Chapter 2

FLORENCE

After my dad was carted into a long black van, I stared for the longest time at the door, inwardly praying that this wasn’t real. That I would eventually wake up and all of this would be a distant memory, belonging only in the dream world. But, my stepmother’s voice sliced through my daze like a sharp knife and I turned to face her, my neck suddenly heavy for my head. 

“Make sure everywhere is sparkling clean,” she barked as if she was talking to a dog and Jenny shot me a mean stare as if daring me to challenge her mother’s authority. I dared not. I simply nodded, dragging my limbs off from the floor to the kitchen. Jenny met me halfway, landing me a hot slap. For a moment, I stood there, too stunned to speak, my ears ringing loudly. What did I do this time? 

“That is for being such a loud mouth. If it wasn’t for your stupid speech, those men wouldn’t have taken my dad away.” The way Jenny called him ‘my dad’ like she owned him, one would think he wasn't my dad as well. And I was again reminded of my place in the family–nothing but an outlet for their anger and frustrations. Jenny broke down in tears then, and my stepmother wrapped a hand around her shoulder, gently leading her away from the mess in the living room and up the stairs. Before they disappeared into the dark hallway, my stepmother paused, throwing me a stony stare that prompted my feet to move, and I took out the broom by the side of the kitchen door. As soon as I was alone, the tears pricking at my eyes spilled down my cheeks, and I slid to the ground, my knees weak. 

Each day that went by without my father’s presence in the house, was dreary and I sunk further and further into depression. My stepmother and Jenny didn’t make it any easier for me, they dished out orders, expecting it to be carried out the second they said them. I worked both day and night without batting an eyelid and it took a toll on my mental health. One day, while wiping the floors for the umpteenth time, I fell into a deep sleep, a soft snore escaping my lips. I was instantly awoken by something wet dripping on my face and I jerked away, my eyes widening. It was Jenny, holding a bowl of icy water. 

“Get up and work, or you’re going to have an empty dish for breakfast,” she spat out, her tone laced with disgust. 

I gulped, looking down at my feet. I was not supposed to stare into her eyes when she spoke. It was an unspoken rule. When she left, my heart sunk, a type of sorrow I’d never felt before filling my chest. I missed my mom. 

I was dusting down the only table left in the house when I felt a light brush of air against my ear. My head turned and my father was standing at the entrance, clad in the jeans and plain black t-shirt he’d been taken in. He looked older, rougher, but every bit the man I knew. I blinked, pulling out of my trance and I was about to go to him when my stepmother and Jenny both rushed to him, crushing him in a tight hug. 

They shed tears and when they eventually released him, he gave a strained smile, his cheeks pinched. But, the smile disappeared when his gaze landed on me. I tried to shrug it off as nothing, but during dinner, all of us seated at the table in the empty room, I could feel it–an invisible wall between my father and I. A wall of distance that even time couldn’t compress. The sounds of spoon and fork clanking against the plate filled the awkward silence and I looked down at the spaghetti I’d cooked with my sweat and tears, my appetite long gone. 

I swallowed, just as my father delivered those words that shattered my heart and wrecked my soul. “Florence will not be staying with us anymore.” 

At first, I pretended like I didn’t hear him, but the weight of his words settled deep in my chest, weighing my shoulders. What did he mean I wouldn’t be staying here anymore? Was he doing away with me because he finally wanted no reminders of Mom? Where was I going to go? 

My stepmother cleared her throat, raising a brow questioningly. 

“The only way my debts can be cleared is if she works for Dominique,” my father said to no one in particular. 

Jenny continued eating her food like my father hadn’t just said a word, and my face squeezed into a frown. I don’t know Dominique, but I already dislike him. Why did he want to take me away from my family? Why me? And why was it so easy for my father to do away with me? 

I was about to speak when I heard my stepmother sniggering and my mouth clamped shut. They didn’t care if I lived or died. No one gave a fuck about me–no one except my mom. But, she’d given up fighting when the claws of cancer gripped her too tightly. Dad had left her there to die and had remarried and I, automatically having nowhere else to go, had to live with them. 

“But, dad… please,” I said, finally finding my voice. I was close to tears and fighting hard to keep them at bay. “I don’t want to go. Don’t let them take me away. Please.” 

Jenny snickered at my display, but I paid her no mind, pressing on my father to see if he would change his mind. But, the look he gave me was stern as if he’d decided on it before coming home and my heart did a tiny gallop. I decided to try one last time. 

“Please, dad. I don’t want to..” The force of his palm striking my cheek just made me sit, transfixed, and a tear leaked from the corner of my eyes. My dad had slapped me. He freaking slapped me. 

“My decision is final. You caused all this and you have to pay.”