SAVAGE LOVE

This story is for readers 18 years and upwards due to sexually explicit content. It also deals with issues that some may find difficult to read and may cause distress. This includes drug abuse, overdose, suicide, s****l violence, kidnap, and murder. That being said, I hope you enjoy this story of enemies to lovers, second chance romance. Three – Ways that I will have my revenge. It’s been a long time coming. Too long. Two – People you have wronged and you will pay. One – Way this is going to end, and that will be in my favor. Zero – f***s will be given when you finally crash and burn. I woke up with a startling jolt to hear the crashing and banging of something breaking downstairs. Faint, muffled cries and hushed but angry voices sounded in the distance. I shouldn’t leave my bed. I knew Mum would be angry if I did. Six-year-old little girls weren’t supposed to be up and lurking about in the middle of the night. But another smash made me jump up and spring out of my bed. I darted towards my door and creaked it open, holding my breath in case I’d alerted any of the monsters to my being awake. I didn’t want them coming upstairs to get me. Moving my head from side to side, I peered down the hallway, not sure what I expected to find. Maybe robbers charging up the stairs? Or wild animals prowling, ready to kill us all? Mummy and Daddy’s room was the farthest away from mine. Luckily, my grumpy big brother Franklyn’s bedroom was next door. I ran out into the hallway and flung his door open. Franklyn shot upright in his bed when he heard me and used the cuss word I knew Mum would ground him for if she’d heard it. “f**k, Bianca! What’re you doing in my room? Get out! Now!” I just stood staring at him, fixed to the spot. Hadn’t he heard the noises too? Wasn’t he at least a little bit worried about our safety? I knew my fourteen-year-old brother hated me. I was a tittle-tattle, a baby. I messed up his fun and annoyed the hell out of him. But surely, in some way, he actually cared about me? He couldn’t be all bad, could he? Another crash from downstairs followed by a pained cry made me fling the door shut and run over to Franklyn’s bed. “What part of getting out don’t you understand, brat?” Franklyn pulled his covers up tight around his bare chest. Was he embarrassed about me seeing him? I couldn’t care less what pajama bottoms he chose to wear in bed. He was my brother, and usually, I only wanted to fling rocks at his head. But right then, I needed to be close to him to feel safe. “Can I sleep in here with you?” I asked boldly. It was really more of a statement than a request. I went climbing onto the bed and snuggle under the covers with him. He wasn’t Mum and Dad, but he was the next best thing. Maybe he would go and find them and they could check out what was going on downstairs. Or maybe Franklyn would protect me himself. He had started to lift weights after school, and his bony arms had gotten more muscle on them this summer. I think he was trying to impress a girl, or that’s what Mum said when I teased him about it. “What the hell, Bianca? No, you can’t. Get out!” He pushed me down off his bed and gave me his, ‘Don’t mess with me’ stare. I’d usually argue, but I knew I wasn’t gonna win this time. “There’s someone downstairs. I’m scared.” I tried to let him see how vulnerable I felt in that moment. Appeal to his inner protectiveness, but it wasn’t working. “There’s no one downstairs. You probably just had a bad dream,” he snapped back in irritation. “But I heard things, smashing and crying and stuff. I’m scared, Franklyn. Please let me stay with you.” He threw his covers off and walked over to his bedroom door, holding it open for me to leave. “See? Quiet. No one is downstairs, Bianca. The alarms would’ve gone off if there was. Go back to your room. Put on one of your night lights and play one of your music boxes to help you go back to sleep. You’ve just had a bad dream.” He folded his arms stubbornly; he wasn’t budging. Even I knew not to press him further, and I always pushed too far. “Fine,” I bit back, stomping towards him. “If I get stolen away in the night then it’s your fault, Franklyn. You’re a horrible brother!” I stamped my feet on purpose as I left his room, and he slammed his door behind me. I huffed in annoyance as I glanced back at the closed door. I wished I had an older sister. Why did I get stuck with Franklyn, the mardy bum, as Mum called him when he went into one of his notorious moods. A big sister would’ve cuddled me