Dancing in the Rain

Chapter VIII

She had never felt such sadness. A thick aura of deep sorrow surrounded her, following her everywhere she went. Her mind drifted further and further into a deep abyss that lay nothing but gloominess and melancholy. Her whole world seemed to be crashing down on her, laying upon her shoulder so heavily, it was almost like she was carrying a boulder.

Stacey had felt this before. She had felt it so many times. When her mother left to Whitwick after the divorce. After leaving her father, who hardly said a proper goodbye to her. Now with Jesse, who turned out to be a drug addict. She felt betrayed. That familiar and agonizing feeling of betrayal burned violently through her insides.

And if that wasn't enough, to add onto her misery, she had witnessed Frank striking Anne across the face after Anne confronted him about his scandal with another woman that night.

"Just tell me the truth!" she shrieked.

"Damn it, woman, get off my back!" Frank yelled, making the walls around them tremble.

Stacey was outside the kitchen and in front of the door, peeking through the crack, watching and listening to everything that was happening.

"Frank McClain, I am your wife!" Anne screamed. "You ought to show me some respect! I left that horrible man that was once raising Stacey, and I was happy when I met you here! Don't make me regret my decisions!"

SMACK!

It happened so fast, but it seemed like it was in slow motion at the same time. Frank raised his hand and slapped Anne, whom Stacey thought to be was the love of his life, right across the face. The hit was so hard, her head snapped to the side. The impact of it nearly made her stumble and lose her balance. Her cheek had begun to glow a soft, light red where Frank has slapped her.

Stacey covered her mouth with her hand to muffle her gasp. Her heart began to race rapidly, and she felt lightheaded. Frank - the man whom Anne fell in love with, and the man whom Stacey looked up to more so than her own father - had physically hurt his wife.

Anne slowly looked at him, her eyes brimming in pain and tears. His face held no emotions, held no sign that he regretted what he did.

"We'll talk about this tomorrow," he said, his voice monotonous.

Anne didn't respond. Stacey, realizing they were leaving the kitchen, jumped back from the door and quickly yet quietly dashed up the stairs to her bedroom. After slowly and heedfully closing the door behind her, her legs began to tremble beneath her. She collapsed on the bed and stared at the periwinkle ceiling above her with wide eyes.

Did that... really just happen?

***

The next day at the café, Anne was almost completely silent, almost like the way Jesse was before. She only nodded or shook her head in answer to questions from Donna, Elly, and Kate. The waitresses were concerned for her and questioned Stacey, but Stacey waved it off, saying that Anne was only in a bad mood.

However, while Kate, Donna, and Elly were busying themselves with wiping the counter clean and brewing coffee, Stacey leaned forward to Anne and whispered, "Are you really ok?"

Anne peered up and weakly smiled. "I'm fine, hon. I don't think I'm the first priority here, though."

"What d'you mean?"

"Did you talk with that boy?"

Stacey felt her heart tighten in her chest at the mention of Jesse. Swallowing down the thick lump in her throat, she said, "Yeah... You were right. He isn't good news."