Page 1 of Sweet Misery

1

ARIANNA

Acold chill touched my skin, making me shiver as I sat on my lumpy twin bed in my dorm room on the Farris University campus. I stared down at the open textbook in front of me. I hadn’t done anything but stare at it for what felt like ages. Something just didn’t feel right. None of the words were sticking in my head. It seemed pointless to continue when it clearly wasn’t working.

Sighing, snapped the book closed before I reached out and grabbed my thin blanket to pull it around me. My gaze drifted to the photo frame on the nightstand. A picture of me with my mom stared back at me. Old and crinkled, but it was the only thing I had left of her aside from the locket I wore around my neck she’d given me as a birthday gift when I’d turned eight. Inside was that same photo, albeit a lot smaller. In the photo, she looked so content. So healthy. So… alive. She was always happy. But now she was gone, taken by a drunk driver on my eighth birthday.

It had been fourteen years since I’d lost her. Fourteen long years since I’d been sent to live with my father, a man who was little more than a stranger back then. Sometimes, I wondered ifit would have been easier if she’d lived long enough to warn me about him. Not that it would have changed much—when you’re eight, you don’t get a choice no matter how much you hate the circumstances.

I picked up the picture and examined it, letting my fingers brush along the crinkles on the paper, hoping that maybe if I focused hard enough, I could bring the past back to life.

"I miss you," I whispered in a choked voice. “I wish you were here instead of him.”

My father had been absent for most of my life. He only visited when he needed money or didn’t have anyone smaller to slap around. He’d stagger into the home I shared with my mom drunk out of his mind. I’d run to my room and close the door on Mom’s instruction, and then listen while she cried around the crashes and slaps that sounded out. Sometimes I’d hear him groan before her sobs would grow louder. It wasn’t until I was older and she was gone did I know he would rape her after taking all the money she had to fund his alcohol and gambling addictions. I knew he’d hit her because she’d cover her bruises with her makeup and fix a smile onto her face.

When Mom died, I tried running away as a way to avoid being forced to live with him. I’d been found within hours and shoved into the backseat of a social worker’s sedan and hauled right back to him. Each time I’d tried leaving after that would end in a severe beating. I finally gave in and never ran again.

I’d had the silly hope that he’d change. Maybe my mom had that hope too, but it quickly faded as each hit made contact. Before long, I accepted this was my life. I worked hard to get scholarships to get away from him and go to Farris. It had worked, and I only went home when he called and demanded it of me. When he needed money. Alcohol. The ugly memories of what he’d do to my mother had me handing over anything he wanted, even though I barely had anything as a strugglingcollege student. I’d go without if it meant not suffering the beatings. At least he’d never raped me like he had her. For that I was grateful. But it had turned into a nightmare, so I’d come home just so he’d stay away from the Farris campus. Now I was at Eaton University in my hometown, having transferred in because he vowed to beat down my door daily at Farris if I didn’t. Fear and embarrassment had me transferring back my final year.

I’d left everything behind to get away from him, even a budding romantic relationship with my only friend in the world. Severo Saconne. He’d kissed me the night of our high school graduation party. One of the elite had thrown it, and I was just a scholarship kid, but he insisted I go. So I had. He’d kissed me beneath the stars, and I told him I wanted him as much as he wanted me. Then I’d gone home to get beaten by my father before I ran one last time as a means to survive. It was just as well. I knew keeping a relationship with Sever would only hurt him, and it was the last thing I wanted to do because he suffered like I did. I was doing us both a favor. I missed him though. My only friend in the world, and I’d abandoned him.

The vibrating buzz of my phone tore me away from my morose thoughts. I glanced at the screen to see my father’s name.

My guts churned as I stared down at the device. He didn’t call me often since I’d returned, and when he did, it usually meant trouble. Knowing this, I still answered.

“Arianna.” His words came out in a sharp slur. “I need you to come home. Now.”

I hesitated, knowing I didn’t have enough money to give him. “It’s late, Dad. I-I have classes tomorrow?—”

“Get your fucking ass home or I’ll come there and drag you out. Do you understand? I’m sure you wouldn’t want allyour little friends seeing your punishment for disobeying your father.”

My hands shook, and I swallowed my fear as I glanced at the clock on my nightstand. It was just past nine at night. There was no escaping him, so trying would only end in him showing up on campus and causing a stir. He’d done it before to me when I was in high school too. Being constantly tormented by the rich assholes already took its toll, but it was only made worse by my father showing up and shoving me around for everyone to see. One would think it would light a fire with the administration to get me help, but they’d simply turned the other cheek. To them, I was just another stain marring their prestigious school and should be grateful I got to attend. My mother’s life insurance had paid for most of my education until I graduated high school. She hadn’t had much, but it was enough to get me that education. Had my father been able to touch that, I knew I’d have ended up at the local public school instead and he’d had squandered the money that was rightfully mine. In fact, the little bit left over after my high school education was paid was quickly used by him within the same week it became available. It didn’t surprise me, but it did hurt me.

“I’ll be there soon,” I replied, my voice wobbling. I ended the call without saying goodbye.

My dad didn’t live farfrom the campus, but I took my time getting there. My old car barely had life in it, and the life it did have left, I didn’t want to waste going to visit him, yet there was I was, listening to the familiar rattle of the rusted out fenders whenever I hit a pothole. The emergency fifty I kept was inmy pocket since I knew he’d ask for money in addition to my presence.

Eventually, I couldn’t keep driving below the speed limit and doing extra laps around the block, so I pulled into the driveway of the neglected home I’d spend most of my adolescence in. Peeling paint, broken shutters, boarded up windows and missing shingles. It wasn’t the place one would want to call home, but it’s where I grew up and really all I had unless I counted my cramped dorm room.

Sighing, I parked my car and got out. The old wooden steps creaked under my feet, sagging beneath what little I weighed. The very real fear of the entire thing collapsing and breaking my ankle weighed heavily on me so I made haste getting to the front door, avoiding a rotted out board along the way.

Reaching out, I pushed the door open only to be greeted by the smell of stale alcohol and a musky scent like that of an old basement. This was just because the place was a disgusting mess since I’d moved into the dorms. He never cleaned. He simply let the beer cans and bottles of booze pile up right next to the old takeout boxes.

“Dad?” I called out, stepping around a bag of trash that hadn’t made it to the curb.

“You took your time getting here,” he muttered, standing too quickly and swaying on his feet. The stains on his dirty white shirt made me look away. I could smell him from where I stood.

I stepped deeper into the small living room. “What’s going on? Is everything OK?”

He stared me down for a moment before speaking. “I need some money.”

Briefly, I closed my eyes and hung my head before I dug into the pocket in my skirt and took out the fifty I had. I was short this month and knew I’d need it to eat, but it looked like that wasn’t going to happen. I held my hand out with the money andhe wasted no time coming to me and snatching it before stuffing it into his pocket.

“I’ll pay you back,” he said, stepping around me. I stared at the wall in front of me. He always said that but never did unless I counted him hitting me whenever he needed a punching bag. So in that manner, he gave me a lesson if nothing else.

“Come on,” he continued, pulling open the front door. “We’re leaving.”

“Where?” I frowned, not moving forward to follow. We never went anywhere together. For a moment, my heart lifted, thinking maybe he wanted to talk. Form a bond. Be a father.

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