Page 9 of Scream Little Sister

“No, no,no.” The ruler whistles as it flies down with a sharp swing and slaps against my arm. I yelp and flinch away from her reach, but that doesn’t stop her from closing the space and swatting me again.

“Stop it!” I scream.

Madam Joan thwacks me again. “I will once you do it right.”

“I have been!”

She gives me a displeased look and arches a thin eyebrow. “You call whatever that monstrosity you’ve been doing,right? Any potential suitor for your hand will take one look at your pathetic excuse of a curtsy and walk away. Now do it as I showed you.”

I suck in a breath and hold it, just so I don’t lash out at her. Raising my chin, I carefully lift my skirt and curtsy. I squeeze my eyes closed as I brace for the looming swat from Madam Joan’s ruler. When it doesn’t come, I pop open an eyelid and peek at her. Madam Joan nods once with the same displeased expression.

“Better,” she says, then strides toward the long table lined with large wooden chairs splashed with red velvet. “Next lesson.”

The next few hours drag as Madam Joan lectures about fine dining. I’ve already heard most of her lessons from my father. It’s so boring that I sometimes zone out, only to be brought back when Madam Joan smacks me with her stupid ruler. I leave the first lesson with red welts on my arm and the urge to angry-cry.

“How did it go?” Tim asks, breaking the silence on the drive home.

I don’t bother looking at him from the back seat. My gaze remains out the window. If Dad wants to send me to Madam Joan, then I’ll make sure I do a horrible job at learning how to be a lady. Maybe then he’ll realize I don’t want any of this and will remove me from the lessons.

“I don’t ever want to get married,” I finally say.

Tim makes a sound in the back of his throat that could pass as a sarcastic laugh. “Not sure if you’ll have a choice in that, kiddo.”

My fingers curl into my palms on my lap. Another surge of anger rushes through my veins. “I’m not marrying anyone.”

If I say it enough times, then maybe he’ll believe me. My dad wouldn’t make me marry some boy, would he? I don’t want to curtsy. I don’t want to sit at a dinner table with a back so straight that it hurts while I try to somehow eat my food without looking like a slob. Madam Joan’s words, not mine. I don’t care if I look rude for eating like a normal person would.

“You may not want to marry right now,” Tim says, “but when you aren’t a kid anymore, you’ll be paired with someone.”

I glare at the back of Tim’s head. The rest of the ride is quiet, and the whole time, I want to scream.

I make a promise to myself that I’ll never marry or even kiss a boy. My nose scrunches at the thought of even pushing my mouth against a boy’s lips like what I’ve seen in movies.

I’ll never have a boyfriend or even a stupid husband.

12 years old

“FOLLOW YOU” BRING ME THE HORIZON

Iswear I’ll end Mickey. Even if it’s the last thing I do before I grow up and ditch this town. Blood trickles from my nose to my busted upper lip, and I don’t bother swiping it away. The bleeding slowed on my walk back to Jerry’s house from hanging out with my friends in town.

I couldn’t enjoy one day with them without Mickey finding us and starting a fight. He may have gotten me a few times, but at least he’s now sporting a black eye, along with scratches over his cheek from when I shoved him onto the asphalt outside the mall’s entrance.

Keeping my head ducked, I walk through the large house that smells so different from the place where I came from. It doesn’t have the sweet notes to it like the air fresheners my mother uses. It’s earthy and smells like leather, along with a stale, sour scent I can’t put my finger on. Jerry smells exactly like this.

Rage bubbles in my veins at the reminder of my stepfather. Hatred twists my insides, and all I want to do is take all of this anger out on him. I don’t care that I spent all of my energy on fighting Mickey and that Jerry will easily overpower me.

I hate it here.

I hate him.

I hate his daughter.

I even hate my mother for marrying that asshole.

My steps slow as I slip out the back door to hide in my bedroom. Madison’s back is to me as she sits on the top step, blocking my escape.

My eyes narrow. She never hides like this.