Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

AURORA

I turned to stare down at my mother. She was still in her crimson silk dressing gown. It was only loosely belted. One side slipped down over her shoulder, baring the top of her surgically enhanced breast. It looked odd. The skin over her cleavage was a mottled red and slightly wrinkled but the skin over her breast was stretched smooth and tight, unnaturally so.

The vodka in her broken martini glass sloshed down her wrist and over her sleeve as she gestured wildly to me. She lifted the glass and drank from the side still intact, heedless of the sharp edge of broken glass near her lips. "Did you have fun spreading your legs like a whore last night?"

I turned my back on her. "I have homework, Meredith ."

After what she did last night, she was no longer a mother to me, if she ever had been.

With more strength than I thought she possessed, my mother raced up the few steps and grabbed my ponytail. She yanked it backward. We both stumbled. She slammed against the wall before tightening her grip and dragging me by my hair off the stairs, down the hall and into the kitchen.

I pulled away and rubbed my bruised scalp.

Meredith tossed her broken martini glass into the sink. Shards of glass shattered against the stainless steel surface then skittered across the marble kitchen island top. She bumped her head against the nearest cabinet before opening it and retrieving two more martini glasses. She placed them on the marble counter so hard I thought they too would break. She then reached for a metal cocktail shaker. As she held it over her head and started to shake, it fell from her grasp. It took several tries for her to finally get a grip on the smooth metal canister that was covered in condensation from the melting ice.

She yanked the top off and sloshed vodka into both glasses. Reaching for her own, she pushed the second one in front of me. "Drink."

I swallowed past my dry mouth. "I don't want it."

Meredith nodded knowingly. She swung around, spilling vodka on the floor. She opened the refrigerator and pulled out a jar of olives. Opening it, she dumped several olives into my martini glass, sending the vodka spilling over the lip of it. She then awkwardly lowered herself into a curtsy. "There you go, Your Majesty . You now have a proper martini. Now drink."

I looked down at the martini glass, which now contained a cloudy, greenish mess as a small handful of olives sank to the bottom. "I'm not old enough."

She scoffed. "You were plenty old enough to suck Roman Winterbourne's cock last night."

It was on the tip of my tongue to correct her. I so badly wanted to say I hadn't sucked his cock last night but did today at school, but wisely kept silent. It never came to any good testing my mother while she was in one of her drunken moods.

Bitter bile stung the back of my throat as I blinked back tears. "You and Alfred forced me to go upstairs with him."

She swallowed the rest of her martini. Wiping the vodka that dribbled over her chin with the back of her hand, smearing her red lipstick across her cheek, she said, "Bullshit. You think you are so much better than me and yet when the opportunity came, you couldn't fucking wait to spread your legs for the first rich man who showed an interest in you." She picked up the vodka bottle and gestured toward me. "You're no different from me." She cackled. "You're just like your devoted mother, daughter ."

I placed my palms on the counter's cool marble surface. "I am your daughter and as my mother you should have protected me!"

This time she didn't even bother with the cocktail shaker. She just poured straight vodka into her martini glass and took a sip. "Protected you from what? Roman Winterbourne is so fucking rich his spunk is probably made of gold."

I grimaced at the crude reference. "I have homework."

I didn't, but I'd say anything to get away from her and her vile comments.

She reached over and snatched my chin. Her long fingernails dug into my jaw as she squeezed it tightly. "What's the matter? Are you too good now to talk to your mother?"

Sadly, I had always been too good to talk to my mother.

If my father had shown the slightest interest in me, I would have left her to live with him years ago.

Unfortunately, I had known for quite some time that I was on my own.

I reared back. "Let go of me." I circled around the island, putting some distance between us.

"I did you a favor last night," she spit out.

My mouth opened in shock. "What? How is you and Alfred tossing me at Roman to save your own skin, doing me a favor?"

She dug her fingers into my discarded martini and fished out an olive. She popped it into her mouth and chewed as she spoke. "He's rich. You can forget about that stupid plan to go to university in Paris and stay here. If he's fucking you, he can't turn your father over to the police."

"Stepfather. And I don't see how him or you going to prison is any of my concern."

"Is that what you want? To see your poor mother in prison? Is that how you repay me for keeping you? Your piece of shit father wanted me to abort you, but I said no. And this is how I'm repaid. Do you have any idea what pushing out your big head did to my pussy?"

I cringed at her harsh words as she followed me around the island.

Still she continued her hate-filled rant. "Do you know what it was like trying to get another man to marry me with you hanging off my tit?"

I swiped at the tears blurring my vision. "It's not my fault I was born!"

She snatched at my upper arm, her fingers digging in so deep there were sure to be bruises later. "You ruined my life and now it's time for you to pay me back."

"How?"

"You're going to keep Roman Winterbourne happy. I don't care what he asks, you're going to do it, do you understand me?"

I tried to break her grasp but she only held on tighter. "No! I won't. If you like him so much, you sleep with him."

