Vanilla (GoodNovel Exclusive)

01 | VANILLA

I hate this book so don't come at me for it — the only reason it's still published is that people get upset when I unpublish it and I love you guys more than I love my pride :,)

With a bottle in one hand and a glass in the other, Genevieve sighed.

The Smith's household was not normally loud, they preferred to settle into a thick silence and carry on about their day, but their eldest son had just made his way home for a birthday that was not his, and so it seemed fit to pop the cork on their aged wine and completely forget the birthday girl... not that it was not an affair she was not used to, it happened nearly every year.

Their pride for their university professor son had swelled far past regard for their youngest daughter, Genevieve, so she sat herself in the corner of the room, large brown eyes watching her drunken family, as she sung to herself softly- the only happy birthday wishes she would be given that night. Beside a harsh slap across her cheek, that is, when her father finished the bottle and with a slurred voice hunted for a smaller prey to blame the lack of alcohol on, and soon after that, her cheek would retreat to a colour that much matched the ribbon woven through her hair, the thick, blonde strands falling over her pale shoulders in perfect curls.

She would admit to herself, reluctantly and through tears, that she had dressed herself up for her party in hopes that for once, her parent's attention would be directed towards her. Maybe the eyes that stared at her in irrecoverable loathing would for once stare down at her warmly, perhaps with a hint of affection that she had missed dearly since the two years of her miserable life she had felt her mother's gaze staring through her back, searing with anger and acute hatred.

Genevieve won't play coy and ponder why her mother grew to hate her so much because she indeed knew the exact reason why... she was no stranger to it either. It was not as if she expected her mother to be kind and loving when she walked in on her daughter being spanked, moans cascading from her plump, pouty lips, by the man she was having an affair with. Her husband remained as oblivious and alcoholic as ever as each year flicked by on the calendar, but Genevieve could not help the fact that her abominable heart fluttered in her chest at the idea of a man, much older than her, spanking her rear as she told him to "Go harder, daddy," For she could not help the attraction she harboured.

So she remained in the corner of the room, her pink acrylic nails drumming on her small glass that held an even smaller pool of bourbon in the bottom as she seldom brought it up to her lips, and took a sip from the burning liquid as she watched her family carry on with their partying ways, growing more and more oblivious as the next bottle was popped and drained into their glasses. Her father wasn't as oblivious as one would perceive, and nowhere near as much of a golden parent either. The glass in his hand forgot her infidelity for him, and so he did not have a thing left on his mind as their wallpaper glistened over rotting walls.

Her eyes stared down at her glass, a small pout forming on her already pouty lips before she drained the contents, the burning liquid sliding down her throat. A lipgloss stain clung to the mouth of the cup as she placed it on the floor and climbed to her feet, dusting off the back of her neat, pleated skirt, her even whiter sneakers silently making their way across the room and towards her front door.

Her hand grasped the polished handle before she pushed the door open, the cool night air creeping along her exposed shoulder where her cropped and fashionably tattered shirt that failed to cover her stomach, also failed to cover her shoulder, which was no good as her white... fashionable windbreaker had slipped away from both of her shoulders.

She was not bothered by the night air. Instead, she embraced the icy aroma and took her front-porch steps one by one, making her way towards their white-picket-fence as she reached out and unclipped the lock that did not do much to secure the perfect little suburban house that she resided in. She began to make her way down the pathway that flanked the street road, midnight black and stretching out over the distance under the blanket of the even darker night sky, scattered with celestial lights and pools of stars.