Cassandra
I went upstairs to my room, and even though they kept talking, I didn't hear them. I was drowning in such deep hatred that I couldn't make out a single word. My breathing was heavy, my body was shaking, and I still couldn't believe everything I'd said to them — but I didn't regret a single word. If anything, I think I could've said a lot more. They deserved to hear everything I'd been choking on for years, but for a first stand, I was proud of myself.
I quickly packed a medium suitcase with some clothes and personal hygiene items. I decided to leave this house, even knowing it was a reckless move since I had nowhere to go. Still, I knew I was doing the right thing. I couldn't stay here anymore. I just couldn't.
If only I'd managed to save something from my paycheck — but that crook of a mother stole my card and spent every penny I'd been saving up for a while. Cent by cent, she helped herself to my money, and by the time I noticed, it was too late.
Even so, without a dime to my name, I wasn't staying in this house one more minute. I knew she'd actually call Renan to come over and try to force me to apologize, and that was something I'd never do.
I might not have anything in this life, but I intended to keep my pride — even if it wasn't much after everything I'd been through. I wasn't going to humiliate myself over something I wasn't wrong about. Never.
I slung the suitcase across my back using the crossbody strap and jumped out the window. With the help of a tree near it, I made it safely to the ground.
I started walking with no direction, no idea where to go. Everything I'd devoted my whole life to was those two leeches and my sweet dad, who never got the chance to live a good life — just like I wouldn't if I stayed in that house. My father was just drained dry by those two, and I was headed down the same path: dying in a bed without having achieved a single dream.
I know my dad wasn't innocent — he wasn't some saint. He told me the whole story. But it's one of those things, you know? Everything can be explained, but nothing can be justified. What he did doesn't justify the way I'm treated, though it explains it a little, I guess — even though plenty of women go through the same thing and don't act like that.
My parents were forced into marriage. He'd had a fling with her, she got pregnant, and both my grandfathers made him marry Elisabeth even though he felt nothing for her.
They were young — not that that excuses what my father did, because I made that clear to him. I loved him, but I didn't agree with what he did, and I wasn't going to cover for him.
My father cheated on my mother while she was still pregnant, and she, instead of leaving him — or at least taking it out on him — stayed with him and took all her rage and frustration out on me instead. Especially when she saw every bit of affection he showed me and never showed her. But I had nothing to do with what happened. My father was a bastard to her, not me, and in the end I was the only one who suffered from her obsessive jealousy. She didn't even want me near my own dad.
Even knowing what he'd done, I could never stop loving him. I just couldn't. He was the only one who'd been by my side my whole life, who took care of me, protected me, and gave me unconditional love and affection.
I'd been walking for about half an hour when I finally stopped at a bus stop several blocks from home. I set my suitcase on the bench, lay down using it as a pillow, and ended up falling asleep right there. Even with the cold, I was bundled up enough that I wouldn't get hypothermia — at least I hoped not.
* * *
The next morning I woke up extremely early to the sound of cars that were already starting to fill the street that had been calm and quiet just a little while ago.
I got up and caught the next bus I saw heading toward my job.
When I got to the company — a small car dealership owned by Renan's father, which Renan ran — I went straight to the locker room, took a shower, brushed my teeth, and fixed my hair, trying to pretend I hadn't spent the night on a hard, freezing bus stop bench. But it wasn't like I was a stranger to that kind of thing. When I was younger and my dad had to travel for work, my mother would take advantage of his absence and put me outside as punishment. I'd sleep on the floor of the little playhouse Dad had built me — at least I had a roof over my head on the nights it rained hard. Because of situations like that, I developed a fear of the dark. I'm terrified of being alone in the dark. I know nothing's going to happen, but I'm still afraid — since my mother used to take advantage of it to beat me in the middle of the night, in pitch blackness. She usually hit me in less visible places, but that wasn't always the rule. A few times I passed out from how badly she beat me. The next day she'd tend to the wounds before Dad came home, and whenever a mark was still noticeable, she'd force me to say I fell down the stairs or something like that. My arm was broken twice, and I waited days before getting medical attention. The first time, the doctor had to re-break my arm because it had already started healing in the wrong position. It was one of the worst pains I've ever felt in my life.
Once I was ready, I went upstairs to Renan's office since I still worked for him.
Renan usually showed up late, which gave me time to prepare myself to face him — something I wasn't the least bit in the mood for.
I was going to quit today. I was ready to walk out even without another job lined up. I didn't even want to look at his face. But with leaving home the way I did, quitting without having something else lined up would be like shooting myself in the foot — after all, I didn't have a single cent. So I'd have to put up with that insufferable man at all costs.
When I got upstairs, I came face to face with Renan sitting at his desk with the door open. The second he saw me, he told me to come in and close the door.
I felt a certain fear of what was coming, but I did it without hesitating. It was extremely strange to see him there at that hour, which made me think things were worse than I'd imagined they'd be.
* * *
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