Page 54 of Volatile Obsessions

? Dollhouse - Melanie Martinez ?

He’s down there.

He’s still down there, drinking in excess, playing Rummy with his friends.

I groan in frustration.

Can’t he just go to bed already?

I’ve been waiting to go downstairs for what’s felt like hours, hiding out in the safety of my room. I can’t keep myself locked up much longer, though.

I’m parched, so parched my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth. I’m starved, too—especially after skipping supper— but I don’t want to face him.

I don’t want to face them.

My stomach grumbles in protest, reminding me the last time I ate was a small lunch at school. Wasn’t too hungry at the time, but I’m sure regretting it now. I rub at sore spot in attempt to quell that gnawing sense of hunger, but it rumbles again, louder this time.

It hurts, too; twisting, turning, and contorting.

I will myself to calm down, to breathe through it like all the other times, but it doesn’t work. All I can think about is how hungry I am, how wonderful a warm, cheesy sandwich would taste right now. I’m salivating just imagining it, and I know without a doubt, I’m going to have to brave the storm and make it down to that kitchen before I make myself sick.

Sucking in a heap of air, I turn the doorknob as quietly as possible and poke my head out into the darkened corridor. The door to their room is shut. No light shines beneath it either. I know mum is in there, though, probably preparing herself for what awaits when my father finally calls it a night. Just the thought of what she endures brings tears to my eyes. She hasn’t a clue I know, that I can hear them through the wall of my bedroom every time it happens.

But even if she did, I know she wouldn’t speak of it.

Just like I don’t either…

I’ve contemplated telling her, have come so close to spitting it all out when she’s just laying there in one of her dazed states, but I don’t, and I won’t. She’d deny it if anything, tell me I’m making it up and to stop accusing my father of such atrocities…

Laughter and a loud bang reel me back into the moment. I startle at the sound and reconsider my decision to tread downstairs, but my stomach rumbles yet again.

I don’t need a full plate. I’ll be in and out, I war with myself, shutting my door with the softest click.

On another deep breath, I pad carefully down the stairs in the darkness. My heart thumps with each step as though it might burst from my chest at any moment. I’m barely breathing, yet it thunders in my ears, spiking my pulse into a wild gallop. I have three steps to go when I hear voices from the telly drift into the foyer. It’s nothing but background noise, a concept I find rather pointless when it’s not like they can hear it. They’re louder with every beer consumed.

As I round the corner into the living area, my father’s icy stare collides with mine, penetrating me to my core. I fall rigid in place. The corner of his mouth quirks in the most subtle, satisfied smirk, but he says nothing, returning his attention to the men surrounding him as he takes another swig from his bottle.

You can do this, I remind myself. Grab what you need and get out.

Despite how small and afraid I feel, I hold my head high and amble into the kitchen with soft steps, hoping none of them will pay me any mind. I know it’s impolite not to acknowledge them and I may get in trouble for it, but I don’t even glance their way. I simply gather all I need from the refrigerator and take a place at the counter where I can see them, fixing myself a quick sandwich as quietly as possible; turkey, cheese, a leaf of lettuce, and some mayonnaise.

When I finish, I stow everything back in its rightful spot, pull out a fizzy drink, and grab a bag of crips from the basket on top of the fridge, thinking all is well.

The moment I spin around, though, all eyes are on me. It’s only then I realize the conversation had run quiet while I was storing my ingredients.

Crap.

I swallow deeply and remain in place, holding their stares. Stares that are hungered.

Familiar.

Every last one.

Get out, that little voice in my head advises.

My body instantly reconnects with my brain. I offer them a small smile and scamper out of the kitchen, making it just into the foyer when my father’s voice booms behind me.

“Lux, get back in here.”

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