Aether

Chapter Seven

Song: This Is My Version - Conor Maynard

My alarm blares at ten am, and I groan as I reach over and turn it off. It's an overcast day, so my mood drops even further as I glance out the window.

I get out of bed and wonder what I should wear. Should I aim for regular teenager who just graduated high school? Or sophisticated woman who's ready for an exclusive, high-class university?

"Mum!" I shout.

She appears in my room a minute later. "What's wrong, honey?"

"What do I wear?" I ask, pouting with a silent plea of help.

"Here."

She picks out a pair of black skinny jeans, a loose white top and a brown jacket.

"It's perfect." I sigh in relief, pulling my nightgown over my head and pulling my jeans on.

"Angel." I turn around as I throw the top over my head. "They aren't tattoos, are they?"

I grimace as I put on the jacket. "No."

"Honey, we need to talk." She says it in a tone that suggests she has an idea of what's happening to me, why I have the marks.

"I-" At that moment, the doorbell rings, and I forget everything except what's at stake. "I have to go get that."

"Of course, sweetie. We'll talk later."

I run down the stairs, pulling my hair into a high ponytail, and when I reach the front door, I throw it open in anticipation.

"Good morning, Angelina."

Standing on my doorstep is the most attractive man around my mother's age that I have ever met. I don't mean that in a sexual way; I just know what attractive is, and he is it. He's wearing a tailored gray suit that highlights his muscular build and screams loaded.

The first thing I notice is his voice. He's the one who spoke to me on the phone.

The second thing is the familiarity. Something about his golden-blonde hair and piercing blue eyes makes me feel safe, warm, and strikes a chord very deep in my chest.

"Have we met?" I ask with a frown, trying to place him, but failing.

"Over the phone," he responds, raising an eyebrow.

"Right. Come in," I say, stepping aside for him to enter.

"This is a beautiful home," he compliments as he looks around him.

"Thank you. The kitchen is this way."

I walk to the kitchen, not looking back to make sure he's following but hoping that he is. My nerves are so jittery that I feel like if I turn around I might trip over.

When we enter the kitchen, Mum is pulling a glass out of the cupboard, and as she turns around, she sees me and smiles. However, suddenly her eyes jump to the left, and I know she's seen the man. Her jaw drops, and she drops the glass.

With reflexes faster than I have ever seen in my life, the man runs forward and catches the glass.

"Chloe, be careful."

As soon as he says her name, everything clicks.

The blonde hair. The blue eyes. The uncanny familiarity.

"Dad?"

A loud slap sounds, and my eyes nearly pop out of my head.

My mother slapped him across the face.