My Sanctuary
1373 Words
JACK MILLER
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My cheek stung.
Heck! All of me stung.
My head was practically splitting into thousands of pieces as I yelled and got yelled at by the woman standing in a place she shouldn't have gotten close to.
This was my haven.
My sanctuary.
And even though I couldn't recall how I got home or got into the only room that I could call home in this huge mansion, I would still protect the last pieces of Emma that I had left, including that sky-blue duvet with black dots all over it.
It was Emma’s.
Everything here was Emma’s.
This was her room and I have always made sure it stayed clean because my haven should be clean and Emma’s place in the mansion deserved that much from her negligent brother.
And this woman? This nosy woman was in my haven… she didn't belong here and I would remove her even if I have to be extreme. Be a jerk like she enjoyed calling me.
“You must be dying to have another look at my body.” The professor scoffed, shaking her head like she was some know-it-all judgemental—
To hèll with whatever she was.
All I needed was my sister’s duvet and kicking this intruding thief out.
That wasn't too much to ask.
“Can we stop talking about your body? I won't want to make comments that would kill you, Professor. Just give me the duvet and we all can go about our day like you didn't spend the night in a room that doesn't belong to you—”
“I apologize for spending the night in your bedroom, Jàckass but— no. I take back that apology because you don't deserve it. I wouldn't have entered this room if I wasn't permitted to. How do I know it is yours and do you even think about—”
Again, she was acting like a know-it-all.
She had assumed this was my room but it wasn't.
It was my sanctuary. My Emma’s room.
I was about to give the woman a huge piece of my mind so I could be free of her and tend to myself. I mean, my head was hurting, and my balls still hadn't recovered from the kick she delivered to them like she didn't understand the biology of a man’s body.
So much for being a biology professor.
However, my comeback was interrupted when a sharp knock bounced off the door, announcing that someone was here.
“Miss Kiara?” Edna's voice came after the knock and I couldn't stop myself from yanking the door open to lash out at Edna as well.
How could she?
How could anyone let this woman make use of Emma’s room?
They knew better than to let anyone in here.
“Care to tell me why there is a stranger in a room I specifically asked no one to enter?” I seethed as I asked Edna with no hint of respect in my voice.
I was that angry.
Edna wasn't just the housekeeper. She was a part of the Miller family even though she wasn't a Miller. She has been living in the mansion since my mom hired her after she got married to Steve— her killer…
“I apologize, J,” Edna responded calmly, using the nickname she and Emma used to call me. “There was no other room available and she needed to clean up after the mess you created in the dining room. I couldn't arrange a room and clean up your mess at the same time so I assumed you wouldn't mind her staying in Emma’s room.”
“Of course, I mind!” I snapped at Edna and my professor inhaled sharply, making me turn my gaze to her.
But she was already looking at me with pity in her eyes.
I hated that.
I preferred it when she looked at me with anger and hate.
Pity wasn't what I needed from her.
She should be sorry.
And to change the look she was giving me, I blurted, “Are you ready to apologize and drop the duvet?”
Thankfully, the pitiful look she was giving me flatter and was quickly replaced with disbelief. My nosy professor scoffed, “You are an àss through and through.”
That wasn't new.
“This might be a special place for you but you should also understand that I didn't mean to— you know what?” She did that again. Asking me questions when I cared the least. “You can have your duvet. You might just have to strip it off me if you want it so bad because I won't be letting this go until I am decent if you know what that word even means.”
“Don't make me put you in your place!” I gritted. “I will strip—”
“That won't be necessary, J.” Edna cut in, revealing a bag from behind her. “I brought you a dress, Miss Kiara. Zora is expecting you in the living room and Mr Miller wants you there as well, J.”
Edna handed the bag to Kiara after passing instructions to us both.
“I don't want to be there. You can tell him that, Edna and you should get out.” I said to Edna and hissed the last part to Kiara whose face hardened.
“Do I have to tell you to excuse me?” Kiara asked sternly.
“Why would I excuse you?” I retorted, folding my arms around my chest as I held back the comment that would break her.
“Because she needs privacy to change, J. Please leave the room.” Edna uttered in response.
“If she needs privacy, she should get it somewhere else. Perhaps in a room, I don't clean myself and keep in shape because— she can go to hèll.” I concluded because I could feel my emotions spiraling again.
Not to forget my sore balls and splitting head.
“I believe that means she can take the duvet out of the room so she can change in the room I spent the entire night preparing for her..” Edna said to me, obviously trying to make me feel guilty. “Come with me, Miss Kiara.”
“Thank you, Edna.” Kiara or my professor– I still don't know what to call her- she answered politely.
I would have dwelled on the fact that she was about to take Emma’s duvet out of the room and probably destroy it but my money shifted to another issue that had me asking, “Why did you spend the entire night preparing a room for her, Edna?”
“You might have to ask your father in the living room, Jack. He is waiting for you—”
“Just tell me, Edna. Please.” I pleaded knowing that Edna could be stubborn.
“I am simply following instructions. Ask Mr. Steve—” Edna began.
However, Kiara smirked as she cut in, “It might have something to do with me moving into the mansion to be your sister.”
“What!” I exclaimed.
Kiara simply shrugged and left the room with Emma’s duvet and Edna, leaving me with pain and questions.
She is moving in?
I barge out of Emma’s room, heading to the living room to ask my so-called dad the question that haunted me the most.
I found my dad lying on the couch with his head on his plaything’s lap while she played me his hair and laughed like she had no worries.
I overlooked their disgusting affection and blurted, “She is moving in?”
My dad took one look at me, mouthing, “Good to see that you aren't dead, son. I believe you should thank me for saving your àss before asking questions—”
Oh… he brought me home?
Did he also drop me in the same bed with his Plaything’s daughter?
That aside, I asked again, “She is moving in?”
And my dad smiled, “Possibly. Do you have a problem with that?”
Hell yes!
- Writer
