Page 33 of A Twist of Poison

They unknowingly handed me the knife so when I turned it round to cut them, they shouldn’t have been surprised by the damage inflicted. I had bigger problems at that moment in time.

Conflicting emotions warred within me, battling to be known at the forefront of my mind. Shoving my phone away, I padded to my closet, pulling out gym wear.

Shrugging off my matching shorts and cami top nightwear and throwing them to the bed, I pulled the underwear drawer open, gathering some clean panties. I tugged on the comfiest sports bra ever invented to hold my boobs solidly, so they didn’t flap everywhere when I worked out. I’d wear one full time if I could get away with it, alas it didn’t go with a lot of outfits. I was still unable to get over how much bigger they’d gotten, for all the wrong reasons.Lock it down.

I pulled on the berry-coloured skin-tight leggings with a black tank top, slid my feet into sneakers, and made sure I’d packed fresh clothing for afterwards.

I messaged my parents’ driver to come collect me and he gave me an ETA of twenty minutes. I washed my face and brushed my teeth before twisting my hair and throwing it into a messy bun for ease. I grabbed a quick fruit breakfast, enough to sustain the workout, but not enough that I’d puke it all back up once I started exercising.

My phone lit up notifying me the driver had arrived; I collected all my belongings and headed to the door. I unhooked my long black puffer coat in passing, remembering we were in winter, nearly forgetting the temperature outdoors, seeing as it was toasty warm inside. Huffing in annoyance at myself, I had to drop all my things to get it on before gathering everything up once again, closing the door behind me and finally making my way downstairs.

A bittersweet wave of homesickness overcame me as we pulled into the driveway of my family’s home. The old-fashioned Georgian house was painted beige with a bright blue front door situated directly in the middle. Windows were on each side and above, bringing a smile to my face as it always reminded me aesthetically of a real-life doll’s house. My sister and I used to slide across the wooden oak flooring, chasing after each other down the hallways. This was my home, packed with so many fond memories of growing up. The love shared within the house always filled me up, pouring into empty spaces.

But it was also tinged with the bitterness that he’d ruined my safe place. It was where he tore the blood of my innocence from me, painting it on the walls sadistically so it’d always be remembered, leaving a sour taste in what was supposed to always be somewhere I could lay my head safe and sound. He’d ruined that. Tainting too much in his unrelenting obsession.

Exiting the car, I let myself in the door, shouting out a greeting to anyone who was in as I made my way to the gym at the back of the house. I grabbed chilled water from the fridge, dumped the rest of my items, and hooked up my phone to the surround sound system. As Haunted by Isabel LaRosa blasted out loudly, I jumped on the treadmill setting the timer to warm up, power walking before switching to a consistent running pace. One song blended into another as the sweat poured down my spine, finding the peace that I often did when I ran, blissfully blank.

A euphoric feeling consumed me, the tangled emotions I’d felt so strongly earlier on slid away easily as I recognised the song playing as Giants by Dermot Kennedy. It brought a smile to my face instead of the usual sombreness that the lyrics invoked in me. Sometimes music was the only medicine the heart and soul needed.

For every emotion you felt, there were lyrics that spoke to you like a long-lost friend who knew your deepest, darkest secrets whispered about in the middle of the night. The beats stayed long after when everyone else had left. Music was my therapy and my everlasting painkiller; I blasted it so loud that it suffocated the gloomy thoughts that whirred in my mind. Musicians of the world consistently weaved their hopes, demons, and thoughts into the bars of their craft, serving themselves up on a silver platter to be scrutinised and judged unfairly by those who could never understand such depth.

The music cut suddenly. “Sweetheart.” My dad’s voice filtered through the room. I jolted, pushing the button to stop the treadmill, I grabbed the hand towel rubbing it over my face before hooking it round my neck. I took a long swig of my water, sighing in relief as the icy coolness thawed some of the heat running rampant inside my body.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you,” I admitted, taking a shaky step off the machine, my legs not thanking me for the prolonged exercise.

Peeking at the machine, I was half surprised, half impressed that I’d managed nearly an hour and fifteen minutes of consistent running. But goddamn did I ache. It would be a lot worse later. Worth it though; I’d choose physical pain over emotional every single time.

Dad smiled tenderly at me with so much emotion that I had to briefly look away, collecting myself. I donned my mask, shoving all my feelings deep down in that little box in the corner of my mind for safe keeping. That was the problem when you’d become so damaged, when somebody tried to give you the genuine affection that you deserved as a human being, you had no idea how to naturally respond.

“Come on, lunch is ready.” He quirked an eyebrow at me.

“I stink.” I sniffed dramatically to emphasise my point. The sweat drying on my skin made me itch. “I need a shower.”

“Stop faffing. Eat first, then you can shower,” he uttered in his no-nonsense voice, one that he used to overrule the three strong women he had in his life.

I stifled a small smile as I followed his lead to the kitchen, where my mom and sister were waiting for us with a feast laid out.

I slid in the chair. “What’s the occasion?” I questioned, as my stomach growled, and I joined my sister loading my plate up.

“No occasion,” Mom declared cheerily, flashing a tight-lipped smile, and that was how I knew she was gearing up to tell us something.

I shared a loaded look with Delaney. For a twelve-year-old she was smart as hell and came across older than she was. I never wanted her to grow up. The world was such a cold, hard place full of dishonesty and deception. The childhood bubble we had wrapped her up in was still firmly intact, but she wasn’t naïve or stupid at all. She’d always been the best mixture. I felt I’d lucked out within the sister department.

I shrugged my shoulders as the table fell silent with us all eating. I’d more than likely burned a shit ton of calories on that treadmill, so it wasn’t any wonder that I was shoving food in my mouth quicker than usual.

Delaney filled me in on her school workload for this year. Apparently, it’d been the hardest yearever. I bit my lip, refraining from telling her that every single year until she’s out of school was hard work and that we were only weeks into the school year, but nobody liked a negative Nancy.

Dad quizzed me about my psychology degree, and I dived into some detail, telling him what lectures we’d done so far, letting him know I’d relished in what we’d been learning. It piqued my interest no end. It was one of those subjects that’d be ever changing with a constant barrage of new information.

I just hoped by the end of the four-year course I had decided on some career path routes, anything to make sure I moved out of state, obviously. I wouldn’t even blink at the opportunity of moving out of the country and making sure I took one invaluable thing with me.

Mom coughed. One of those ingenuine ones to gather attention. Even my dad groaned as it cut off his conversation. We all looked at her, waiting impatiently as she patted the corners of her mouth with a fabric napkin then setting it on her lap.

“For Christmas Day this year, it’s been arranged that we attend the Mayor’s for a six course sit down meal with all the other legacy families, and some other important individuals.” She took a sip of her drink casually as if she didn’t just ruin Christmas in one fell swoop.Dammit, Mom.

I gulped, not willing to share my opinion on the matter because what would it change? Delaney whined about having to dress up with an ugly ass dress, and I hid the grin from her mini rebellion. Dad seemed irritated. I guessed it was as much of a surprise to him, too.

“When exactly was this arranged, Julia?” Dad challenged, anger coating his voice.

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