Ruined By My Stepbrother

Chapter one; living hell

“You think I don't know where you go at night?” Sophia Denver, my so-called mother, screamed at the top of her lungs.

“You think I'm stupid?” she spat, taking a menacing step forward. Strands of her red hair clung to the sweat on her face.

I dropped my gaze to the cracked tile floor, not wanting to push her any further. Instead, I counted the thin dark lines running through the tiles the way other girls counted money.

I learned early in life that it was better to be silent than argue. It cost me nothing. If I let her rant long enough, eventually she'd tire herself out and shut the hell up.

“I'm working,” I finally said, my voice calm and flat, because giving her more words only gave her more weapons.

“Well, it's not enough. You're just too ugly to attract men with hard cash.” Sophia stepped even closer. God, she smelled awful. Cheap perfume mixed with stale alcohol and cigarettes. It was enough to turn my stomach.

“I know you don't care if I sell my body for a few dollars,” I shot back, finally tired of swallowing every insult. “But if you'd at least act like a mother and provide for this household, I wouldn't be…”

I had barely finished speaking when she moved. Her hand flew back before crashing against my cheek with a sharp crack.

My head snapped to the side, and the metallic taste of blood flooded my tongue where my teeth cut into the inside of my mouth. I wasn't surprised. This wasn't the first time she'd hit me after all.

"Do you think I enjoy asking you for help?" Sophia snapped.

"I fed you. I clothed you. I sacrificed everything for you.”

Her voice cracked just enough to sound believable.

"And this is how you repay me?”

“You are useless,” she hissed. Her eyes burned with fury as her fingers tangled into my hair, gripping the dark strands so tight my scalp stung.

“If you tried harder, we wouldn't be drowning like this!” she screamed, yanking harder until pain shot through my head.

I pressed my foot firmly into the floor and leaned against the counter to steady myself, refusing to cry because I knew tears only made things worse.

“I'm trying,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

But she only raised her knee and drove it hard into my ribs.

“Did you know what he said to me today?” she snarled, pulling my hair even harder until a sharp yelp tore from my throat.

I didn't need her to say his name to know who she meant.

Victor Devereaux.

That name had been haunting this house for almost a year now. Every fight, every scream, every bruise somehow traced back to him. As if I was the one who forced her to take a loan from him.

I stumbled forward and crashed hard against the tiles and pain burst through my body. But she didn't stop. Another slap landed between my shoulders before her fist slammed into my back.

My ribs. My spine. Every place that could be hidden beneath clothes. That's how strategic she was. How cruel.

I didn't fight back. I just curled in on myself and threw my hands over my face the way boxers did in the ring when they knew the next hit was coming.

I wanted to scream at her. Tell her none of this was my fault. She was the one who borrowed money from Victor and gambled every last cent away while we survived on scraps and cheap liquor swallowed the rest.

I wanted to ask why I had to pay for the debts she accumulated. Why I had to suffer for her sins.

Finally, she stopped and flung her hair back as she stood up, while I remained on the floor curled up in pain.

“Trying isn’t enough,” Sophia spat. “If that man decides to collect in other ways, don’t think I won’t let him.”

For a moment, I imagined grabbing the knife on the counter and teaching her a goddamn lesson. But I couldn’t afford to get blood on my hands. So instead, I stood up and brushed the dust off my body while tears gathered at the back of my eyes.

“I’m going to work,” I said, already heading out of the kitchen.

“Wear more makeup,” Sophia snapped. “You look like a monster and no one pays for that. You’ll scare all the men away,” she added with a loud sigh.

My hands clenched at my sides as I walked like a robot toward my room.

For a moment I imagined becoming rich enough to buy this house just so I could bulldoze it.

Inside, I stared at my reflection in the mirror and all I could see was a stranger living in my body.

Tears finally spilled down my cheeks and I hated what I saw.

The girl staring back at me looked exhausted.

For one terrible second, I heard Sophia's voice in my head.

Monster.

I hurriedly wiped my tears and noticed a faint red mark blooming on my cheek.

Great. One more bruise to cover up.

My fingers reached for the familiar bag where all my makeup was kept.

Sophia had bought it for me sometime back. She said I needed to look pretty, but I knew she just wanted me to use it to hide my bruises.

And so I did. Every day for the past year.

Sophia was the worst mother any child could ever dream of having. After my father died, I knew life would become a living hell. He had been my hope.

Dad used to tell me I could be anything. Sophia told me I was nothing and eventually stopped fending for me after high school.

So I did whatever I could to take care of myself and save enough money to run away from her dirty claws one day.

Three thousand, four hundred and twenty dollars.

That was how much I'd managed to save so far. The rest has been taken by my mother.

Not enough to escape. Not yet.

But every dollar I tucked away was another step toward freedom.

After applying makeup, I changed into jeans and an oversized hoodie, becoming Ashley Denver, café girl. The version the world could tolerate.

Dolly, who worked in a stripping club, would come later.

Just as I was about to leave the house, my phone buzzed in my hand.

It was from Gigi, my best friend and co-worker at the club.

“Girl, where are you? I have news.” Gigi texted.

Another message came through immediately.

"A man just offered five thousand dollars for a private dance."

I stared at the screen.

Then my phone buzzed again.

"And he specifically asked for you.”