Starved - Novella 18+ ✔

Chapter Three

Ella:

   It's been days since I last seen Nicholas. I don't know if he left, or if he stayed. I don't know how hes doing, if he's hungry, if he has a comfortable place to sleep. I've been locked away in my room since returning from the condo. Trapped away in my own loneliness.
   His words play over and over in mind, tormenting me. "I can't be your friend Ella." I wanted to ask, why? Why couldn't I just have one friend, one person to talk to, to unload my burdens onto. Why didn't I deserve companionship? What did I do wrong in my past life, to deserve such isolation in my current.
   The way he held me, mending the pain my father caused circles through my mind. I can't remember the last time I received a hug, let alone comfort from another human being. I felt taken care of, I felt loved. His warm skin wrapped around me like a blanket, taking away the agony, which in turn makes this dejection feel so much more unbearable.
   I lay against my headboard, my eyes shut, as I conjure up stories of what it would be like to know him. I imagine him telling me about his childhood, his hobbies, his likes and dislikes. We'd sit up all night and watch movies while eating as much food as possible.
   The thought of him being hungry eats away at me. The memory of him scuffing down the breakfast I made him tears at my heart. It was almost as if he couldn't eat fast enough, like he was scared it would disappear at any moment. I couldn't pry my eyes off him, even tho it saddened me. No one should ever be hungry and I had a feeling he was hungry more often than not.
   The sun begins to descend, casting a gloomy shadow over my room, leaving me in darkness until a soft knock sounds from my door. My mother doesn't wait for a response before waltzing in, turning on the light to see me wallowing in the same spot she left me this morning.
   "Your father's allowing you to come downstairs for dinner tonight. Take a shower and be down at eight o'clock sharp." She mutters before exiting as quickly as she arrived. Not wanting to aggravate my parents, I hop out of my bed and into the shower. I'm dressed and presentable with ten minutes to spare. I wait another few minutes before making my way down the stairs and entering the dining room, taking a seat at my usual chair, to the left of my father.
   He doesn't spare me a glance as he sips at his rum from his crystal tumbler. Per usual, the tablet is set with our finest China because eating off anything less is disgraceful, according to my parents. I wait, politely, as my mother places a bowl of kale salad decorated with almonds and cranberries drizzled in oil in front of us before eating. Half way through the starter, my father speaks.
   "Ella." He deadpans.
   "Yes, Daddy?"
   "Why the fuck are your elbows on the table? Have I taught you nothing? Do you think table etiquette is a joke?"
   "I'm sorry Dad."
   Quickly, I remove my elbows off the table, folding my hands in my lap and down casting my eyes. My father believes eye contact is a sign of defiance, unless ordered by him. He slams his fork against the table causing me to jump in my skin, preparing for his outburst. I peek at him from under my lashes, watching as the vein in his neck throbs angrily and his fist clench on top of the table.
   "You're sorry?" Picking up his salad bowl he throws it across the room. It smashes into the wall, oil dripping along the paint as it scatters into a million pieces along the cherry hardwood floors. "That's all you ever fucking say! Stop being sorry Ella and retain some information in your thick fucking skull."
   "Victor." My mother attempt to soothe. She reaches for his hand but my father quickly looms over us, his breathing ragged as he stares us down. I hold my breath, anticipating his attack.
   "Valerie. Clean up this mess. I'll take my dinner in the study. I can't stand to even look at Ella right now."
   My mother is quick to obliged, cleaning up the broken glass before rushing my father a new plate to his office. I sit, frozen at the dining room table, finally able to catch my breath once alone. My stomach churns, on the verge of erupting as my nerves flow through me. Faintly I hear muffled yells coming from down the hall. Knowing my mother is enduring his anger causes a deep ache to settle in my chest. This wasn't her fault, it's mine. She shouldn't have to deal with the consequences for my mistakes.
   Before I can go apologize, my mother shuffles in the room. Her face red and tear stained. She looks at me, a mixture of heartache and hatred painted her features. I go to her, ready for her to lean on me, but instead she brushes me off.
   "You've done enough Ella." She states, moving to the table to pile plates along her arm. I move towards her again, collecting a few dishes scattered along the end of the table. "I SAID YOU'VE DONE ENOUGH." She screeches, snatching the bowl from my hand. "Just go to your room." She sighs.
   "I'm sorry mom. I love you." I choke. All I've ever wanted was someone to love me. To tell me, its okay to make mistakes. To guide me through this life with compassion and understanding. She doesn't return my declaration, instead she storms out of the room, leaving a cold chill in her wake. Following my mother's orders, I head back to my room, shutting the door softly behind me before dropping to the floor as I let my sobs wreck me.