Poor Arabella

The sound of the front door slamming shut half startled Arabella out of her short-lived sleep. She could feel the eyebags weighing underneath her eyes from not getting more than four hours of sleep, for three days in a row now.

A mild yawn escaped her lips as she shuffled to sit up in bed, running slender fingers through her messy brown hair in an attempt to get rid of some remnants of food particles from last night clung to it.

That man had tossed his plate at her during his latest drunken episode. At this point - it was getting tiring… and this was the story of Arabella Tudor every day.

She was just a nineteen-year-old brunette who had lost her parents at the tender age of seven in a fatal car accident, and since then her life had begun to go off track.

With nowhere else to go, she was pushed onto their closest relative - her uncle Grayson. At first, the poor little girl was overjoyed that someone had opened their door for her, but she was met with disappointment all to early.

If only she’d guessed the hell that would be awaiting within the walls of his abode, she might have rather wished to stay in an orphanage when the opportunity had presented itself.

A light sigh escaped her lips as her feets came in contact with the cold floorboards.

The only thing she could be grateful for at this point was having a roof over her head and a personal bed, regardless of how torn up or stiff it had become after over a decade of use - She couldn’t truly bring herself to hate it.

Just how she couldn’t throw it away - because she knew exactly how it felt to have no one, to not really belong anywhere. That and the fact that she’d not be getting replacement anytime soon.

Her right hand moved to rub the new bruised up her left shoulder which slightly stung on making contact with her fingertips, and her whole body ached so move but not compared to how it’d felt last night after he hit her.

It took more effort than usual to get up as her weak legs made their way toward the door, casually twisting the doorknob.

What lay ahead was the living room in its usual messy state. Whenever her uncle got home drunk, he turned the whole place upside down and got extra violent towards the innocent girl.

It had already been over a year since she’d left high school and yet remained unable to get a simple job, and since the old man had given up on training her, she had no future plans to attend a university.

Speaking of her uncle… He was an oversized man in his late fifties, who already had gray hairs lined across his temples and between other hairs.

As usual, he always expected her to clean up after his drunken rampage which included breaking things, kicking over furniture, and simply leaving them like that because he didn't care. But if Arabella was to break even a single plate - she’d get hit!

With furrowed brows, she dragged her feet towards the kitchen to take up a broom and dirt packer. Her tummy growled twice during the fifteen-minute cleaning session before she opened the front door, to dust out the rug.

“Arabella!” Mrs Elizabeth the nearby neighborhood waved with a friendly smile from across the hallway. She had a handful of groceries in her hand and seemed to be struggling to find her key, Could you please come over here and help me get this?”

Arabella nodded once before moving to help her take some load off her hands. Over the years, she could hardly remember much about her parents, but often wondered if they’d be as kind as Mrs Elizabeth if they never had that car accident.

Would she be in a university by now surrounded by friends and loved ones?

Maybe. Maybe not.

She finally unlocked the door for both of them to go in, “Thanks a lot, dearie”.

The lady smiled once again from under her spectacles. The old woman seemed to be around the same age as Mr. Grayson but their personalities were a sharp contrast.

Arabella didn’t know much about the Mr Elizabeth either, but she had never really bothered to ask in case she also had a tragic story behind her predicament.

“You’re welcome.” She turned to leave after dropping the bags on the kitchen island but the elderly woman stopped her by the shoulder.

Arabella turned back to catch the sympathetic look on her face. She must have noticed the minor bruises up her shoulder as she’d not worn a sleeved dress after waking up.

She watched the young girl’s eyes narrow defensively before gradually taking her hand away, “Why don’t you stay for breakfast?”.

There was no reason to decline as there’d be nothing exciting to do after returning to her apartment. “Sure”.

They ended up having a small chat - which mainly involved Mrs. Elizabeth inquiring about her well-being.

But Arabella declined saying she was alright to avoid becoming a burden, and because she knew nothing could be done to help her situation.

What if this woman before her turned out to be like her uncle? Nice at first then over time… changes completely?

Her house was quite nice though, despite it being the same build as every other house on this floor, it somehow seemed bigger. The interior had a variety of antique collectibles and even a shelf full of knitting equipment, small carvings, and books.

It had her wondering how she’d end up in the future. If she managed to live long enough at least.

Would she still be alone…?

Time seemed to go by faster when one spent it in the company of others, and when she finally looked up at the clock - it was, “Three O’clock already!”.Arabella jumped off the sofa in a daze.

The elderly woman had been trying to teach her how to knit for the past half an hour, and had also narrated stories from the books she often read while doing so.

“Thanks for today, but I have to go ma’am.” She bowed slightly before turning to leave.

“Wait.” Mrs Elizabeth took her time to get up before searching through the contents of her purse. “Here.” She handed some dollar bills over to Arabella who had a questioning look in her eyes, “For spending time with this old woman today. Use that to buy some sweets.” She smiled.

“Thanks a lot”. A genuine smile formed on Arabella’s lips.

Her eyes lit up at the sight of the young girl who’d finally smiled. “You should smile more often, you’re such a pretty girl”.

Her cheeks reddened at those words. ‘When last had she received such a compliment? She had almost forgotten what she even looked like’. She thought to herself, waving at the old woman before leaving through the front door.

Regardless of how often Arabella was starved, or how slender she seemed - she was still curvy in the right places and on a good day, her face was a sight to behold.

Unfortunately, she hardly ever had the opportunity to meet men, and those in high school had probably kept their distance due to how haggard she often looked with her ruffled hair and patched clothes.

Those days could add up to her bad memories., and shaking her head she discarded the thoughts ruefully as she intended to focus on the chores she had ahead of her.

She spent the next few hours scrubbing the floors and cleaning the whole house till the pungent smell of alcohol was gone.

It was almost seven O’clock when she finally retired to take her shower for that day, and she still did it in a rush as she knew her tormentor would be back any moment and luckily enough - He finally returned when she’d already changed into something and was done bathing.

“Arabella!”. His croaky voice called out, “Where are the foodstuff I bought? Did you eat them?”.

She hurriedly rushed out to the kitchen to point out the right cupboard as he’d been obviously drunk, “It’s in the cupboard to your left”. At times she wondered why she even remained in this house of suffering…

But a voice in her head always said, ‘Because you have nowhere else to go’.

She ended up making a single dinner for him and while she was about to return to my room, he started a drunk ramble.

“I’ve invested a lot of money in you, Arabella you know right?” He paused to gulp down half the bottle of beer beside his meal of potatoes and egg sauce, “Ahhh”. He let out a deep sigh and she’d never seen him look so pleased while being drunk.

Was it just the cooking or had he finally won one of those gambling games?

“Yes, thank you…. uncle.” The statement came out through clenched teeth, the words tasting bitter on her lips.

He raised the bottle up in the air before nodding in pride, “Good girl, but now I have a way you can pay me back. And you don’t have to even work your ass off, my daughter.” He slapped his belly in joy, before dropping the bottle to make the last sentence.

His daughter? What kind of sordid endearment was that? Arabella gulped waiting for what nonsense he might spout, the wheels in her heard already churning.

“Arabella, Arabella…” He drawled, looking at her with a mischievous glint in his eyes, that made her shiver.

“Yes uncle.”

“I’ve found a guy to take you off my hands.”