back to sleep, played with my hair, and sang songs to make me feel safe. Not him. He was all shouty, stubborn moodiness. I hated boys, especially grumpy fourteen-year-olds. I turned to walk back to my room, but I heard another loud crash and then a low, painful cry. “Why? Why?” I’d recognize that voice anywhere; it was Mummy. I crept over to the top of the staircase. Through the gaps in the rails, I could see one of our vases smashed on the tiled floor. Picture frames that’d stood on the side table were broken and littered across the floor. Mummy was curled up like a baby, holding her tummy as she cried. Was she hurt? I went running down the stairs to see if she was okay, but was stopped by the sound of my Daddy’s voice. “There was never going to be a happy ending, Hanna. What did you expect?” He sounded angry and tired. I peered around the staircase to see where he was. I was surprised to see my strong, unshakeable Daddy slumped against the wall. His knees were bent and his arms rested on top of them. He was wringing his hands together as if he wanted to break something. Had he smashed our things? Mummy hiccupped and then dragged herself into a sitting position, lashing out her arms in anger as she did. Not Daddy’s smash-up party then. Hers, maybe? She scratched at her legs, making a weird animal sound like she was hurt or wounded. I didn’t know what to do. I could go back to fetch Franklyn, but then I couldn’t seem to tear myself away. “I don’t know what I expected, but it sure as f**k wasn’t this.” My eyes bugged out of my head. I’d never heard Mummy use that cuss word before. That was a bad word. I waited for Daddy to tell her off, but he didn’t. “He was ill, Hanna. This is just-” “Just what? Just f****d up and wrong, that’s what. I need to leave. Tomorrow, I’m taking Bianca and we’re leaving.” I covered my mouth to stop my own cry from escaping. What was she saying? Why did we have to leave? Were we all leaving? What was wrong with the house? “Please, Hanna… please. I’m begging you… don’t leave. Don’t take Bianca away from me.” Daddy sounded so sad. I couldn’t stop a stray tear from trickling down my cheek as I listened to him. I wanted to go to him. Hug him and tell him I’d never leave him. He was my Daddy. I loved him most of all. “I can’t stay here, Dave. Not after all this.” Daddy’s face screwed up, like someone had stuck a needle into his arm. I knew that look because it’s the look I’d made after having my injections a few months ago. He was hurting. “I’m not asking for anything from you, Hanna. I know things between us are… well, they’re broken. But maybe in time, we can fix this? Just please don’t leave. I’ll move into the spare room. I’ll let you live your own life, but please let the children stay here together… with us. Don’t destroy the family over this.” “Family?” she barked back at him. “What family? We haven’t been a real family for years now.” Hadn’t we? What were we then, if we weren’t a real family? Mummy was confusing me. I was surprised Daddy was being so calm. I’d have told her off or grounded her if I was him. She was acting really weird. “We are family, we always will be. You’re all I’ve got. You, Franklyn, and Bianca. You’re my world.” Mummy laughed. Why was that funny? “The kids are your world. Me? I left your world a long time ago. I’m not yours anymore, Dave.” Daddy started to cry silent, heart-breaking tears, as Mummy just sat there looking at him. Why wasn’t she comforting him? Daddy was sad. It was her job to hold him and make it all better. Why wasn’t she his? I was frowning so deeply that my forehead hurt. “You’re not he now either though, are you?” Daddy sniffed quietly and ran his hands over his face. “We can find peace here, with the children. We can make this work. We have to. Something good has to come out of this sad, sorry, f****d up mess.” “But I’m pregnant, Dave.” Mummy started sobbing again, big, fat tears and noisy grunts. I gasped. Pregnant? As in having a baby pregnant? Was I going to be a big sister? This was awesome news! Why were they both so miserable? My gasp must’ve broken through their little bubble, as Daddy began to climb the stairs to where I was crouching down. He looked wary as if he was afraid to find out what I’d heard. “What’re you doing awake this late, baby girl? You need to be in bed getting your beauty sleep.” “But I can’t sleep, and I heard you and Mummy fighting.” He smiled, but his eyes told me he wanted to cry like he was dying inside. “I’m scared, Daddy. Why are you fighting?”