FLASHBACKS
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
My thoughts say to me.
Why would you ask for a cookie?
The screaming in the hall gets louder as their feet march closer.
My fingers and toes are frozen, but I am too afraid to crawl out from under the bed to get my blanket.
My bedroom door slams open and suddenly the screaming is in my room.
"Maybe if you didn't treat me like an old hag, I wouldn't act like it!" Mommy screams.
"I asked a very simple question and you flew off the handle like you always do!" Daddy yelled back
"It is a ridiculous question! Why don't you go ask your little secretary?" Mommy's shoes are in front of my face and she stomps a little. I stomped once. I got the vacuum hose for that.
"Leave Tiffany out of this!" Daddy's shoes are on the other side of the bed now.
Suddenly there are hands on my feet, grabbing too hard, pulling too fast. I try to grip the floor, the bed, anything.
Scared. I'm scared. My stuffed fox falls from my grasp, his one eye watches me get dragged out from under the bed.
.....................
<a few years later>
You would think I'd have it figured out by now...
I'm almost eight years old, I should know not to talk to Dad after 12.
12 beers...not midnight...I'm not Cinderella!
Although, it is pretty close to midnight now, isn't it? Dad got home late again, so he didn't finish the box of beers until later. At least he will sleep in tomorrow. The morning will be quiet, with only mom yelling.
My stuffed fox is snuggled with me on the bed. I may be eight now, but we protect each other.
A slamming door ends the screaming for the night. I can hear mom rummaging in the kitchen. Maybe she would give me something to eat...? I start toward the door, but then I realize that, as late as it is, she would be mad that I am awake. Maybe I'll tell her that I didn't get dinner? No, then she'll think I'm calling her a bad mom and I'll get screamed at more.
My belly growls in protest as I crawl onto my bed and wrap my fox and I in our old quilt.
...
<another few years later>also<a few weeks ago>
The murmuring around me shifts, ever so slightly. It is enough to drag my attention away from the short story I am reading about a dead girl who doesn't know she's dead.
My eyes scan the room, everyone is looking at the front doors. Some guy is standing there, talking to Principle Geralds. The guy nods at Geralds and then starts walking through the cafeteria, the students part like the red sea, all eyes following him.
He sits at the only non-crowded table.
Mine.
YOU ARE READING
Beauty in a Beast
FantasyAs far as I can tell, this is a story about a girl whose life gets turned upside-down when she meets Jeremy and tells him she'd do anything to escape her wealthy, but cruel, parents. I don't think she was prepared for what he had in mind. It is also...
