The Fighter

Chapter Three

"Well, if it isn't little miss Cinderella?" Turning towards the noise in the dining room as I enter the back door, a single lamp turns on and I hold in a laugh thinking about how she had one lamp moved from the living room in an attempt to scare me. "Where have you been?"

I lift a single finger and swirl it around slowly. Around, and away from you. My stepmother sneers at me and stands up slowly, attempting to present dominance over me; her attempts are futile but I play along for her sake. Taking a step back for everyone she takes forward, I meet the cabinets and watch as her five-foot-two-inch ass comes closer to my five-foot-eleven figure; she's not scary but it is quite funny.

"Answer me you ungrateful bitch!" I slowly raise my hand, adding a shake to it to show fear, and touch the scar on my neck from the accident. "Bullshit! I know you can talk!"

I shrug my shoulders to her, wiping away the fear and placing a sarcastic smile on my face. Can I? No one will believe you. She growls and strikes me swiftly across my face and I turn my head with the blow, but in truth, she slaps like a nine-year-old girl but with more bone. Placing my hand on my cheek, I make sure that I'm not bleeding and then turn to her slowly with a look of fake fear that seems to make her smile; her actions are not unseen by those around her but she always makes them go away without much complication.

"Learn your place, bitch." With that, she leaves me standing in the kitchen with a growling stomach and a larger headache than before. Making myself a quick sandwich, I check up on Jake before heading down to the basement that seconds as my bedroom; no one comes down here other than Jake and Jace along with Derek, Jer hasn't stepped foot into the house since Jackson's funeral and I can't blame him. Finishing off my sandwich, I change into a pair of shorts and a tank top before laying down with my headphones playing Unlabeled by Isabel.

Looking at the clock, I sigh, it's half-past twelve and yet I can't seem to sleep. Turning onto my side, I pull the feather to my line of sight and smile at the thought of my brother who was always there until he wasn't, so quickly and so...brutally taken from me. From us. Sometimes I think that things would have been different if he was still alive, but I'll never know. Closing my eyes, I try to will myself to sleep but nothing comes.

Sometimes I think that my body prevents me from sleeping, just like it prevents me from the nightmares that I know will come as I close my eyes. My body sometimes doesn't let me sleep for days on end and then crashes in the middle of the day for no reason, but only if I'm somewhere comfortable enough that I can let my guard down; most likely in the cafe with Derek on duty to watch over me. Thinking about him, I shoot him a text and he responds immediately.

I thought you were trying to go to sleep.

I was. It's too loud.

Too loud?
Literally or mentally?

Mentally, my music is playing.
Music helps, but tonight is different.

Tell me about it.
Is it safe to talk?

No, the witch thinks I can talk.

Ah, well, will texting work?

I let out a yawn and plug in my phone as I look at the time.

What are you doing up?

Well, I was going to sleep but
then I thought about what today
is. Figured you'd want someone
to talk to.
Was I wrong?

No. Thanks, D.

No prob, little sis.
How's Jake?

Fine. Sleeping.