fic: Scared (No, not anymore)
Title: Scared (No, not anymore)
Author: Jenny aka silentscream821
Rating: R
Summary: She has no future, no plans, but to rid herself of the evil that is him.
Warnings: Implied abuse
Inspired by: Scared by Sam Bradley
Simulate control, because I’m scared.
I stared around at all the people, idly picking at the appetizers and taking great, large sips of their vodka and tonics. Some gave me awkward, sideways glances but turned away as quickly as I returned their stares. I gripped the smooth, cold glass beneath my fingers and felt the perspiration slip down my neck and beneath the clasp of my dress.
My façade was crumbling and I had a fucking audience.
A hand clamped down hard and fingers squeezed into my shoulder. I turned to see who was offering the greetings and congratulations this time and felt a shiver run down my arms as Uncle Bradley wiggled his bushy brows at me. “So you finally made it, huh?” he asked. “All that money and still you didn’t graduate with honors.” He grunted, his fingers never relenting their ruthless digging into my dress and against my clavicle. “Shame. Well, what are you planning to do with yourself now then?”
My face was burning with shame and I clamped my hands into fists to control the shaking of rage. “Not quite sure Uncle Bradley,” I said through gritted teeth. I glanced across the room and saw my father staring at me. He was in conversation with Aunt Tara but his eyes were beady and calculating. Don’t fuck this up. I could practically hear his voice in my ears. “Just have to see how things go.”
Uncle Bradley’s fingers released my shoulders and I held a sigh of relief. He grunted again, obviously displeased with my nonchalant response to my future.
“Oh yeah? Well my Tristan graduated last year from Yale and he’s already secured himself a very successful job at the firm where…” Uncle Bradley continued but I failed to follow him mentally. I glanced over to where Tristan was leaning against the bar, nursing his third, maybe fourth, whiskey sour in the past two hours. I wanted to laugh at the absurdity, to laugh right in Uncle Bradley’s face. Tristan may be secure but the bastard was far from happy. After all, he was living at home, with his overbearing parents, being paraded around at social parties for the sheer benefit of show-and-tell for his father and his fucking friends.
I shook my head and casually eased away from Uncle Bradley and his still-running mouth. I had seen the emptiness in Tristan’s eyes as he stood alone by the bar, shooting his father empty glares every ten minutes, but there was no way he could hate his parents the way I hated mine.
My mother stood by the buffet table and, for a moment, I considered going to her. She was speaking to a member of her volunteer organization, a smile stretched across her face despite the sweat that was gathering on her brow. I examined the long-sleeved, heavy cotton dress and wished, desperately, that my father had chosen another evening to lose his temper. My mother had originally planned on wearing a sleeveless fluffy top and a high-waisted skirt, one that would have flattered her slim figure. But of course, my father lost his temper with me and brought the violence out on her, and that explained the long sleeves and the impractical heavy cotton on this beautiful day.
I was almost across the room when, out of the corner of my eye, I caught my father making his way towards me. As always, I felt the fear slip up and choke in my throat, my stomach turning into a hollow pit, and the sweat on my neck turning cold.
He was the only one who could and probably would ever spark that reaction in me.
His hard, cold fingers closed tightly over my wrist, stopping me in my path.
“That was awfully rude of you to walk away from Uncle Bradley,” he said, a fake smile plastered over his face not matching the poison of his tone.
“He insulted me,” I said, wondering even as I spoke why I was defending myself. It made no difference.
My father made a tsk tsk noise and I practically shrank back into a 10 year old girl in front of him and everyone. “That’s not how I raised you,” he said. He lowered his voice as he took a step closer to me. If anyone had been looking, they would have considered my father possibly too close, to into my personal space. But, as usual, no one was looking and my father kept that fucking grin on his face as he lowered his lips to my ear.
I almost recoiled at the hot breath, the way it stung my skin, the memories of it making the bile rise in my throat.
“Will I have to scold you… later?” he asked.
I wrenched away from his grip and watched as the smile flickered on his face.
“Will I?” he repeated, this time far enough away to not look quite as suspicious.
“No,” I said softly. My fingers clenched so tight around my empty glass that I was afraid it might shatter.
He almost laughed then, his beady eyes darting around to see if anyone was even listening. “Oh, I think we’ll decide that when we get home later,” he said, his voice deep and husky and utterly revolting.
“No,” I repeated, harder this time. My hands were shaking and I fought for control amidst the party of people. “No, you won’t, because I’m not coming home.”
