Decadent Rose (ON HOLD)

Beauty In Silence I 1

I've been reading a lot of Peter Pan stories lately, so I kind of wanted to write one that is completely different to all the others. Here it is.

Chapter One

"One good thing about music, when it hits you, you feel no pain"- Bob Marley

She cranked the music louder till the sounds of the heavy metal music that blasted through her earphones siphoned her off from the World and she took a breath to calm her racing heartbeat. He wouldn't like it if she appeared nervous. With a shaky exhale, she pushed open the front door to her house with a faux confidence and sauntered inside via the cover of her beloved charcoal hoodie. The smell of smoke would have blinded her senses had she not grown use to the vulgar companion and she might have gasped at the sight of a tipsy stranger lounging on her couch had she not been taught that silence was always best. She was smart enough to know better now; he'd made sure of it. The intoxicated man glanced up and gave her an appraising look which had her knees turn to jelly as she fought the need to run. I'll be fine, she chanted in her head, he won't let anyone hurt me. But she knew he would. It used to be a chant that made her feel safe and gave her hope that she would make it alive for another day. Now it was just sour words strung into a plaintive sentence that made her clench her fists in wasted anger. She pulled out her earphones to hear a man's voice.

"What's a young girl like you hangin' out in a rank place like this?" The man's words were slurred and did nothing for her confidence. He was right though; the place was rank. There was so much smoke it acted like a cloth guaze, shrouding detail from view as she glanced upon the stained couch of which smelled like year-old milk entwined with pure vodka. The walls appeared like half-worked patch work with strips of the once beautiful wallpaper hanging lifeless and so many beer bottles scattered around the house, she'd once thought it was a recycling job her father had. She'd been so naive in her life; it seemed like the day she turned thirteen was the day everything changed in her eyes. She instinctively glanced down at the jagged scar across her wrist. "Oi!" the man hissed "I asked you a question missy"

His foul breath hit her like a brick wall, but she just compelled a weak smile onto her face "Sorry sir, I live here. This is my...father's establishment"

The man grinned "You live here?"

"Yes, sir" She gulped "But I don't want to disturb you so I should just...go" Without another word, she seemingly calmly walked away from the man and through a curtained doorway to the kitchen where she knew her father would be, counting his stacks of money like he always was at that time. He looked up at her entrance and smiled slyly, making her want to throw up in the nearest bin.

"I see you've met old Bill" He smiled and flashed her his costly straight teeth. She fought back a grimace as he tapped his pile of money against the kitchen's mahogany island with a satisfactory smirk. "Got a good pile today, Emily. The customers seemed to tip a lot higher than usual" She watched, still, as he tucked away the thick wad of cash into the top pocket of his midnight blue suit and meandered closer to her. "How was your day?" He asked in a mere whisper. She knew the real question behind his words as he gently pulled back her hood and forced her chin up so her eyes met his. They seemed soulless to her now.

"No one noticed" Emily muttered bitterly "No one cares" Her father - Trevor - used his thin long fingers to gently touch the edges of the black eye that was now starting to fade and she winced in pain.

"Good" He whispered as he tightened his hold on her chin and she grimaced once more "We wouldn't want anyone breaking up our close family now, would we?" Emily shook her head fervently and he let out a hollow laugh as he pushed her away using his grip on her chin. "I've got business to do. Go be a good little girl and play in your room for a while"