My Tattooed Nemesis

Jacqueline's POV

I stepped in further, hoping I would hear their conversation a lot more clearly, but I still did not. Just mumbled words that seemed secretive.

I clutched onto my traveling bag tightly. I had a bad feeling about their whispers. Aunt Janelle and her daughter had always been the lousy type.

I peeped into the thin space left by the door ajar, they sat on the bed, their lips formed soft mutterings. I was sure they were hiding something, or worse… planning something.

I was forced to make a sound—an awkward cough that stole their attention. They turned to me, Kara's eyes glimmered with fear, while my aunt's filled with surprise.

“I am back,” I said, trying to make the scene less awkward than it was, but I only worsened it.

Kara's fear shifted into fake excitement, I could see her through her pretense as she gritted her teeth.

She hated me, we stopped pretending about that when she humiliated me at a party two years ago, right in front of Alex, my nemesis.

The image of the day was still vivid inside my head. The way I trembled under the spotlight, the heavy sound of mockery that almost tore me apart, and my nemesis, staring right at me like that was my end.

“You didn't inform me before coming,” Janelle said, getting up to her feet. Her blue gown swept the floor. She looked almost elegant.

“Sorry ma'am…”

“To hell with your sorry.” She didn't let me speak. She always does that. 

“Take your bag and leave.” Her voice was icy. Her eyes moved to my right hand that was wrapped around the traveling bag.

She didn't mean it, did she? I can't take my bag and leave, this was my father’s house.

“Are we doing it now, mum?” Kara asked.

“Yes, we've had enough of her,” Janelle replied, referring to me like I wasn't standing before her.

“Aunt…” I called.

“Leave! Your father didn't leave anything for you. The house is under my name now.” A wicked grin appeared on her face.

And then I saw it, a few sheets piled up into a document sitting flatly on the bed. That was what they were mumbling about.

Kara also stood, her shorts barely covered her thighs, and her crop top was of no help either. She picked up the documents slowly, smiling with disdain.

“Ohh sweet cousin, the house is under our name now. You might wanna take a look.” She stretched the documents to me in a way that's anything but polite.

I didn't have to take it from her, I could see their name in bold prints after the house address. 

My limbs grew numb. I blinked thoroughly, and I gripped my traveling bag more tightly. Does this mean I am homeless now?

“Out!” Janelle’s sharp voice tore through the air.

I smiled bitterly as I turned to leave. I wanted to walk faster, or even run, but I couldn't, my legs were betraying me. I crawled out of the room.

I moved to the direction of my room, which actually wasn't my room anymore. 

“Where do you think you are going?” Kara asked.

“I want to pack my things.”

“Your things?” She spat. “You do not have anything here Jac. Since the house is under our name, everything in here belongs to us.”

“Vanish before I call the cops,” Janelle added.

I shut my eyes close, holding back everything burning through me. My knuckles turned white.

I was one step away from breaking. 

I thought this would be a casual summer holiday, with their non-stop complaints, humiliation and total degradation. They had always treated me like the most worthless and disgusting thing on planet earth.

I stopped walking when I got to the door. I glanced over my shoulder to take one last look at the place I once called home. It held good, and yet traumatizing memories.

My aunt and her daughter glared with foolish, victorious smugs on their faces.

Too bad they didn't know the truth. They haven't won, they only have the higher bid now. The last bidder always gets the goodies.

The air felt poisonous, I had to stop moving. I was one step away from collapsing out of tiredness. I had walked miles. The traveling bag got heavier in my fingers, and my legs were stone-hard inside my shoes.

The highway stretched ahead, it was dark already, but the dimly lit street lamps sparked hope within me.

This was the worst.

I took my phone out of my back pocket, and I placed a call on Jayden.

It rang once, twice, thrice… till it disconnected.

No response.

Who was I kidding thinking Jayden would respond to my call by this time of the night? He must be fast asleep.

‘Just two years more Jacqueline,’ I muttered to myself.

I was still catching my breath when I heard a loud rumble of an engine cutting through the silence. 

A motorbike slowed before me, the headlights flashed into my eyes. I had to turn my face so I wouldn't go blind. 

The rider killed the engine. I turned to take a proper look at him. He slipped out of the bike, his helmet under one arm.

I couldn't see his face, he was standing under the shadows. He moved closer.

His arms slowly came into view. Tattoos? I recognized them.

And when I finally saw his face, I wanted to punch a rock. I gulped hard.

Alexander Ellias. I would identify him anywhere, anytime. I hadn't seen him in two years. He looked slightly older, his dyed silver hair was packed in a bun, but a few naughty strands fell on his face. 

He was wearing a black, armless, faded leather jacket that battled with the cold.

He stood still like he was studying me.

“You look like you’re about to eat pavement,” he said, his voice low and cold.

He glanced at the bag in my hand. “You’ve been walking a long time.”

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. My throat was too dry.

He unhooked a water bottle from his bike and held it out. 

“Here. Drink first. Then tell me where you’re trying to get to, little Jackie.”

Right. Little Jackie. He still calls me that. One of the reasons I resent him.

I stared at the bottle in his hands for a few seconds before taking it from him. 

I untwisted the cap and I finished the bottle in one long gulp.

“Someone would have died if I didn't show up,” he snickered.

“Thanks,” I said, but deep down I didn't mean it.

I handed him back the empty bottle. He didn't take it. He folded his arms across his chest, and rested on his bike like nothing mattered.

‘Wrong move,’ I let the bottle slip off my fingers, it made a soft thud as it hit the ground.

Alex got on his bike, he wore his helmet, and he pressed down on his engine.

Wait… Is he leaving me? Alone? In the dark? I have nowhere to go.

“Are you leaving?” I asked.

“What does it look like I am doing?” He didn't even turn his face to me. He settled his two hands on his bike handle.

If he leaves, I am doomed.

“Don't leave. Help me.”

I hated that I was saying these things. But I was out of choices here.

He released his grip on the bike handle.

His gaze traveled slowly down my frame and back up. When his eyes finally met mine again, he muttered: “I'd help you. But that's only if you play by my rules.”

His rules? All I need is a ride to somewhere safe. God damn it!