Every single part of me was telling me to stop. In fact, it puzzles me to this day why I didn't just call it off right there and then; I knew it was bad for me… I could literally feel myself being screwed up in the head by the whole situation. It surprised me, in a sickening way, how quickly I'd changed my mind about everything. Of course, I still loved her. But it was more of an addictive lust that I felt for her, rather than what I'd always expected out of love. I mean, could I really stand there and say I could see a future with Darcey? No. Did I want to have children, grow old and live with her? Not at all. She hardly had the emotional capacity to deal with herself, let alone me and a family. She was beautiful, yes, but she wasn't what I needed. And I doubted very strongly that she ever could be.
By now, my skin had become numb against the scorching hot water; I could barely feel her fingertips trailing up and down my body. My mind was somewhere else. I felt a gush of guild pour over me… I'd accidentally made this girl fall in love with me. Did she expect me to stay with her forever? Sure, I had never made any promises to do so, but I had no real idea what was going on in her head. Perhaps this whole time she'd been having all this sex with me to convince me to stay… or was that mean of me to think that? I was confused. Very confused. And suddenly something happened that made my confusion turn into a disgusting shade of fear.
Bang. The sound of a door slamming shut, coming from downstairs. Darcey had heard it too, and we stopped dead in our movements, her legs wrapped around me with her back up against the shower wall. We were meant to be alone, weren't we? Her parents were in Scotland… weren't they?
"Darcey! Darcey darling where are you? What…" The voice trailed off. It was without a doubt her mother; I'd recognise that fake loving voice anywhere. The water suddenly felt cold, everything felt cold. We were stuck; both totally naked in a tiny en suit with nowhere to hide. A lump formed in my throat, I had to hold back the urge to start choking and coughing. I'm not going to lie; I was terrified. I'd never seen her step-dad, but I had seen the bruises on Darcey and they did not look pretty.
"Where are you? What's going on! Darcey!" Her mother was now screaming, heavy footsteps on the stairs told us we had little time to think of an escape. But as I racked my brains for an answer, Darcey leapt out of the shower, grabbed a towel and exited the bathroom, slamming the doors shut behind her. Instinctively, I switched the shower off. And there I stood, waiting. Waiting for something to happen.
"What's going on Darcey, why aren't you practicing piano? You know your schedule Darcey, always piano practice every evening from 7pm to 8:30pm! And here you are, showering or whatever it is you do in there. It's a good job me and your father-"
"He's not my dad." Darcey cut in, her voice sounding bolder than I've ever heard.
"Whatever Darcey! You are so rude! It's a good job me and Michael decided to come home early; just look at you! You've got makeup all over yourself; so un-lady like! And will you just look at the state of this place; clothes absolutely everywhere… your Dolce and Gabbana playsuit is just strewn over there, how could yo-" Again, her mother's voice trailed off. But this time, it seemed dangerous. "What… is this?" She said, almost growling with disgust. My heart sunk. I knew exactly what it was she'd found.
"Men's boxers? And… oh, Darcey. Used condoms! Where is he?" She yelled, banging around and from the sounds of things, smashing things up.
"He's gone, I promise mum, he's gone, he's go-"
"WHERE IS HE!" Her mother was screaming now; slight signs of insanity showing up like green mould on a seemingly fresh piece of bread. I stayed silent behind the door, not wanting to prove that Darcey was lying to her mother by telling her I'd gone. Even though I knew her mother would not rest until she'd found me.
"Michael!" She roared, time and time again until I could hear him enter the room. "Your revolting whore of a step-daughter has been up here the entire time we've been away, with her legs wide open and a boy between them!"
There was a pause. Then a loud crack. Then a thud. He'd hit Darcey, and he'd hit her hard. I bit back the tears as the sounds of Darcey whimpering leaked through the door; it was literally tearing me apart. My decision to stay hidden was dissolving rapidly as I could hear him beating her, heartlessly and mindlessly. And the second I heard her scream, I couldn't take it anymore.
Flinging the door open, my eyes were exposed to a sight which will be tattooed into my brain for years to come; Darcey sprawled on the floor covered in grazes and even small wounds, with 'Michael's' foot buried in her stomach. It took a second for him to process the fact that I'd come out, and he continued to kick her with no restriction on force.
"Get the fuck away from her." I growled, loud enough for everyone in the room to hear and realize my presence. He stopped, looked up and turned his head to me slowly, like something out of a horror film. He wasn't exactly a huge guy, but he looked rough and thoroughly fed up with life. His arms were plastered in grungy tattoos, and the size of his muscles proved that it didn't matter how tall you were… if you worked out, you could still be hench.
"What did you say to me?" He grumbled, thick Scottish accent rolling out of his mouth.
"I said get. The fuck. Away from Darcey. Now." I was surprising myself with courage. Usually when confronted with an ex-convict lookalike, I'd put my hands up and walk off. But with Darcey on the floor beside us, I couldn't just walk away.
"You." Her mother said, the word spat out of her mouth like a tiny bit of vomit. "You're that boy from the bus stop. You make me sick; to think that you could corrupt my little girl like that… you deserve nothing more than to die." Her eyes were twitching ever-so slightly as she spoke. It made me wonder if mental instability ran in the family.
"Well babe, we'll see what his pretty boy's got, won't we?" He smirked, turning away from her and facing me.
"So what have you got?" I snarled, looking him up and down crossing my arms. "'Cause I'm already waiting."
If you want to hear where I got my inspiration from for the latter part of this chapter, go listen to 'What Have You Got' by Dubba Jonny. That is, if you love a bit of Dubstep like I do. Again, reviews and/or comments are beyond appreciated. Thanks! Enna.