One could fucking hope.
Jasmine – Age Fifteen
I slowly move my leaf green salad, the only thing I will be given tonight, around my plate, trying to make it look like I’ve eaten some of it even though I haven’t and definitely won’t while my parents discuss the next function they have to attend. Something about raising money for people without homes, a fundraiser that they don’t even care about, only going so they can keep up appearances but I don’t pay them any attention, I never do. If the world could swallow me whole and help me disappear then I’d welcome it.
I hate my life.
Okay, I know that sounds like a typical teenage thing to say but really, I hate my life and even though I’ve grown up privileged, been placed in the best schools in the state and live in a massive house most kids would dream of, if I could run away without my parents dragging me back because I’m their asset, I would. Money, wealth, it means nothing, not in my household, not with parents like mine.
I wouldn’t wish this life on my worst enemy.
“Jasmine!” Mama snaps and I tense as she commands, “Sit up straighter! What have I told you about slouching?”
It’s just the three of us sitting at the massive dining table that seats at least sixteen, yet she’s snapping because I don’t look poised enough for her liking.
Typical Mama fashion, always having to be perfect.
Trying not to roll my eyes knowing the punishment, I sit up straighter, press my back against the chair, and keep my eyes on my plate as I hold my breath and wait for her attention to return to my father.
If I make one wrong move, she’ll nitpick every little detail about me and put me down yet again, and honestly, I can’t be bothered to feel bad about myself, and don’t get me started about the basement.
The thought of the dark, cold basement where I have been shoved more times than I can count makes my heart race with fear, and I try not to move.
Growing up, I always thought my parents were normal, that this is how they are supposed to be, that the punishments I received for the smallest of things were what other kids had to deal with as well.
I was wrong.
They went to work as other kids' parents did, but they didn’t come home at a decent hour. No, they came home late most nights, except for Sundays, when Mama demanded a family meal at six every week. I thought being brought up by nannies was the norm, that having a stranger bring me up, because Mama never had a nanny for more than two weeks, my father liked them a little too much, was all normal.
They ensured I was fed, that my clothes met my mother’s requirements. They made sure to keep me locked in the basement if my mother decided I didn’t get a high enough grade at school, or if I’d smudged something in my picked out clothes.They ensured my food was salad only, that nothing, not even a bed was in my room if I’d spoke wrongly towards my mother.
I thought all that was normal because my brother got the same treatment until he learned quicker than me to basically be a statue and do everything our parents say, turning himself into their prodigy, but it wasn’t normal.
I joined the cheer team as soon as I hit high school, thinking maybe if I showed initiative she would be proud of me. Come game day, all of my teammates had their families cheering for them, showing them their support while I was alone, I only had one family member there, Granny. She always supported me because my uncle couldn’t make it due to work. Both are to this day unaware of how I’ve been treated and while Granny believes her son can do no wrong, my uncle believes I’m treated like a princess and I realized just how dysfunctional my family was.
My father is the vice president within the senator’s office, he’s right under Senator Smith, who, in my opinion, is a sleaze. If I told Dad that, he’d probably smack me. He works seven days a week and family appearances is important to him while my mother, a woman Granny has never supported, she’s the typical socialite and physical appearances are important to her and apparently the day my father married her, Granny cut him out of her will. Her fortune, which according to Mama is a lot and he won’t get a cent of it because Granny knew Mama just wanted wealth when she latched onto my father who according to Granny went from a fun, loving man to a dick – her words not mine, though I do agree with her, he is a dick.
I mean, what kind of father sits back and allows his wife to treat their daughter like crap?
“Young lady, you will look at your mother when she addresses you!” my father booms, and I flinch involuntarily, slowly look up, and lock eyes with Mama’s just as the door to the diningroom opens and my brother's voice enters the room, making me tense further.
Brady Williams is four years older than me, in college studying business, and a total douche.
“Sorry I’m late,” Brady says, but I don’t look his way. I avert my eyes back to my untouched salad seeing Mama’s whole attention is on her favorite child.
“My baby,” Mama says with glee, and I hear her chair scrape along the hardwood floor as she goes to greet her favorite child while Dad stays in his seat and greets, “Bruce, it’s good to see you.” And I swear, I stop breathing.
“It’s good to see you, sir. How’s the office?” Bruce replies in his slimy voice as my brother, and he sit beside my mother.
“It’s good,” Dad replies as Mama gushes, “Brady, sweetheart, your report, you had the whole college praising you.” But her voice sounds funny as the feeling like I’m underwater envelops me.
My palms sweat as I feel the air being sucked out of the room, and my salad blurs as they begin talking about how amazing my brother is while everything spins, Bruce’s presence making it difficult to breathe.
“You’re going to take it, and you are going to love it…” Bruce snarls in my ear as he holds me tightly, his arm wrapped around my waist, his other hand trying to pull my pajama pants down, and I squirm against him, tears soaking my cheeks.
“No,” I scream and buck while he chuckles and grabs my breast, squeezing it hard.
“You don’t have a choice, your dad has already promised your hand to me…” he whispers as he licks my neck, and my eyes widen in shock.
