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I bark out a laugh at this. I step toward him again, the toe of my boot pressing against the toe on his Armani leather shoe. "Don't step up to me again, Father, or you'll regret it." His face grows purple, and I take a step back. "If I want to take her to school, I'll take her to school." I walk toward the door, pressing on the handle and opening it a crack. "If I want to bury my dick in her, you better believe I'll do that just as easily."
I shut the door, keeping him inside. The son of a bitch can stay in there and fester with his thoughts. The thought of sticking my dick in Vera makes me nauseous. Her bad attitude doesn't make up for her killer body, even if she wishes it would.
I head down the hall, stopping at the bathroom door once again. The shower is off, but the light is still on, and I know she's still in there. I turn right, heading into her bedroom.
Flicking on the light, my shoe crunches as I step into her room. I glance down, pressing the toe of my boot onto a broken frame at my feet. Bending over, I pick up the dark wood, turning it over to see what it is she decided to destroy.
There she is.
Vera sits in the middle, with two equally as punkish-looking kids standing on either side of her. They all have their middle fingers in the air, like they’re sayingfuck the world. Their faces are even harsh, like they're pissed.
They're trying too hard.
I drop the frame, letting it shatter even more. I step over the glass pile, walking farther into her room and examining her things. She doesn't have much. Some other photos here and there. No art on the walls. A simple dresser and bed. One nightstand with a lamp on top. Two oversized brown boxes sit in the corner of her room. Shit the movers didn’t unpack, I guess. Who knows if she’ll ever unpack them, or maybe she just hopes they can stay that way and she’ll find a way out of here.
I walk up to her dresser, pulling open the black drawer. Colorful panties and bras fill the space, messy and unorganized.
Like her. The messiness suits her.
Without a second thought, I grab a handful of lace, the scraps of fabric so small I can pull them all out with just one hand. I leave her bras in there, shutting the drawer and walking out, flicking the light off as I go.
15
VERA
Shit, it's cold outside this morning.
I groan as I walk to my closet, because as much as I wish I didn't have to go today, after my conversation with my mom yesterday, I know staying home is impossible. Not that I think she would've believed me. It's like these past few years have grown us into enemies. Our relationship we used to have has shattered, just like the picture frame from the night before. It feels like there's no trying to fix it at this point.
Like what we have is gone for good.
I drag my feet as I walk to my closet, grabbing another uniform off the hanger. The ugly plaid skirt is too long, and even after the nuns bickered about my dress today, I just can't dress like the other girls. It's not me, and if they want to whip me until each knuckle and bone in my body is bruised, well, I guess that's what it'll be.
I decide against fishnets today, and instead choose a pair of thigh high socks. Their warm, and it'll help against the bitter breeze that seems to be outside today. It feels like the coldness has seeped into the house, the floor against my toes so freezing that they feel numb.
Do they even have the heat on? I swear, it feels like it's below freezing temperatures in here.
I walk to my dresser, opening up my drawer to grab some underwear.
My jaw clenches when I see half of my drawer missing. Actually,all of my panties are missing. My bras still sit on the other side, completely untouched.
"That motherfucker…" I whisper.
I slam my drawer closed, making the entire dresser rock against the wall.
I walk back and forth at the foot of my bed, trying to figure out what to do.
I could go to his room and demand them back. I could go tell my mom and Samuel, or I can pretend like his childish games mean absolutely nothing to me. I can already tell it would piss him off to no end. It’d turn him rageful, a fucking beast to know he doesn’t affect me like he wishes he could.
A smirk lifts my lips.
Bingo.
I button up my top, the button at my neck suffocating me, but I don’t show off my cleavage. That’s the only thing I ever keep concealed, because I hate the questions. My skirt slides on next, and I zip it on the side, clasping the top. It's thick and constraining, but the no panties leave no amount of protection between my legs. One gust of wind and everyone would see my bare sex.
I pull my black socks onto my feet, inching them up my calves until they roll over each knee, ending at my lower thighs. They're simple, black, with an edging of lace on the top. The guys back in Fargo loved my thigh-high socks, and I think even in Catholic school, I might turn some heads.
Maybe Malik's?
