DELICATE ★ JENLISA

Chapter 1

⚠️THIS IS A WORK OF ADAPTION, CREDITS GOES TO THE ORIGINAL AUTHOR.

I could smell the alcohol on his breath as he stepped closer to me, his hands pushing forward any obstructions in his way so he could reach me. His nostrils flared with rage and I shrunk back into the corner of the hotel room, knowing I was stuck. He could taste my fear and it empowered him, especially while he was this drunk. It's not like I wasn't used to it by now, but with each bruise, the experience never got any easier.

His jet black hair shimmered with the light peeking through the curtains. The sun was setting, and when night finally came, it would make it harder for anyone to see him beating me through the hotel window. The television in the room blared at full volume in the background, making it almost impossible for anyone in the next room over to hear the whimpers of pain that never failed to escape my mouth. He knew this, and it made him almost smile in triumph.

There was a light breeze then, and the air flowed in through the crack in the sliding glass door, causing a shiver to run down my spine. Charles slowly stepped toward me, and with each passing second, I realized that I'd never seen him this angry. I knew he'd gotten particularly wasted that night, and I knew that his temper flared up tremendously after consuming a little alcohol. But he hadn't consumed a little alcohol that night, he'd gotten full out wasted.

And for that reason, I'd never been more scared in my life. Not when I'd been sent to my first foster home where everything seemed like an absolute nightmare, and certainly not by Charles.

When he finally took the last step and his rough hands closed around my wrists, I felt absolutely repulsed by his smell. He reeked of Jack Daniels, smoke, and something else I couldn't quite pin point.

"Where is your mother, Jennie?" His lips twitched into a snarl and I tried to force myself to stand up straight, looking right back at him. I'd learned from experience that staying silent when he asked me a question would never work out well, but I'd always be screwed because whenever my mouth opened, sarcasm flowed out in waves.

"Dead."

He slammed his foot down on the carpeting of the hotel floor, and I'd be surprised if the people underneath didn't feel the roof crumbling above them. His hands slammed my wrists on either side of my head, and between his tight grasp on my wrists and the force he'd used slamming them against the wall, I knew there'd be multiple bruises there in the morning. "I'm going to ask you one more fucking time, Jennie and you and I both know it would be in your best interest to give me a real answer. Where is your god damn mother?"

I assumed he was referring to my so-called adoptive mother, who'd been my step-mother before my dad passed away. I always liked the woman, she seemed kind and she and my dad definitely had chemistry, so I'd accepted her into my life at the time. I didn't know, however, that she was weak and a fucking coward, and by adopting me, she was only introducing me to more misery. "I don't know, Charles."

He growled at me, forcing his body closer to mine as his knee came up in between my legs, elevating me higher on the wall. "Bullshit. Why do you protect her? She certainly doesn't return the favor for you."

"I'm not fucking protecting her. I honestly don't know where she is and I don't give a shit." I wasn't lying, the truth was she never told me where she was going, and when she did, it was almost always a lie. She lied because she was scared of Charles, and she feared being honest with me or helping me at all because she knew what he was capable of. She'd seen him do it to me.

The one thing I'd learned from the multiple times Charles had stumbled home drunk was to never tell him to stop. I could spit back at him all I liked, because he didn't mind a little verbal retaliation, in fact, I think he enjoyed it. I'd tried every approach to dealing with his beatings. I had tried staying quiet with my head tilted down so he couldn't seen my tears; that was my approach the first time it happened. I didn't know how to deal with it and I was scared out of my mind, not yet having built a shell to guard my true emotions from him. The second time wasn't so bad because I'd focused all my attention on him, which is what he wanted, but I'd gotten really angry and tried to push him off, which was quite possibly the worst thing I could have done in that situation. He didn't like anyone telling him no, let alone to stop, and I wouldn't ever say that four letter word again.