Celeste's childhood wasn't something she loved talking about. It was filled with nothing but painful memories. Whether they were the ones from when her father, along with her brothers, left, or the ones from her mother's death and her stepfather's a...
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Packing my belongings had taken longer than I had expected. Not because I had lots of stuff to pack and not because I had been struggling to pack through the pain flashing throughout my body. But because I had found some of the stuff I owned back when I lived with my family.
Family.
Ten years had passed ever since I had seen them or even heard about any of them. I couldn't remember much about the day they — or I shall say we — left. But I could still remember waking up in a completely new house with mum by my side.
Tears were streaming down her face and when I asked her about the reason, all she said was "your father had kicked us out."
I couldn't understand her words back then. I didn't understand the reason my father had kicked me out of the house with my mother. I knew that they were frequently fighting during that period. But what was my mistake?
I stared longingly at the locket I had been grasping tightly for the past few minutes — the same one my father had gifted me on my fourth birthday — and realised that my father might have not wanted me in the first place. Or that he might have feared the fact that I could turn into another version of my mother; a drug addict who only cared about herself.
I wouldn't blame him if that was the reason he kicked us out. I had lived with my drug addict mother for a long period, and I knew how bad it could be.
"Celeste!"
My stepfather's sound startled me as my grip loosened around the locket I was holding, causing it to fall onto the wooden floor beneath me with a loud thud.
I struggled to get onto my feet and fought against my urge to cry at the pain that stung my abdomen. I used the wall as a support as I headed towards the hallway where my stepfather was.
Lorenzo flashed me a concerned look once I arrived while his father's lips lifted into a crooked smirk. "Are you finished with packing?"
I nodded. However, my lack of verbal response seemed to fuel Jack's anger. His eyes darkened as he took a few steps closer to me. I gulped nervously, my nails digging deep into my sweaty palms. I blinked a few times, attempting to stop any tears from forming in my eyes.
Jack lifted his hand in the air, and I instantly flinched away, my eyes shutting tight, and my body expecting to register a stinging pain on my cheek.
It never happened.
I allowed my eyes to open slowly and my gaze to land upon the scene taking place right before my eyes. Jack's hand didn't stop voluntary; Lorenzo had stopped it.
"We're gonna be late," spoke Lorenzo, his darkened gaze locking with his father's. I had expected Jack to blow up or to perhaps hurt Lorenzo for stopping him from beating me. But he never did.
"Just fucking get your things," muttered Jack, turning away and leaving the dimmed living room.
