Beautifully Shattered

Chapter One

Chapter One

Everything looks so fake here. The buildings, the people, even the trees looked ridiculous. Maybe it was like that everywhere. I hoped not.

The view that zoomed past my backseat window was nothing like I wanted it to be. I dreamed of blue skies that weren’t polluted by small town life, open roads that weren’t full of expensive cars that the drivers couldn’t really afford and trees that hadn’t been brought in from a tree farm to give the impression of countryside.

Freedom. That’s what I dreamed of. The word itself almost felt foreign.

“Aliss? Are you even listening to me?”

My eyes flew to the front seat as I was brought out of my depressing train of thought, ripping my ear phones out in the process. “Sorry, what?”

      Dad scoffed. He hated my music, especially when it interfered with anything that had to do with him. I’d come to realize that my existence must have been an inconvenience as well. “I said, I signed us up for the fundraiser at the children’s center this weekend.”

      It took a minute for the words to register. A glance at Mom didn’t help much. Her face was turned from me, as she looked out her own window. I wondered if I looked anything like her when I was lost in thought. She was perfect; five-foot-four, pixie cut, brown hair, and a body that any forty year old woman would die for. Not to mention her eyes, a shade darker than my own golden ones. There was no comparison to my mom. How my dad ever won her over was beyond me. His dirty-blonde hair may have once been thick and lush, and the crinkles around his brown eyes when he smiled may have once been seen more; but with time and age, his stomach had grown as well as his ego. The only thing he had going for him now was his height; being nearly six foot tall gave you the advantage in most arenas. I often wondered what it was that had caught her eye so long ago.

Focus, Aliss! Fundraiser at the Children’s Center. Typical event, probably exactly the same as the year before. I could only assume it would be on Friday night.

Wait...  

My heart rate crept its way through the sunroof, but I kept my reply nonchalant. “That’s this Friday right?”

      He nodded as he glanced back in the rearview mirror to judge my reaction. I knew what he was trying to do.

      “But I’m going to Marcie’s this weekend.” I was amazed my voice didn’t break as the panic slowly rose in my throat like bile.

      His laugh hinted at a sinister joke, and his horns began peeking through the thinner part of his hair. “I guess you’ll just have to cancel. Church comes first, you know that.”

You are the Antichrist! My mind screamed.

I could feel the sweat on the back of my neck prickle despite the cool air blasting through the vents. I took a silent breath to steady my voice. Yelling would only make it worse even if it was my first instinct. “I told you about this nearly three weeks ago. This is hardly fair—“

      A snort with the likes of a dying pig cut me off. “No one ever said life was fair, Alisson.”

      “Dad!” Screw it! He wasn’t doing this to me again.

“Ed,” Mom’s voice chimed in quietly. “She did ask us to go, and we did agree.”

      “You agreed. I didn’t have a say in the matter, Elizabeth.”

      The venom he spewed caused me to shrink into the leather seat. Mom seemed unfazed—even with the use of her full name which she hated, as much as I did mine.

      She continued calmly. “Either way, she’s already been told she could go, so I think it’s only right that she should be able to.”

      “Of course you do.” Dad replied with a huff before glaring at the road. I couldn’t help but think he had used up his fair share of annunciation for the day. That, and he looked constipated when he was brooding.

I waited in silence, my leg bouncing against the floorboard as I fiddled with one of the numerous bracelets that covered my left arm. It twisted around my wrist with ease, but my tangled nerves refused to be still. Mom was silent as well. She looked calm, almost detached. I couldn’t blame her though, Sunday mornings were never easy for either of us.

Dad had started the day off fabulously by chewing me out for taking too long to get ready.

When I slid into the backseat, he looked ready to rip my head off.  I knew it would infuriate him, so I intentionally took a little extra mirror time. It was deeply satisfying to know that I could push his buttons so easily.

      Church was miserable as usual. Everyone practically worshiped my dad, and listening to people praise someone who didn’t deserve it was exhausting; especially when no one would ever believe the truth. Of course, Mom and I smiled and said thank you like they actually had something to be jealous of.

Wasn’t jealously a sin? I knew lust was, and more than one woman looked at Dad like they were going to eat him for lunch. They were all a bunch of hypocrites.

I knew better than to try and talk when his eyebrows were scrunched together like they had been most of the day. Then again, I doubted I would have tried to talk to him anyway. Unless I needed something, I tried my hardest not to converse with him at all. Usually it was a waste of time. Maybe if the people of the congregation saw this side of him, they would think twice before bowing down to his every whim. He was very convincing though; I had to give him that much. Even I had caught myself falling for his false pretenses of love and compassion. Of course, it simply took pulling out of the church parking lot to be reminded what he was really like.

      At least the quiet of the backseat was safe. He couldn’t really yell at me for not talking under most circumstances. Flying under the radar was always easiest. It was that, or get caught in the cross fire of harsh words and bitter resentment—half of which had nothing to do with me. My parent’s relationship wasn’t exactly ideal, to say the least.

      Most days—especially Sundays—I felt like a zombie. Kind of like the Frankenstein monster; I had been created by my father in the hopes of one day having a perfect daughter. And just like in the story, it hadn’t gone exactly as planned. In his eyes, I was meant to be seen not heard, but that just wasn’t me. Trying to fight him on this point had gotten really tiring though, and over the years I learned to accept it as my fate. When I was younger, I attempted to stand my ground, but it always proved to be pointless. Even when Dad knew he was wrong, he would never listen to a word I had to say. Since then, I had become quiet and reserved, never doing much more than try to blend in with the scenery.

Mom was entirely different; she had always seen me as the best part of her life and told me so on regular occasions. She always encouraged me to be my own person, despite my circumstances, and she almost always stood up for me. Dad never could understand the relationship we had—I always secretly wondered if that’s why he was so much harder on me—the reasoning behind it didn’t matter though. The fact was, he always came down on me more than any normal parent would.

      My leg was still twitching nervously, and I could feel the urge to bite my nails coming on. Thankfully, I didn’t get the chance.

      “Fine.” Dad finally grumbled. “Just do whatever.”

      I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. I couldn’t seem to keep the edges of my lips from curling upward in triumph.

      “Alisson,” he spat, eyes narrowing as if he could read my mind. “Get that smirk off your face."