Home is where the scars grow deepest
"Are you done feeling me up?." Alex teased, smirking with a dark glint in his gray eyes.
My hands, which had apparently been clinging to him during my clumsy stumble, flew off as if scalded. I scrambled backward, trying to regain some semblance of posture, though my cheeks were already blazing. "I, uhm... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that. Not that I was actually doing that, But yeah… I'll just shut up now".
Could I be more awkward?.
My tongue felt heavy and my thoughts jumbled. I couldn't string a sentence together without stuttering like an idiot. Talking isn't usually a problem for me, unless I'm nervous or scared or standing too close to Alex Dankworth, who apparently short-circuits my entire nervous system.
How could he ever possibly like me after that?. Perhaps a shark swallowing me whole wasn't such a bad idea. I'd take anything rather than standing here, malfunctioning like a fool in front of him.
"It's alright, love." He said with a slow, dangerous wink. He said with a wink that sent my brain into static.
Words?, What were words again?. My cheeks couldn't have gotten any redder. They must be glowing like stoplights.
Mercifully, someone called out, breaking the tension. "Hey, Alex, are you coming to the party at the bar?."
It was Martin, Alex's permanent shadow. The two of them are basically joined at the hip. They were almost always together, rarely seen with anyone else, aside from the usual swarm of girls always clinging, like bees to honey.
Martin's tall, with blond locs and hazel eyes that seem to look straight through you. Martin had the kind of effortless handsomeness that belonged on magazine covers, but beside Alex?, Even the sun seemed dull.
"Yeah, sure." Alex replied, voice casual but his gaze lingered on me a second longer. That look, half amusement, half something darker sent shivers down my spine.
Martin glanced between us, confused. As though wondering what Alex was doing with me. "Everyone's heading there now." Martin added, tone light but eyes curious. I ignored his stares and tried to look anywhere but the two impossibly beautiful men in-front of me.
"Let's go." Alex said, finally turning away but not before giving me one last look that made my heart do backflips.
As I watched them walk off, my chest tightened and my heart found some strange, panicked rhythm.
Yep. Should've called the ambulance ten minutes ago.
***
I paused at the front of my house, gripping the strap of my bag as I drew in a deep breath. It was a ritual. A preparation for stepping back into the familiar, stifling air of home. Dad had texted earlier that he couldn't pick me up because he was at the airport picking up my siblings. Lucky me.
I was the youngest child in my family. People assume being the youngest comes with perks—spoiled, babied, pampered. Maybe for some but not for me, not in this house.
I have two siblings; Chase and Rena.
Chase is the oldest. Dark curls from Mom. Everything else? All Dad. He's the classic golden son except when he's not.
Rena, my sister. "The most beautiful daughter," everyone called her. Blue eyes like the ocean, waist-length blonde hair, a figure that looks photoshopped, and a brain to match.
She's studying to be a surgeon, Of course she is. Beautiful, brilliant, beloved. I want to hate her, but mostly, I just want what she has. The love. The attention. The ease.
I inhaled one final breath of fresh, fleeting peace before pushing the door open.
The moment I stepped inside, the scent of Pasta and tomato sauce wrapped around me—Dad's futile attempt at stitching us back together with food.
"Hey, princess, dinner is served," my dad's voice boomed from the dining room.
I walked quietly to the table, my head bowed, trying to become invisible to everyone else. I took a seat at the far end, as far away from them as possible.
"So you're just going to sit there, gobble down food like a glutton, and ignore our presence?" Chase's sigh was heavy with contempt. "Typical Lily. Wouldn't expect anything else." He spat the words, and I could feel his eyes on me, gauging my reaction, in fact waiting for it.
"H-hi. Welcome home. " I said, barely above a whisper as I poked at my food. My appetite had left the building. I could put up a show for them but I'd be damned if I lied to myself that I was glad to see them, especially Chase.
"As always, stuttering like a foolish little girl." Chase barked, his voice rising, seemingly fueled by my lack of reaction.
"You shouldn't speak to your sister that way." my dad said, his voice laced with clear annoyance, but that had never stopped Chase before.
And Rena?, As always, she simply sat, a silent observer, ignoring everything unfolding around her—as if her younger sister wasn't being verbally assaulted right in front of her. Again. I wasn't surprise
"She wrote her final test today. She's officially done with high school. The least we could do is celebrate with her and not make rude comments like that." My dad had stopped eating, his glare fixed on Chase.
Chase scoffed. "It wouldn't matter if she was graduating from Harvard. She wouldn't amount to anything." He turned me and locked his gaze. "Her education— a total waste of everybody's time and resources because little Lily here is just a dumb, silly, self absorbed attention-seeking bitch.,"
I stood up so fast the chair screeched.
I didn't say a word. I just ran out of the room, up the stairs, into my bedroom. Chase yelled after me to come back, but I slammed the door shut and locked myself in.
And then I cried.
Not a single tear kind. The kind that surges through you like an ocean. The kind that feels like you're drowning in water and your lungs are already full. The kind that makes you curve into a ball grasping for air because your chest feel tight. The kind that feels like your heart is being ripped open but you're alive to witness it all. The kind that takes your voice away, but the pain is ever present. The kind that has you begging whatever entity to make it all go away. The kind that encourages you to dig deeper into your wrist.
I couldn't cry in front of them, couldn't let them know how much their words affected me. I never do. But it does hurt. Every time. No matter how used to it I pretend to be.
All my life, I had always tried to do everything right, to be the perfect sister and daughter. Just so they might see me, even for a minute. To feel their love, or at least be accepted.
But it's never enough. I'm never enough.
Every single time my family treated me this way, I'd stay up all night, crying, wondering what I had done wrong. I guessed my only mistake was being born.
It all started after my mom's death. My siblings, blinded by their grief, had always blamed me for her passing. Not that I even saw her take her last breath; I was away on a school trip when I heard the news.
But maybe being gone made it easier to cast me as the villain. Maybe blaming me gave them something to hold onto.
Or perhaps this was what I told myself was the reason. Just something to make me feel better, so I knew they had a reason for hating me. Not that they just treated me badly for no reason at all.
Maybe ... they just don't love me. Maybe that's the real truth.
I was tired.
So tired.
But not broken.
Not yet.
College was my escape. I want to be a writer. Poetry. Stories. Anything to put this pain into words. But that's not "real" enough for my family. So I'll study law. It's what they want. If it gets me out of this house, I'll take it.
My phone buzzed. I sniffled and glanced at the screen.
Tiffany: Still home?
Me: Yeah.
Tiffany: Hope you're dressed.
Me: Dressed for what?
Tiffany: The party, silly. I'm picking you up in 10. Be ready.
Me: I can't. My siblings are home. They'll never let me.
Tiffany: Get dressed anyway. I'll deal with the rest.
I groaned and flopped face-first into my pillow. I did not want to go. I wanted to stay here, under the covers, and disappear.
"I don't even know what I'm supposed to wear to this party," I muttered to myself. This was the part I hated most about leaving my house, aside from leaving my house in general.
But then… I remembered.
Alex would be there.
He'd looked at me, really looked like I mattered. Maybe tonight, I could feel that again.
I wiped my cheeks with the sleeve of my shirt, sat up slowly, and made a silent promise.
I would go.
Maybe, just maybe tonight would be the night something dark and beautiful began.