Revenge Is Best Served..

Memories or Nightmares?

Sleek, soft, pristine, cozy, clean, mesmerizing. These are only some of the words that I could come up with at the moment to describe what I was looking at. What I was sitting in. I felt so out of place.

As I looked around the limousine's interior I sunk further into myself. I was still in my dirty white dress and my face and hair was still a mess. Compared to the interior, the immaculate looking lawyer and the driver, I looked like a dirty homeless person they just took off the streets as a project and maybe that's just what I was.

Despite all I went through growing up, I was never one to have low self-esteem but at this very moment, I had none at all. To make matters worst my belly grumbled as the breakfast scents from the street vendors made its way through the sunroof and windows of the car. Thankfully, no one heard. 

Mr. Shaw removed the phone from his ear and looked at me. When he did, you had no choice but to make eye contact. I learned that if you didn't, he wouldn't address or acknowledge you. "We will reach our destination in about two hours so please try and get some sleep." He went back to his call before I could think to answer.

Sleep. That wouldn't be very difficult as my eyelids were already heavy. I had tried fighting it because I wanted to see where I was going; wanted to know the way back if I needed to escape. However, sleep had other plans and I gave in to it and welcomed the calm blackness. 

★★★

"What do you expect her to do if you keep babying her?!" He shouted.

"And what do YOU expect will happen to her if you keep pushing her the way you do?! She shouted back.

It had been that way for almost half a year now. Them always fighting about something, no matter how small and me, always ended up being the center of their arguments.

"She's not YOUR daughter Rene, so let me do my job as her father!" He roared.

"Of course, we're back to that. 'She's not your daughter', she mocked. "She's not but I sure as hell treat her better than her own father does!"

It was the usual 'I can shout louder than you can' race but tonight would be different. As soon as my mother's sentence ended I heard a slap. Leaning forward on the step at the bottom of the staircase, I looked into the living room and saw my mother holding her hand to her left cheek.