21. Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty
Trix
I'm startled awake by the sound of glass shattering, and I leap out of bed, chest heaving and eyes wide as I stare at the closed bedroom door.
Shit. He's awake.
The room is dark, with no sunlight shining through the small window above the bed, so I know it's still the middle of the night.
As noise continues to echo through the trailer, rattling my heart inside my chest, I slowly grab my phone from the bed, check the time and see it's only three in the morning.
Knowing I can't stay here any longer—not that I'd want to anyway—I carefully move around, then open the wardrobe.
Pulling tops off of hangers, I shove them into my handbag, then move to the drawers.
I definitely can't pack all of my stuff, but as long as I can grab a few changes of clothes, I'll be fine. I can come back for the rest when he does another disappearing act in a couple of weeks.
Gripping the rounded handle, I tug on the drawer, instantly regretting doing so when it makes a creaking sound that seems to reverberate through the now silent trailer.
My eyes flick to the door. My body remains frozen while my heart pounds wildly behind my ribcage.
"Connie?"
My heart stops, my lashes shutter, and my stomach sinks at the sound of my father calling out my mother's name.
The sound of his footsteps comes next, and I snatch a pair of shorts, leggings, and underwear before quickly stuffing them into my bag with shaking hands.
Glancing back at the bed, specifically the pillow I stuffed my money into last night, my stomach twists.
Diving across the mattress, I shove my hand into the pillowcase and grab the envelope just as the door flies open.
Tossing myself onto my back, money securely tucked behind me, I stare at the man before me, watching as the sorrow in his dark green eyes morphs into anger and disdain at the sight of me.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" he slurs, swaying slightly on his feet.
Brilliant. He's still intoxicated.
Scrambling backward, I don't stop until my back is pressed firmly against the wall behind the bed, putting as much distance between us as I can.
He smacks his hands against the wall, eyes blazing, nostrils flaring.
"I asked you a question, girl!" he shouts, spittle flying from his lips. "Why are you in my home?"
Despite the fear coursing through my body, I can't stop myself from scoffing.
"This is my home too!"
Releasing a humorless laugh, he shakes his head and takes a step toward the bed.
Sweat beads along my hairline, and my fingers tremble where they're still tightly gripping the envelope of money.
"This was never your home, Beatrix," he spits, placing his fisted hands on the edge of the bed as he leans closer to me, sneering. "Get. Out."
It's been five years, and yet he's the exact same man he used to be.
My chin wobbles as I stare into his hate-filled eyes, but I nod, slide off the bed with the straps of my bag in one hand and the other twisted behind my back.
He stands at the same time as I do, towering over me.
Hesitantly, I step toward him, press my back against the wall and keep my eyes trained on the floor.
He shuffles to the side, giving me enough space to squeeze past him, and I take a deep breath before doing so.
My nose wrinkles and my stomach quivers when I catch a whiff of his stench.
The smell of stale alcohol makes my stomach turn.
As soon as I'm past him, at the doorway of the bedroom, I turn quickly, swinging my arm around from the back, carefully attempting to shove the envelope I've been hiding in my bag, but his fingers wrap around my bicep, digging into my skin as he yanks me backward.
He snatches the money from my grip, then releases me, pushing me away from him.
"That's mine!" I protest, jumping forward and reaching for it.
His hand swipes through the air, forcefully connecting with the side of my face, and sending my head crashing into the wall of the narrow hallway.
"Not anymore it isn't," he hisses, tossing the money over his shoulder and wedging himself in the doorway so there's no way around him. "About time you paid what you owe."
Fury shoots through me, from his words and from the painful throbbing of my cheek.
"What I owe?" I shout. "I don't owe you shit!"
"You owe me for everything!" he bellows as he steps forward with a finger pointed in my face.
I stumble backward, keeping some distance between us.
"I had to struggle for years because I was burdened with you!" he spits with narrowed eyes and harmful words that pierce through my thin armor. "I didn't want, nor did I ask, for the extra mouth to feed."
Tears shining and chin trembling, I shake my head.
"All you ever did was cause me pain." His lips curl in disgust. "The moment I lost Connie, was the moment you meant nothing to me."
Tears trickle down my cheeks, and tremors run through my body.
He steps forward.
I step back.
"The day you finally left this place was the happiest day of my life," he says.
My heart splinters inside my chest.
I may fear him, and also hate him, but he's still my father.
Although most of my memories of him are awful, there are a few good ones that poke their way through sometimes, from when my mom was still alive, before she got ill and everything went to shit.
He wasn't always a nasty person.
But once he knew he was losing the love of his life, and turned to drugs and alcohol, he became a completely different person.
Someone bitter and cruel. A man who only cared about himself and didn't care who he hurt—emotionally, physically, or mentally.
He grabs onto my arms and forces me backward, surprisingly steady and firm for a man who's currently in an inebriated state.
When we reach the front door, he kicks it open, turns me toward it, then shoves me outside.
I stumble down the steps, tripping over the last one and falling forward onto the graveled floor, hissing when the sharp stones dig into the palms of my hands.