His stare sharpened and the smile began to fade. “Excuse me?”
“I’m not coming home. Not tonight. Not ever again,” I said.
He took a menacing step closer to me and I took a step back. “You ungrateful little…” His voice grew small as he nodded towards the Jamesons, that fake smile back on his face. He focused his attention back on me and lowered his voice even further. “After all of this celebration, for your graduation, this is how you’re going to repay me?”
I held myself as strong as I could, staring him straight in the eyes and returning his gaze with an icier one. “After all you’ve taken from me? All of those nights in my bed? The innocence you fucking stole?” I struggled to keep my voice quiet and steady. “I don’t owe you a fucking thing.”
A look of surprise fluttered across his features but he continued towards me, stalking. “Oh please,” he said, laughter bubbling in his deep voice quietly. “I never gave you anything you didn’t want.” The bile reached the top of my throat and the urge to heave hovered. “You and I both know that. Now come on,” he said, swinging his hand out towards my free one; I snatched it away. “I haven’t spent time with you since… last summer.”
“Never. Again.” If I grit my teeth harder, I would gnaw them to their roots.
His eyes narrowed and another tone slipped beneath his hard layer. “Please,” he said, practically begging. “I need you.”
I spun away from him then, the urge to heave my overpriced buffet-style graduation dinner all over his Gucci suit becoming too strong. I flew by my mother who eyed me with vague concern, past the families who came to impress my father and who didn’t even know my fucking name, right on towards the exit. I slipped a hand behind the bar on my way out, a bottle of Captain fitting too familiarly between my small fingers. I glanced up and saw Tristan staring at me, surprise on his face as he cast a glance back at my father.
“Come on,” I said to him, nodding towards the entrance to the party tent. “You need this too.”
He rushed to follow me, the smell of his expensive cologne clogging the air around us. He studied me for a moment, the way my fingers wrapped so tightly around the bottle that my knuckles were white, the way the tears pooled in the corners of my eyes, threatening to spill over but never quite making it.
“Clearly not as much as you,” he said quietly. His hand was soft and urgent but it found the shaking blades of my shoulders as he gently ushered me out and away from the hell circus that had become my life.
Ok, so this has no clear ending. But I had to stop it. I didn't think it was good. Sorry. My bad :/
Author: Jenny aka silentscream821
Rating: R
Summary: She has no future, no plans, but to rid herself of the evil that is him.
Warnings: Implied abuse
Inspired by: Scared by Sam Bradley
Click to viewSimulate control, because I’m scared.
I stared around at all the people, idly picking at the appetizers and taking great, large sips of their vodka and tonics. Some gave me awkward, sideways glances but turned away as quickly as I returned their stares. I gripped the smooth, cold glass beneath my fingers and felt the perspiration slip down my neck and beneath the clasp of my dress.
My façade was crumbling and I had a fucking audience.
A hand clamped down hard and fingers squeezed into my shoulder. I turned to see who was offering the greetings and congratulations this time and felt a shiver run down my arms as Uncle Bradley wiggled his bushy brows at me. “So you finally made it, huh?” he asked. “All that money and still you didn’t graduate with honors.” He grunted, his fingers never relenting their ruthless digging into my dress and against my clavicle. “Shame. Well, what are you planning to do with yourself now then?”
My face was burning with shame and I clamped my hands into fists to control the shaking of rage. “Not quite sure Uncle Bradley,” I said through gritted teeth. I glanced across the room and saw my father staring at me. He was in conversation with Aunt Tara but his eyes were beady and calculating. Don’t fuck this up. I could practically hear his voice in my ears. “Just have to see how things go.”
Uncle Bradley’s fingers released my shoulders and I held a sigh of relief. He grunted again, obviously displeased with my nonchalant response to my future.
“Oh yeah? Well my Tristan graduated last year from Yale and he’s already secured himself a very successful job at the firm where…” Uncle Bradley continued but I failed to follow him mentally. I glanced over to where Tristan was leaning against the bar, nursing his third, maybe fourth, whiskey sour in the past two hours. I wanted to laugh at the absurdity, to laugh right in Uncle Bradley’s face. Tristan may be secure but the bastard was far from happy. After all, he was living at home, with his overbearing parents, being paraded around at social parties for the sheer benefit of show-and-tell for his father and his fucking friends.
I shook my head and casually eased away from Uncle Bradley and his still-running mouth. I had seen the emptiness in Tristan’s eyes as he stood alone by the bar, shooting his father empty glares every ten minutes, but there was no way he could hate his parents the way I hated mine.
