Total pages in book: 150
Estimated words: 143633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 718(@200wpm)___ 575(@250wpm)___ 479(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 143633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 718(@200wpm)___ 575(@250wpm)___ 479(@300wpm)
“Where did you go?” she asked again. “You weren’t there at two. I checked.”
“Why do you care now? You didn’t care last night!” I could feel myself getting upset, and I didn’t want that. I wanted to keep my own hurt away from Mum. “Forget about it. I’m going to listen to my book for a bit. Catch you later.”
She didn’t bother fighting me.
“Scottie’s coming over at eight.”
“Yeah, I heard. Can’t wait.”
I was so angry that I thumped a pillow when I flopped onto my bed. My head was spinning, and I hated this shithole, and I wanted to punch Scottie in the face for even daring to come back. I wished I was strong enough to do it, but he’d laugh in my face. I couldn’t even pull him off her during a chokehold, so I wasn’t going to be able to kick him to the floor.
I tried listening to my book to kill the chatter in my head, but even though I sought out an especially filthy age gap professor novel, it didn’t combat the rage I felt about Scottie being back in Mum’s life. The minutes turned into hours, slowly, and eight p.m. must have arrived. I felt the thump of the front door closing. The asshole was here.
I fought as hard as I could, but by 10 p.m. I was desperate for the toilet, so had no choice but to show my face out there. Scottie jumped on the opportunity as soon as he saw me, already chilling out on the sofa like he owned the place.
“Hey, Rosie, you alright?”
“No!” I said and walked straight on into the bathroom.
I took my time, determined to return to my bedroom and stay there right through until morning, unless Mum was screaming her head off. I took a shower, with my coconut shampoo and my foam body wash, then got back into my PJs, teeth brushed and ready for bed. I only needed a simple glass of water from the kitchen. I’d munched on enough garlic bread and salad through my shift that I didn’t need any dinner.
“Scottie wants to talk to you,” Mum said as I marched past them.
My glare must have been cold enough to burn.
“I don’t give a fuck what Scottie wants,” I told her, then looked at him with a hateful sneer. “I promise you, you piece of shit, if you lay your hands on my mum again, I’m going to call the police. I don’t care how much she denies it, and I don’t care how much you try to squirm out of it with garage flowers and promises. Next time, I’m going to make sure I get pictures of you on my phone, and I’m going to push and push until you get what you deserve.”
His face turned sour. “I’ve changed, Rosie.”
“BULLSHIT!” I yelled. “You’re a vile piece of shit, who likes hurting my mum! That doesn’t ever change!”
Even now, in his I’m so sorry phase, he didn’t show any kind of true remorse. He looked like he wanted to rip my heart out. Part of me wished he would, just so I could go after him for real, with bruises on me and not on my mother. There would be no chance of denial then. I’d have the evidence on myself.
I don’t know if there was something different in the way I held myself as I stood there this time around. If there was more fire in my eyes, or I was at the point where I genuinely had reached my limits, once and for all. I didn’t know what was truly behind it, but something had shifted inside me. Who knows? Maybe it was someone upstairs who actually gave a fuck about me for once, and who’d given a true fuck about my mum. Contrast can be a powerful thing.
Whatever it was, Scottie picked up on it. He straightened in his seat, but he met my stare with a darkness of his own.
“I don’t like hurting your mum, Rosie.”
He was holding his words back in front of her. I knew what he really wanted to say. He wanted to threaten me back and call me the names he called her, and likely crush my throat like he wanted to crush hers in one of his rages, but I didn’t give a shit. The blood was pumping in my veins.
“You’re pathetic,” I told him. “You know that? You’re pathetic. You only want to fight people smaller than you, which is virtually nobody, you wimpy little shithead.”
“Rosie!” Mum said, like I was the one who’d broken the boundary.
I didn’t break my stare, wishing I could shoot daggers from my eyes.
“You’re pathetic,” I told him again. “And one day you’re going to pay for it. I can’t wait until you rot in hell!”
I didn’t hang around at that. I turned and walked away, slamming my bedroom door behind me and putting my water on the bedside table with shaking hands.