England – One month later
Chapter 4 - Levana
“Stop this nonsense, Eliana. You will do as I say.”
I walked into the house, to my mother’s raised voice. That was a first. I was always the one at the receiving end of her verbal diarrhea, so this confused me. Frowning, I entered the kitchen. My sister sat at the breakfast nook, her large brown eyes, red-rimmed with tears. My mother stood with her back to the kitchen sink, her expression steeped in irritation I knew so well. The same color as my sister’s, her eyes flicked between Eliana and me
“Please, mum, don’t make me do this,” my sister cried, her English accent a little more pronounced than my attempt at sounding English.
I was an American wiseass, as Grace commonly called me. “What’s going on?” I asked, looking at Eli.
Her bottom lip trembled before she could speak. “Mum wants me to—”
“Go wash up for dinner, Levana,” my mother cut her off.
I opened my mouth to say something, caught my mother’s reproachful look, and walked away with a frustrated grunt. When it came to Eliana, the only time I found out significant stuff was when she shared them with me. Other than that, my mother didn’t think me important enough to discuss anything. As I slipped off my blazer and trudged upstairs, I wondered what was going on. I’d never seen Eliana react this way to my mother before.
In my room, I tossed my laptop bag on my bed, hung my blazer in the closet, and quickly exchanged my school clothes for sweats and a tank then headed for the bathroom. I’d just washed my face when the door opened, and Eli slipped inside. She leaned back against the closed door and clutched her stomach. I could see she was struggling to keep her tears at bay.
“What’s up.” I grabbed a towel and patted my face. Her tears were quick to fall then. She swiped at them with an irritated grunt. Hanging the towel back on the rack, I moved to stand in front of her. “What’s wrong, Eli?”
“Mum...” her voice broke. I gave her a minute to calm down. “Mum prostituted me to a group of men—”
“What?” I shrieked.
“Shh. She’ll hear.” Eli’s hands flailed to quieten me.
My heart rate was having none of that, it galvanized me into action. Grabbing my sister’s arm, I opened the door and dragged her into our bedroom. First, I hurried to our computer and as soon as it powered to life, I put on some random music. Michael Jackson’sBeat Itfilled the room before I pulled Eli toward the tiny balcony outside our window. If our mother walked in, she’d think we were dancing like ususal.
“What do you mean she prostituted you?” I asked.
