An abused musician is forced to move across state lines, her skills being forced to make more money. It isn't until she meets three other men, that she finally understands love.
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Willow Snow is a senior piano protégé, her life constantly in camer...
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The fury in my mother's face astonished me as I walked in, the way it was so expressive I just knew I was in for a world of hurt. Her jaw was tightened as she stood there, not uttering a single word, staring straight at me. I was terrified, petrified, because most of the time she'd have lashed out by now.
She was just silent.
She pointed to the back room, trusting I knew what to do. I did; I followed her command like a good little dog and hated myself every minute of it. I kneeled in the corner with my head down, my arms tucked behind me pushed together. I heard her footsteps, loud and sloppy, as she walked up the stairs and into her bedroom.
She came back down after thirty minutes, the ache in my knees well into my joints by now. I couldn't see her walk in, but I smelt her just the same. the overpowering smell of booze and menthol cigarettes hit me like a freight train and almost made me want to wretch. It was awful, curling into me and forcing it's way down my throat and to my stomach.
I swallowed down whatever bile wanting to come up, knowing full well she'd be even more pissed at me. She dropped something with a loud clunk, my eyes squeezing shut as I forced any emotions away from my face.
"Do you like being a little whore?" Her words stung worse than her fists ever could. Even if I didn't recognize her as my mother, didn't love her either, there was still a little kid inside of me begging for the love of a parent.
"You have rules for a reason, you know that! These rules protect you, everyone in the outside world is disgusting and vile. They'll kidnap you and rape you!" I knew she was wrong, I had seen it with my own eyes. The boys next door were living proof the world had some good it in it, nothing she would say to me would change that. "Tell me rule number one."
"Never leave the house except for school when you're gone." I spoke quietly as her feet paced the room, my words quivering in my own throat.
"Number two."
"No boys are aloud to touch, talk, or interact with me." I bit my lip as she stepped forward and gripped my hair, dragging me as I clutched hard onto the wooden floor. I tried to get any form of traction, but she simply threw me against the wall like I was a light weight stuffed toy.
"Three." Her voice was strained now with her held back anger, a gleam deep within her eyes alerting me just how fucked in the head she was.
"My money is your money, not my own. I own nothing,"
She glared at me when I didn't finish the rule, her hand wrapping itself around my throat lightly. "And?"
"I am worthless."
Her grip tightened, slamming me across the floor with her hand wrapped around me. I slid over the floors I had waxed myself, my back hitting the wall with a sounding thud. I let out a soft whine, her face ticking as the first sound I had made from her abuse in years.