My mother stood by the buffet table and, for a moment, I considered going to her. She was speaking to a member of her volunteer organization, a smile stretched across her face despite the sweat that was gathering on her brow. I examined the long-sleeved, heavy cotton dress and wished, desperately, that my father had chosen another evening to lose his temper. My mother had originally planned on wearing a sleeveless fluffy top and a high-waisted skirt, one that would have flattered her slim figure. But of course, my father lost his temper with me and brought the violence out on her, and that explained the long sleeves and the impractical heavy cotton on this beautiful day.
I was almost across the room when, out of the corner of my eye, I caught my father making his way towards me. As always, I felt the fear slip up and choke in my throat, my stomach turning into a hollow pit, and the sweat on my neck turning cold.
He was the only one who could and probably would ever spark that reaction in me.
His hard, cold fingers closed tightly over my wrist, stopping me in my path.
“That was awfully rude of you to walk away from Uncle Bradley,” he said, a fake smile plastered over his face not matching the poison of his tone.
“He insulted me,” I said, wondering even as I spoke why I was defending myself. It made no difference.
My father made a tsk tsk noise and I practically shrank back into a 10 year old girl in front of him and everyone. “That’s not how I raised you,” he said. He lowered his voice as he took a step closer to me. If anyone had been looking, they would have considered my father possibly too close, to into my personal space. But, as usual, no one was looking and my father kept that fucking grin on his face as he lowered his lips to my ear.
I almost recoiled at the hot breath, the way it stung my skin, the memories of it making the bile rise in my throat.
“Will I have to scold you… later?” he asked.
I wrenched away from his grip and watched as the smile flickered on his face.
“Will I?” he repeated, this time far enough away to not look quite as suspicious.
“No,” I said softly. My fingers clenched so tight around my empty glass that I was afraid it might shatter.
He almost laughed then, his beady eyes darting around to see if anyone was even listening. “Oh, I think we’ll decide that when we get home later,” he said, his voice deep and husky and utterly revolting.
“No,” I repeated, harder this time. My hands were shaking and I fought for control amidst the party of people. “No, you won’t, because I’m not coming home.”
His stare sharpened and the smile began to fade. “Excuse me?”
“I’m not coming home. Not tonight. Not ever again,” I said.
He took a menacing step closer to me and I took a step back. “You ungrateful little…” His voice grew small as he nodded towards the Jamesons, that fake smile back on his face. He focused his attention back on me and lowered his voice even further. “After all of this celebration, for your graduation, this is how you’re going to repay me?”
I held myself as strong as I could, staring him straight in the eyes and returning his gaze with an icier one. “After all you’ve taken from me? All of those nights in my bed? The innocence you fucking stole?” I struggled to keep my voice quiet and steady. “I don’t owe you a fucking thing.”
A look of surprise fluttered across his features but he continued towards me, stalking. “Oh please,” he said, laughter bubbling in his deep voice quietly. “I never gave you anything you didn’t want.” The bile reached the top of my throat and the urge to heave hovered. “You and I both know that. Now come on,” he said, swinging his hand out towards my free one; I snatched it away. “I haven’t spent time with you since… last summer.”
“Never. Again.” If I grit my teeth harder, I would gnaw them to their roots.
His eyes narrowed and another tone slipped beneath his hard layer. “Please,” he said, practically begging. “I need you.”
I spun away from him then, the urge to heave my overpriced buffet-style graduation dinner all over his Gucci suit becoming too strong. I flew by my mother who eyed me with vague concern, past the families who came to impress my father and who didn’t even know my fucking name, right on towards the exit. I slipped a hand behind the bar on my way out, a bottle of Captain fitting too familiarly between my small fingers. I glanced up and saw Tristan staring at me, surprise on his face as he cast a glance back at my father.
“Come on,” I said to him, nodding towards the entrance to the party tent. “You need this too.”
He rushed to follow me, the smell of his expensive cologne clogging the air around us. He studied me for a moment, the way my fingers wrapped so tightly around the bottle that my knuckles were white, the way the tears pooled in the corners of my eyes, threatening to spill over but never quite making it.
“Clearly not as much as you,” he said quietly. His hand was soft and urgent but it found the shaking blades of my shoulders as he gently ushered me out and away from the hell circus that had become my life.
Ok, so this has no clear ending. But I had to stop it. I didn't think it was good. Sorry. My bad :/