My taunt had hit its mark. We both knew Roman had shown no interest in her last night.

She stumbled backward. Leaning heavily on the counter, she made her way back to her martini. Without looking at me, she said, "He obviously only likes to fuck fat women."

If I hadn't heard her complain about my appearance since I was six years old, that may have stung. Compared to my mother's preferred emaciated appearance, my curvy hips and big boobs were an abomination in her eyes. She would never forgive me for not following her lead and sacrificing all to be thin and blonde.

I headed toward the front entryway. "I have homework and then practice."

She called after my retreating back, "You're going to do this for us, Aurora. You're going to play nice for Roman Winterbourne or I will make your life a living hell."

Too late.

I changed out of my school uniform and then snuck down the back servant staircase to the music room. The bare room was empty except for my beloved piano. It had been left by the previous owners, either unwanted or too expensive to move. Despite being a Steinway baby grand, it was an ugly thing. The previous owners had chosen the Macassar Ebony finish, which had a garish orange glow with black zebra-like stripes. I didn't care. I loved it.

I sat on the bench and stroked the smooth keys.

A clap of thunder shattered the silence. Sheets of rain pummeled the small, enclosed garden just outside my music room window.

I thought for a moment, my hands hovering over the keys. Closing my eyes, I began to play Schubert's 'Winterreise.' The simple yet forlorn bleakness of the piece suited my mood. I had shifted into the major key when the music room door opened.

Refusing to look up as I played, I was surprised to hear Alfred's voice when I was expecting my mother. "Playing again, I see," he observed.

Deciding that his declaring the painfully obvious was not worth a response, I continued to play, seeing the notes swim before my eyes as if the sheet music were in front of me.

Alfred approached. He rested his drink on the top of my piano. I glanced up and watched a bead of condensation slip down the side of the glass. It then pooled on the polished wood, leaving an ashy white ring on its varnished surface.

He leaned heavily on my piano. He stared down at my cleavage as he licked his lips. "So how did you get along with Mr. Winterbourne last night?"

Wishing I had thought to toss my pink cardigan over my T-shirt before coming downstairs, I hunched my shoulders in a vain attempt to block his gaze. "I wasn't on a date, Alfred. The man forced himself inside my bedroom."

He slid his glass along the top of the piano, leaving a watery cloud in its finish, as he leaned in closer. "Don't play the shy virgin with me. I listened from downstairs. I didn't hear you scream for help."

My cheeks burned at the reminder that I didn't do much to fight off Roman's advances, quite the opposite in fact.

Alfred belched before continuing. "You've been strutting around here in your tight leggings, showing off your tits, acting like your pussy was too good for me for years." His breath reeked of stale whiskey and cigarettes as he hoisted himself off the piano and shifted to stand closer to me. "I should have done what Roman did."

I slid to the other side of the bench and rose. "You're repulsive."

Tossing his drink aside, he grabbed the front of my T-shirt and twisted it in his fist. He was a small man, at least two inches shorter than me, but alcohol and lust fueled his strength as he wrenched me into his arms. "Listen, you little whore. You're going to spread your legs and give me that pussy like you did for that smug bastard."

I twisted in his embrace. "Get off of me!"

His wet lips pressed against the top of my breast. "Stop fighting me, bitch. You know you want it. You're like a cat in heat."

I stretched out my arm and reached for his discarded glass, the closest thing to a weapon I could see. My fingertips grazed the edge of the piano as Alfred forced his hand between my legs. He snatched my free hand and pressed it to his crotch. "Bet my cock is bigger than his. Those rich assholes always have tiny cocks. How do you like that piece of meat, huh? I'll probably tear your pussy to shreds with it," he boasted.

Anger welled in my chest. Neither of the two people in this world who were supposed to care about and protect me gave a damn about my welfare. My mother wanted me to be Roman's whore for her own selfish reasons and Alfred just wanted his sloppy seconds.

My hand finally closed around the glass. Raising it high, my upper lip lifted in disgust as I jeered, "Your cock feels like a shriveled-up maggot compared to Roman's thick… raging… hard-on ."

I couldn't believe I'd actually uttered those words. Still, I would have said anything to throw Alfred off guard.

"You fucking bi?—"

He never finished his sentence.

I brought the glass down on his head. It shattered, sending chilled water, whiskey, and shards of glass spilling down his head and over his swollen stomach. Alfred staggered back. I stared in horror as blood seeped from the open wound on his forehead. He reached up and felt the gash. He then lowered his hand and stared at his blood-covered fingers as if he didn't recognize what the crimson liquid was or what it meant at first.

His bleary eyes then focused on me. "You're going to pay for this, you little cunt."

He launched himself at me.

I stepped aside just in time.

He staggered and fell. His hand smeared blood across the hardwood floor as he struggled to rise.

Just then my mother walked in.

Her screams echoed in my head as I bolted past her and ran out the front door, into the dark rainy night.