Starved - Novella 18+ ✔

Chapter Two

Ella:

   The whip of my father's belt sounded through the room before I felt the blistering heat against my skin. "You're a disgrace!" He roared. I cried out as he lashed at me again, this time slicing across my lower back. "A failure!" He seethed.
   "I'm sorry!" I sobbed, curling into myself. My apology didn't sooth his rage, if anything, it exacerbated it. I felt my skin welting, bruising. I laid against the wooden floor, helpless. "I'll do better next time."
   "YOU SHOULD HAVE DONE BETTER THE FIRST TIME!" careful not to blemish my skin where people can see, he smacked me one final time, before bending down into my face. His breath was steaming, his nostrils flaring as he looked down at me. "This is your last warning Ella. Do not make me say this again. If you grade anything less than excellence next school year, I will make you regret it until your last breath. And stop dressing like a fucking whore."
   With his final threat, he stormed out of the room, not bothering shutting the door on his way out. I laid there, for what felt like hours, before mustering the courage to stand. My tears were silent as my body protested every movement towards the adjoining bathroom. I perched against the counter, inspecting my injuries in the mirror. My left shoulder was bruised from being slammed against the floor, my back split open and dripping blood. I hissed, reaching under the cabinet, trying to find the first aid kit.
   "Here." My mom stood in the doorway, holding a box of cream, roll of medical tape and a package of gauze out towards me. I slowly limped towards her, transferring the items from her hands to the counter before opening each package. "I'll bring your dinner to your room."
Part of me wanted to beg her to help me, to care for me, to love me. But, I've tried that before and lost, always. Valerie Parker is now a shell of the woman she once was. She wasn't always this cruel and uncaring. The woman standing in front of me now is a result of years of living under my father's rule. She hated when I disappointed my father because I wasn't the only one who had to bear burden of Victor Parker's anger.
   He never hit my mom, like he did me, but he would instead threaten her livelihood. The house's, the money, the cars - he would dangle it in front of my moms face, daring her to walk away. She never has. She never would. Status and wealth means everything to my mother, without it, she's nothing.
   I envy the days when I was younger. She would sit with me for hours, playing dolls and dress up. We would have picnics in the backyard and tell stories about princesses who ruled the world. Our days would be fun filled and joyous, until the day my mom caught my father with his mistress. He accused her of giving me all her attention, leaving him no other choice than to find a women half his age to entertain him. After that, there was no more late night talks, no more tucking me into bed, no shopping sprees to find beautiful dresses to wear to the park. There was just me, alone.
   Without another word, she shuts the bathroom down behind her, leaving me to clean and bandaged my wounds. To distract myself from the pain, I let my mind drift to Nicholas. I wonder if he had trouble finding the building, if he was able to eat. I wonder if he's sleeping soundly or curled up on the couch enjoying some T.V. I hope whatever he's doing, that he's comfortable and happy.
   Something unbeknownst to me, made me want to trust him. And I do. Deep down, I know he's a good person who might have been dealt a bad hand or two in his life to lead him to where he is now, but I don't think he's a evil. I've seen evil, I live with evil, and Nicholas is not the villain.
His saddened beautiful eyes haunt me. Begging me to take the pain away. I recognize it, because I see the same agony in my reflection every day.
   A loud bang, followed by the rattle of plates drags my attention towards my bedroom. I walk towards the door, watching as my mom lays out the dishes along the nightstand. She glances at me briefly over her shoulder before speaking.
   "Your father doesn't want to see you for the rest of the night. He's leaving for a business trip in the morning so you can come out of your room after that but you're not to leave this house until your father says so. Understand?"
   She doesn't spare me another glance, or wait for my reply before storming out of the room. Starving, I rush to sit crisscross on my bed, pulling off the silver top to reveal a butter soaked lobster tail and a slab of porterhouse steak. I skip over the side dishes of corn on the cob, side salad, and asparagus and dig into the meat, moaning in delight as it melts against my tongue.
Half way through my meal, I pause, suddenly overcome with guilt that Nicholas might not have eaten yet. My appetite vanishes as quickly as it appeared and I wish there was a way for me to talk to him, to check on him and make sure he's okay but, I don't have a phone. I replace all of the lids to the plates before returning them to my nightstand, knowing my mother will be in during the night to collect them.