The door slams behind me, and I jump as the noise vibrates through my body.
My stomach lurches, and I double over as the contents of my stomach force their way up my throat and onto the ground in front of me.
"Pip?"
Through watery eyes, I look across the road and see Wanda walking toward me.
"Oh, dear," she whispers as she crouches down and rubs her hand along my back.
Wiping my hand across my mouth, I squeeze my eyes shut.
"My dad's home," I mutter.
She sighs, wraps her arms around me, and pulls me into her chest.
Relaxing into her embrace, I allow the remainder of the tears swimming in my eyes to fall down my cheeks.
She presses a kiss to the top of my head, then draws away, squeezing the tops of my arms.
"Let's get you inside and cleaned up," she says.
The Sunday morning sunlight streams through the windows of Wanda's trailer, burning my eyes and making me cringe. It's only 10 a.m. but after the last few hours, it feels like forever ago I was leaving the clubhouse in Reeve's car.
After splashing water on my face, I brush my teeth with a spare toothbrush, then eat some toast.
Wanda went back to bed, leaving me on her sofa with a pillow and a blanket. I should've tried to get a few more hours of sleep, but my brain wouldn't shut off.
Memories from my childhood were plaguing my mind.
Images of my father's face when he used to beat me and curse me out for being a painful reminder of my mother swam around my mind, torturing me.
Flashes of being sat on this very sofa, shivering and crying while Wanda cleaned any cuts I had.
The reminders of being relieved every time he'd disappear for weeks, even though it meant I'd have to fend for myself and babysit children in the trailer park to get money for food.
That was my life, from the ripe age of eight up until I turned fifteen and met Emery.
She was my saving grace, along with her father.
I used to hide out at their house whenever my father was home, and then when he'd disappear, Michael would stock the fridge and cupboards full so I could focus on school instead of having to worry about how to survive.
Emery knows all the nitty-gritty details of my life. It took me almost a year to open up to her about it, but eventually, I told her everything.
Her father, however, doesn't know about it all.
It's not that I don't trust him, because I do, but he's a cop.
If he knew everything, then I'm pretty sure my dad would be behind bars, and although I know that's what he deserves, I can't stomach the thought of it.
I know he's evil, and I don't expect him to change, but I can't help but hope someday, he'll make a change and possibly become the father he once was.
My phone buzzes on the table and Emery's face lights up the screen.
Swiping my thumb across the surface, I lift it to my ear, and smile when her voice filters through the speaker.
"Morning, you sexy bitch! I'm on my way to get coffee, because I know you'll curse me out if I turn up without some, but I should be there in twenty minutes!"
I chuckle, lean back against the sofa and close my eyes.
"I'll be ready by then," I tell her. "I'll meet you at the entrance, save you from having to drive all the way in."
I don't want her knowing my dad's already made a reappearance, and I'm really not in the mood to answer any questions.
"Okay. I was thinking we could meet up with Liam for a few hours before we go over to Dad's?"
"Yeah, that's fine. I'll see you in a bit."
Ending the call, I sigh and stare up at the yellowed ceiling for a moment, enjoying the silence and comfort surrounding me before I stand up and grab my things.
I have no idea what I'm going to do or where I'm going to stay now, but I push it to the back of my mind to worry about later.
I've already spent hours dwelling on the shitty situation I've once again found myself in, and I don't want to spend another second thinking about it.
Quietly slipping out of Wanda's trailer, not wanting to wake her up, I spare a single glance across the narrow road, misty eyes coasting over the darkened trailer I used to call home before steeling my spine and turning away from it and walking away.
Trudging through the trailer park, I rub my hands over my bleary eyes and yawn loudly, exhausted from the lack of sleep I've had the past few days.
Reaching the entrance a few minutes later, I lean against the sign and open up my bag, staring at the few items of clothes I'd thrown inside as I sigh.
Shoving the items out of the way, I grab my purse, unzipping it to see what cash I have inside and internally groan at the measly forty dollars I find inside.
Shaking my head, I close it, then zip up my bag just as Emery's car comes around the corner.
I should've left the envelope in my bag when I got home last night, but I couldn't trust that I'd wake up to him coming into the bedroom. I've learnt from previous mistakes not to keep large amounts of cash anywhere easily accessible for my father.
He's convinced I'm indebted to him, merely just for existing, even though, for most of my life, he never actually took care of me, and I had to fend for myself.
Emery honks her horn as she pulls up, and I cringe as the sound rings through my skull.
Opening the door, I swing my bag onto the backseat, then slide into the passenger side and paint a smile on my face when her assessing eyes move my way.
"You look like shit, babe."
"Thanks." I scoff, shaking my head with a smile on my face. "I haven't had the best sleep lately."
"Probably steamy thoughts of those hot biker boys keeping you awake at night, huh?"
I roll my eyes, then click my seatbelt into place as she turns the car around and heads back into town.
My gaze drifts over to the blonde beside me as she turns the volume up and starts belting out the lyrics of the song currently playing, and my whole body relaxes instantly.
A day with Emery is exactly what I need to forget about all of my problems before I go back to work tomorrow morning.