Blurred Souls (Editing)

Chapter 10

Out of all the things that are in my 'this will never happen' list and let me tell you---it includes running away with Harry Styles to a cabin in nowhere, or befriending Taylor Swift and witnessing the beauty that's called her mastermind--- this was definitely not supposed to happen.

Just why would this happen and in front of the monster and his soon-to-be monstress?

"What the hell are you doing here? " I voiced my thoughts, frowning.

"I'm just checking on my friend," His voice had a cut of sarcasm in it and smirked as he said the word friend.

"Angel, respect your classmate and speak politely." David hissed, followed by a forced smile when his gaze met Melissa's.

Run away, you stupid girl. Run away before he ruins you like he has done to me.

Giving one of the biggest yet fakest smiles, I managed to say through grinded teeth:"oh don't feel awkward. Consider this your home too, it sure lovely family vibes, don't you think dad?"

"Definitely, sweetheart. Your friends are all welcome to visit us whenever they want."

That's cute considering the only living being that I've actually enjoying talking to is my neighbor's dog.

"Come on, son. " My stepfather gestured Alex to the living room. "As my Angel said, consider this your home too."

I had the sudden urge to throw up. Hearing him turn all sentimental on me made me loathe every single endearment out there.

Alex sat awkwardly, looking at the pictures on the wall, which were professional pictures taken of David. What an unexpected thing from a narcissist.

"So I," Alex began, rubbing his neck a little, "I was sent here instead of the class president because she's sick. The papers signed by the parents were supposed to be submitted by today and Angel wasn't there today,"

"Elaborate, son,"

Just kill me, why don't you?

"He wants to know Angel's coming to the senior trip,"

"No," David replied, firmely, too quickly.

"Is there a reason for your quick refusal, dad?" I asked with a forced smile.

"I said no," he repeated, there was a change in his voice that made me think of a television comedian doing an advertisement for the royal whice cream."End of discussion."

"It's alright." I lied, glimpsing at Alex for a second before straightening up.

"Oh, it was nice seeing you Mr.Smith." Alex stood up, glaring down at me.

"It's David." I hissed, suddenly disgusted by him, his name, his face.

"Gee don't kill me." Blake chuckled, unhumerosly.

Maybe he was feeling awkward? maybe.

I glared at him, "Kay bye." he murmured, disappearing through the front door.

After hearing the door shut, I exploded, " WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!"

"Stop using this tone at me." he emphasized each word.

"And what if I don't want to?" I retorted, a hand on my hip.

"STOP THE BOTH OF YOU!" A voice yelled from behind us.

We both ignored her and continued our bickering.

"I'm so embarrassed of you, I wish you died with your mum." he spoke, raucously.

That rat he doesn't know how much it hurts," Son of a canine." After a second, I added," oh wait I bet you don't know what it means."

I remember at the funeral how much I was shattered, especially the hate I was receiving after my mother's death.

At the funeral a woman said to me," Your mother is a saint." I remember this woman's appearance quite well, though not her name.White curls, roughed cheeks, dainty features. A tearful whisper. I immediately disliked her scowled.

With the raise of anger came another emotion, pain.

"Before you judge me or my mum take a good look at you."

"YOU LITTLE SHIT."

I didn't know which is worse, the blare tone in his voice or the hatred glare in his eyes.

"Dude can I borrow your face for a few days? My arse is on holiday." I laughed at my own joke. No one appreciates my humour these days.

Anger burned in his blood, I could see it, if looks could kill, I'd be six feet underneath."Melissa, out now."

Melissa stood between us, a hand on his chest."She's your daughter, treat her like one."

She picked up her bag, and left.

He didn't waste any second, I felt the stinging across my cheek before it even registers with my eyes that his hand is coming for my face. It scorches my face in more ways than one; in both physical and mental. I couldn't get used to this, it's like trying to fix a broken doll. He has slapped me across the face.

I fell like I've been reduced to nothing.

My hand flied to my cheeks, I glared at him, preventing the tears I've been previously been holding back.

" I told you a hundred times, don't disrespect your dad."

"The day I'll respect you is the day you'll act like a father."

I dart out of the den and into my bedroom, slamming the door shut, and making sure the door knob is closed.

I tried to hold it in, but I cried my eyes out.

When someone cries so hard that it hurt their throat, it is out of frustration or knowing that no matter what you can do or attempt to do can change the situation.

When you feel like you need to cry, when you want to just get it out, relieve some of the pressure from the inside - that is true pain. Because no matter how hard you try or how bad you want to, you can't.

That pain just stays in place. Then, if you are lucky, one small tear may escape from those eyes that water constantly. That one tear, that tiny, salty, droplet of moisture is a means of escape. Although it's just a small tear, it is the heaviest thing in the world. And it doesn't do a damn thing to fix anything.

Suddenly, I'm gasping for breathe, the tears coming so fast and hard that it's so hard to stop them. They have their own mind now, falling down my cheeks like rivers, meeting in the corner of my lips. The problem is I don't even know why I'm crying. Probably because I've wished deep inside he could've cared about maybe, a little, was that too much to ask?

He even wished I was dead, what kind of a step-father was he? Maybe he's right, maybe I should've died instead of my mum......