The Nanny ✔

# 2

Kindly show your supports by voting and following. Thanks! ;-) ;-)

*

Sophie's POV

"Get me the fuckin' butter, brat!" My darling stepdad snaps at me from the other end of the table.

I look around our three bedroom flat and take a deep breath, mentally thanking my stars that this is probably all I'll get from him.

He has been calling me lighter, less harsher names nowadays, brat being one of them and I really can't be more grateful.

Whenever he is angry or drunk, those names easily switch to slut, bitch and so on.

"Here." I pass it to him carefully, taking note of my every action. He could snap at anytime and I don't want to be on the receiving end.

"Drop it. Or don't you have hands?" He sneers with beady eyes obviously glaring into my spirit and soul.

"I-i'm sorry." I stutter slowly.

He stares at me long enough to have my skin peeling off in heat.

I loose my appetite but squeeze a small amount of wheat bread in my mouth all the same.

"You should dye your hair back to black." He states in a reprimanding tone.

I look up at him. "Um?"

"Yes."

"Why?" It's nothing but curiosity that gnaws at me and makes me ask this question.

"Obviously, the blue doesn't suit you."

I raise a curious brow. "Why?"

"Black suits your dark personality and bitchy lifestyle. It would be perfect for you, being the naturally stuck up girl you are." He replies with his eyes on my bust.

My stomach churns with nervousness and I swallow the bread with a little struggle. I down it with tea quickly.

It should have never been like this.

If only the man sitting opposite me had a round head and not oblong one, with a sinister expression and pointed nose. If only he was still the man who smiled while reading newspaper every morning and not this one who sneers while chugging down a new bottle of beer.

I get up slowly and leave the dining table with wary eyes so I won't get pulled back by my hair.

"Where are you going?" He snaps. I stiffen in my stance but miraculously succeed in turning around to face him.

"School." I reply and make my way to the passage.

"I'm sure my angel woke up well?" My mom calls from the pantry. Stopping at the entrance of the passage, I face her.

"Hmn."

"Had a good dream?"

"Hmm." I mumble again. I had a good dream about your husband spilling his seed inside me, again!

My tongue is only tied because of the asshole sitting on the far end of the house who could turn me into a punching bag in any second.

My mom knows. Well of course she does but she believes he is disciplining me as he always says. As if my dad didn't bring me up despite not disciplining me.

Her present husband says I shouldn't be a child of rebellion.

As usual, mom's face breaks into a shitting grin at my little response. Ever the oblivious one, my mother is.

"Okay. Your father gave you money?"

"No, your fuckin' husband didn't give me money." I grit out under my breath. Her smile falls and her lips set into a grim line.

"How many times will we have this discussion?"

I look over my shoulder at my moms sick husband who is trying to listen to our conversation. "Which, mom dearest?"

She heaves a dramatic sigh and straightens her short pink stone designed gown, pulling a strand of her slick blond attachment behind her left ear.

All for a sick psycho to notice her.

"Never mind. We'll talk about it when I get back."

"Okay. Say hi to Jackson for me, will you?" I demand sweetly.

The sick kind of sweetly.

Her face turns gloomy but I don't care.

Jackson has been asking her out since dad but she left the good guy who was there all through dad's sickness because he was sightly potbellied and went ahead to marry the slim guy working as a gym instructor at the school dad used to teach.

The same one that has attempted to rape her daughter thrice. The same one she backed up when he said her daughter seduced him.

"Take then." She hands me a few wads of Naira with her pompous look as if she is giving me the world's most hidden treasure.

Money solves all the problems in the world and it would surely solve mine. I mentally cheer myself at my sarcasm.

"Bye." I say in a clipped tone, walking to the large couch in our sitting room and carrying my backpack.

I board a motorcycle and we ride to school in a comfortable silence. Thank goodness he isn't trying to start a conversation or hit on me.

"How you doing bitch?" A squeaky voice screams immediately the motorcycle is parked properly. I do an eye roll at my best friend.

"Fine." I pay the motorcyclist his fare and he rides off.

Wonder, my best friend approaches me and slings an arm around my shoulder, her expensive perfume instantly wafting through my nostrils.

She is wearing a black crop top and blue skinny jeans, with black boots to match. Her lipstick and eye-shadow are also black, giving her a badass look.

Her family is barely in the middle class sector but she knows her way around every rich kid in this university so when she tags along, she gets expensive and worn out things from them.

"Have you done the math assignment Mr Hilarious gave us?" I question.

"Who the heck is Hilarious?" She scoffs.

"Duh. Statistics 101 lecturer." I narrow my eyes at her as we walk through the numerous buildings on our way to the department. We are both accounting majors.

"Oh that one. Nope. You didn't ask how I was doing." She pouts.

"I'm sorry princess. How are you doing?" I mimic her voice.

"I am good. The party last Friday was lit. It's a pity you are too stuck up to attend." She pouts. Feeling insulted by her accusation, I stop in my track.

"I'm not stuck up. I just prefer staying at home instead of hanging around with so many random people who don't even give two cents about me."

Shrugging her arm off my shoulder with a hiss, I walk off, leaving her standing on the spot.

.......
You don't like parties. But that doesn't mean you're stuck up. It's okay to stay at home and read novels too. It's also okay to go to parties and drink safely. Just do you.