***
I turn the volume up on my TV to drown out the sound of the torrential rain hammering against my window shutters.
A statewide alert for category four thunderstorms was given earlier today, with the storm expected to hit in the early hours of the morning.
I spent the better part of my day helping Noah and his family batten down the hatches and get all the livestock to safety in preparation. They were surprisingly calm considering the high threat posed against their livelihoods. The rest of the town, however, were not. The residents have lost their minds.
On my drive home earlier, the streets were filled with people rushing in and out of different stores, their arms loaded with supplies. They’ve even gone as far as boarding up their windows. Anyone would think they were preparingfor the apocalypse and not just a bit of thunder and lightning.
Then again, it’s not often we get a storm as severe as the one we have coming, so to say everyone is a little on edge would be an understatement.
As of right now, rain falls like a sheet beyond the shutters and the wind howls between the pines, creating an eerie feeling as the sky slowly turns darker with the fall of night. Yet, the storm we have rolling in out there doesn’t hold a candle to the storm already at full force inside this house.
The storm that is my mother.
I got home a little over an hour ago, soaked from the rain and cold to the bone after slugging my ass off all day. All I wanted to do was take a shower, eat something and pass out on my bed until the storm had passed and damage control had begun.
Unfortunately, my mother had different plans.
I arrived home to find her propped up at the kitchen table, a cigarette in one hand and a bottle of vodka in the other. Her eyes narrowed when they landed on me, a sneer twisting her weathered face and I was immediately on alert.
Nothing good can come from Clara Ashby when she’s half a bottle deep.
I made the decision right there that food wasn’t all that important. So, for my own sanity, I retreated straight for the shower instead.
Once I washed off the scent of horses and damp, I dried off, threw on some light grey shorts and climbed into bed, my body exhausted from the physical labour.
I readjust my pillows behind me and turn up the volume again, as my mom stumbles toward my bedroom door. Thesound of glass scraping along the wooden banister has me gritting my teeth, annoyance flaring inside me.
She mumbles something about my father being a waste of space as she approaches, the scent of stale vodka and smoke following her and seeping through the gap in my door.
I tense as her staggered footsteps pause outside my door, waiting for her to bring her wrath inside the haven that is my bedroom. It wouldn’t be the first time. My mother’s favourite past time is blaming me for the fact her husband left her. She’ll blame everyone but herself, when in reality he left because he was just as sick of her shit as the rest of us.
I’m not mad at my dad for leaving. I’m just mad that he left us behind when he did. He left me alone to deal with her destructive ways. I shouldered the burden of taking care of my little sister and protecting her from the hateful words and abusive actions of a bitter woman.
I was still a child myself, having to grow a skin thick enough that her insults would bounce off me. I had to protect Bella.
I finally release a breath when her movements continue past my door and down the hall toward her own, the sound of it slamming behind her rattling the thin walls.
I’m so fucking sick of this shit.
The moment I’m old enough and have enough money behind me, I’m getting out of this godforsaken house and never looking back.
I would have been gone a long time ago if it weren’t for the fact I’m not legally old enough to take custody of my sister. She’s only a year younger than me, but a year can feel like a long time when you’re living in hell. And I could never leave Bella alone here with her.
I used to spend most nights at Noah’s house. His parents have always made it very clear that their door is always open for me. That I have a place in their home if I ever need it. And I used to use that to my advantage any chance I got.
But lately, something has been keeping me at home.
And that something comes in the form of unruly curls and chocolate eyes.
Daisy Bennett.
My sister’s best friend.
And the subject of every one of my fantasies.
I pined after Daisy for years before I finally worked up the courage to ask her out on a date. At first, I held back because she was my sister’s friend and in turn, that meant she was off-limits. But then, because I have zero chill whatsoever when I’m around Daisy, my sister picked up on my crush and gave me the greenlight to ask her out under the condition I never do anything to hurt her.
