Page 3 of Grit & Glamour

Chapter Three

“Are you fucking stupid?” a harsh, feminine voice wakes me, the yelling from downstairs so loud, I swear our oversized home shudders from the power of it. I spare a glance at Caleb, thankful he’s still fast asleep. Over the years he's developed the brilliant ability to sleep through any kind of noise, but he’s quick to wake the second anyone actually gets close to him. Among a few other special quirks of his, this is one of the more useful talents that he's acquired from our unique upbringing.

“Shut up, Ally. You've got a text message,” a slightly softer, male voice shouts back. A few seconds pass, and then something shatters downstairs. The house falls into silence following the sounds of destruction below. Other than Caleb's gentle snores anyway.

My nerves ratchet up, the quiet putting me on edge, and I shift into an upright position on the sofa. Licking my lips I try to steel my nerves as I stare intently at my bedroom door. My protection mode comes out, and my defences up after the snippets I heard of their conversation. It sounded like they were arguing over if they trusted what someone else had told them. I'm not sure who it is or what they've told them, but whatever it is, it's worrying. Especially considering my recent actions.

Hearing footsteps coming up the stairs, I spring off the sofa, leaving the blanket abandoned in a heap on the floor. Without thinking, I dart over to my bed to grab my hockey stick from underneath it. I've never played hockey, but a hockey stick is a lot easier for a seventeen year old girl living in London to explain away than a gun. The stick would have to do for my protection—if it becomes necessary. As I stand up, my gaze flickers down to Caleb, now awake from my rustling under the bed. I give him a quick smile, before turning back towards the door, holding the hockey stick with both hands.

Those ominous footsteps make a direct path to my bedroom door, and my grip tightens on the stick. There’s a light knock on my door, followed by an exaggerated sigh, and then a rapid, more insistent, three tap knock. I don’t speak, waiting for their next move.

“Scarlett, open the damn door. We need to speak with you immediately,” my mother’s voice insists through the door, in a fake, pleasant tone.

“What do you want?” I call back, trying to sound bored and disinterested as per usual. I turn back to Caleb and mime for him to go out the window the way we practiced. Luckily, there’s a small balcony on the next room over that’s reachable from my window, and a rather large tree which is good for climbing next to that. I’m nervous about him scrambling down without me there to spot him, but it’s better than him being stuck in here if they decide to break the door down.

A loud thump rattles the door, followed by another, and then a grunt, before my mother’s voice starts ordering me around again. “Unlock the door right now, Scarlett. You wouldn’t want to make us unhappy, now would you? We just returned from such a lovely holiday, and I would hate for you to be the cause of our ruined mood, wouldn’t you, sweetheart?”

Caleb shakes his head at me, pointing instead at the door. He knows the punishment for not doing what you’re told, and so do I. Unfortunately, I think the punishment for hiring an assassin to kill them is a lot, lot worse. I make more frantic gestures at him, before giving up and herding him to the window. I lean down and kiss his forehead, before tilting to whisper in his ear. “Go to the safe place. I’ll come and find you. I just need to make sure you’re clear before I leave, make sure you get enough of a head start, okay?”

Something thumps into the door again, more forceful this time. I cringe at the sound of the wood beginning to buck and crack underneath the assault. “Hurry!” I urge Caleb, pushing him towards the window as he pulls on his hoodie. He always keeps an extra in here, same with shoes. He grabs his spare pair and shoves his feet into them, tying the laces haphazardly. I’d moan at him for it, if it wasn’t for the continued smashing into my bedroom door.

“Promise you’ll be there?” Caleb asks me, as he stands frozen by the window. A small part of the door cracks and splinters open.

“I promise that I’ll do everything I can to get back to you. I promise that I’ll never abandon you. Ever. I promise you that I will always have your back and keep you safe, okay? Now move your ass before I push it out of the window, damn it!” I snap at my brother quietly. He grabs me in an unexpected, awkward, one-armed hug, and my heart melts. He despises hugs.

“I love you, Scar,” he mumbles, before stepping back and moving to the window. Too shocked from his actions, I just stare after him as he climbs out and onto the balcony. I lean my head out of the window and watch him scrambling onto the tree. He does this cute little combination of a climb, shimmy, and shuffle down, and thankfully sticks the landing on the ground. He takes off running without pause, and pride rushes through me at his determination.

Another crash against the door busts it. It caves in and breaks away from the frame, allowing my mother and her boyfriend to enter the room. Her eyes survey the room, taking in the fact both the bed and the sofa have been slept on, before looking towards the open window, and then back over to me. She gives me a forced, saccharine smile

“What did you do, Scarlett?” she asks me, stepping towards me. I grip my hockey stick tightly and bring it up to torso level, ready to strike. She doesn’t bat an eyelash, paying it no mind. “Tell me what you did, honey,” she requests again.

“Nothing. I didn’t do anything.”

“Then why did you lock your door?” she presses through gritted teeth, her left eye twitching.

“Because I don’t trust you,” I answer. My locked door is nothing new.

“Why are you brandishing that stick, waving it around?” she continues her line of questioning.

“What part of I don’t trust you don’t you understand?” I question back, narrowing my eyes on her.

“Do you even play hockey, darling? I’ve never seen you take an interest in any sport in your life,” she comments dully, as if it matters at all.

“You don’t pay attention to my life enough to know that about me, mother,” I tell her.

“Call me Aly, darling. You know I told you that terms like mother just age a woman. It’s empowering to just use my name,” she drones.

“Mother, are you done?” I ask, still holding the stick ready. Is this really all she has?Can I talk my way out of this?

“No, Scarlett. I am not done.” She pauses and runs her eyes over me. “Pity, you could have done so much with that had you not been so utterly and completely useless. I gave you all that, and you waste it.” She pauses again, sparing a glance at her boyfriend before turning back to me. “I could have made you into something brilliant, but you just had to be you and ruin it at every step for me. Every plan I made for my family, destroyed by the fact I had two worthless, broken children. One ruined by an insufferable personality and attitude that nothing seems capable of breaking. And the other’s so broken he can’t even attend a normal school. Who will inherit my empire, Scarlett? Because it surely won’t be either of you.”

“Shut the hell up about Caleb, you fucking monster,” I snap, my major trigger activated, and my fury now chasing away all sense.

“Monster? I’m not a monster. I just gave birth to two. I should have known with your father. Such a beautiful man, but with an ugly, wretched soul. I should have aborted you. Had your grandmother not advised me to keep you, I most certainly would have.” She shows no emotion at all as she tells me that she wishes I’d never been born, and I make sure to hide mine in return. I refuse to give her the satisfaction.

“Are you done now?” I ask again, proud when my voice doesn’t break. She can’t break me apart with her words anymore. Not since my seventeenth birthday. Everything changed that day, and she lost her power to hurt me fully in that way ever again. Even though the cost was great, I’m grateful for that at least. Anything I feel now is dulled, blanketed under layers of denial, repressed memories, and sheer emptiness.

“Not even close,” she sneers. I lurch back as her boyfriend steps towards me. I think this one’s name is Jared… but she goes through them so quickly I could easily be wrong. One thing they all have in common is the fact that they’re all happy to turn a blind eye to what my mother does to Caleb and me. But the worst ones? They join in.

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