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“That doesn’t answer my question, does it, Calliope? Where the fuck have you been?” She sneers at me.
“Oh, Calliope, we didn’t hear you come in,” Christopher chuckles, coming up behind Amy.
I look at him and smile weakly. So now he is going to start hating me, too?
“She was probably out on her daily street corner being an ungrateful whore!” Michael shouts from the living room.
My eyes widen at his words. Why does everyone always think I am ungrateful and out being a whore? I’ve never even had sex!
Then, my thoughts shift. I better tell her I got a job, considering I now work four days a week.
I hang my head, looking at the floor. “I went out to look for a job,” I whisper.
She scoffs in disgust.
“You? A job? Doing what exactly?” Amy chuckles.
“Being a hooker on the street corner, I already told you.” Michael chimes in again from the living room. I recoil from the thought. I would never sell my body.
“Yes, hookers have lots of fun! Sex feels GREAT — you know, I have it all the time. So yeah, now I get paid for it.” I roll my eyes sarcastically.
They gape at me in shock. I should probably tell them what I’m really doing, since I’ll be out of the house four days a week for this job. I lift my chin high. “I got a job at the local coffee shop.”
“Why on earth would they hire you? You can’t even make coffee,” she retorts.
“She said I did great and offered me the position multiple days a week to work there.” I feel the telltale sting of tears behind my eyes, but hold them in.
“Why would you even need a job? You have mooched off this family for your entire life. What is so different now?” She snickers.
My eyes widen. I feel the rage boiling to the surface. “I need the money so I can escape this shithole you call a fucking house!” I yell at her. I fist my hands at my side.
She looks at me in shock. I don’t ever talk to her this way. She storms towards me, closing the distance between us, and I back myself against the door. Shit, you’ve done it now, Calliope! She stops directly in front of me, looking at me as if I am worse than the dog shit on the bottom of her shoe. She squints her eyes, brings up her hand, and smacks me across the face. Smack!
I gasp and raise my hand to cradle my cheek.
“You will talk to me with respect, Calliope! After everything we have done for you! You ungrateful girl!” she shrieks at me.
I frown at her, blinking the moisture out of my eyes.
“I hate you,” I whisper. I look around the foyer at the rest of them, now watching the show. “I hate all of you!” I scream and storm off upstairs to my room.
I slam the door and bolt it shut. Thank god I have a bolt on my door. At least I can get some sense of privacy.
I throw my bag down and go into the en-suite. I turn on the light and rush to the sink. A tear-stained face stares back at me as I look at myself in the mirror. A perfectly sized handprint has formed on my cheek, and I wince.
How dare she fucking mark me! I turn on the cold water, grab a flannel, and fill it with water. I sigh and bring it to my face, and wince from the pain. This is going to be a bruise in the morning. I huff and head back into my bedroom.
I undress, put on my pyjamas and get into bed. If I think about it hard enough, my dreams will become my escape from reality, and I can see the man from the shadows again.
My eyelids start to get heavy, and I welcome the darkness as I drift off to sleep.
Alyx
Ihave been walking for hours, attempting to escape the woods that have become my own hell. I have escaped one prison only to be trapped in another that I don’t know how to survive. There are weird sounds all around me. They sound almost like cars, but not like before. They are moving faster, if that is even possible. Finally, there is a break in the trees, and I see another large field and a road. It’s been a long time, but since when are roads like this? I don’t remember them ever looking like this.
I hear something in the distance. Maybe that means people. Perhaps they can help me. I rush to the new roadway and trip over a rock, stumbling forwards onto my knees. “Fuck!” I cry out when I land on my wrist. There is a machine on wheels swiftly approaching. The machine makes a loud noise at me, and the person inside it flails its arms.
What the hell is this thing? Almost like a truck, but I don’t remember them looking like this. Oh shit, I forgot—
