Array
(
[text] =>

Because of You - Kelly Clarkson

Just a little warning guys. This chapter is as intense as it'll ever get. Just roll with it. Love you!

🎻

I'd never been inside the prestigious Hamilton hotel, owned by Kris's father. Joined by my friends and Kari's date Sage, I walked inside and was instantly in awe. It was like stepping into a mixture of different cities; I saw London and Paris, maybe even Rome. It was all just a unique combination of wealth and prosperity, to be honest.

"The interior design in this place just called me poor," Sage whined.

"I think I heard it too," I agreed.

"Guys, come on! We have to get to the ballroom!" Mae squealed. She was so excited that Homecoming was at a hotel this year, which was all thanks to Corbyn refusing to settle for anything less. Probably his most redeemable quality; I wish I had such tenacity. Unfortunately, she never found the courage to ask Tiana to the dance, but I silently hoped that Tiana was here without a date. Despite that, when Mae knew I was attending, she rushed to my house for some last minute shopping with my sister Emery.

And boy, did I underestimate her abilities. Paired with Emery's fashion sense, Mae had me dazzling in all white and an off-white faux fur shawl. She'd slicked my hair back, meticulously and carefully weaving fake frost into it. Last but not least, my face was adorned with a winged, sparkling white mask. I looked like a Snow King.

"Is Kris meeting you inside?" Kari asked me as we approached the ballroom. It definitely wasn't hard to miss, with the bursting sound of life and music filling the halls that led to it.

"Yeah, he said he'd be at the bottom of the staircase."

"Ooh, now this will be an entrance!" Mae giggled. Her costuming screamed that she was a pixie, and with her big eyes and even bigger personality, nothing could fit her more. Her starry highlight was exaggerated, and rainbow glitter rested over her neck and chest. She told me that she added that as an appreciation of her sexuality.

While stepping into the hotel was like entering another city, the ballroom welcomed us to another time period. It was like medieval meets modern, with touches of gold and a host of expensive candle chandeliers.

"Is this all gonna be your boyfriend's one day? Because if so, I want a free room here for life," Kari esteemed. I chuckled, as we descended the stairs. I looked forward and caught sight of him immediately.

Kris was befittingly dressed like a prince, just without a crown. He waited patiently at the end of the stairs as promised, and as soon as our gaze met he grinned as if his world was fulfilled.

I practically flew down the rest of the way, into his arms.

"Oh, you're so beautiful!" He said into my ear so I could hear him over the music. We pulled away so we could admire each other. "It doesn't look like you came up with such a stunning costume in only less than a day."

"It's all thanks to Mae and Emery," I credited before laughing. "You look effortlessly charming, no surprise there."

We linked arms and moved toward the dance floor. "I'm glad I came. I feel like tonight will be worth it."

"It will be," he agreed, kissing my cheek. "Dance with me?"

I beamed, my eyes bright and happy. "I'd like nothing more."

~Corbyn~

I stared and stared at my midnight black fur cloak that swept the floor, grasping it tighter by the second.

"I can't do it," I said aloud to Nico who I had on speaker over the phone. "I know everyone's waiting for me; they're expecting me."

"It's a muted, lusterless dance for the privileged teens who are only showing their faces to uphold their meaningless social standings." He snorted a bit.

"Yet you crashed my party all those weeks ago and slithered your way through my room door."

"I had a purpose," he reminded. "Look, if you wanna go to Homecoming, go. It's just not my cup of tea. Not that I drink tea or anything; I much prefer some poison and be done with it."

I grunted and tossed the cloak to the far side of my room before plopping onto the silk sheets of my king-sized bed with a pout. "But if you're not there, what's the point?"

He chuckle was dark and enticing. "If I wormed my way this far into your heart, I'm afraid your soul is lost."

I couldn't stop my smile. "We'd be lost together then. Doesn't sound too bad. Maybe you could finally introduce me to that father of yours."

"He'd be proud."

I laughed before my door bust open to reveal my sister in a creative genie costume. Her hair was tied up into a ponytail with billowing curls and extensions flowing down to her butt. "Why aren't you ready?" she squeaked when she saw that I was wearing my heather grey joggers, socks, and a lilac sweatshirt.

"I'm not going, genius."

Her eyes went wide as I rendered her bemused. "And you tell me this now?!"

I smirked. "Oh, don't look so befuddled, big sister. Being joined at the hip is merely an expression; you can't take it so literally." I could hear a very faint snicker and I knew Nico was entertained by our conversation.

"Fine. I'll remember that next time you need me to have your back." She stood akimbo. "Besides, all I meant was that it'd be less fun without you. I thought we could make a show-stopping entrance and rule the night. Let's not forget everyone's anticipating an epic performance from you; they're gonna be so disappointed."

"Well, disappointment only stems from having expectations." I shrugged. "Go. Have fun without me. Make a few people miserable then tell me all about it."

She bit the inside of her cheek then rolled her eyes. "Hmph. I'll just go with our inner circle. If it's boring, I'll be back within the hour. Also, tell Mom I'm taking Eden to his friend's house for the night."

I waved her off then focused my attention on Nico. "I wish you were here."

"Right?" he agreed. "I'd so kill for one of your mom's smoothies."

"I could make you one," I offered, lifting my legs to my chest and hugging them. "Would you like that?"

"Who am I to say no?" His voice was light and playful. I nodded even though he couldn't see.

"I'll come to you instead. Believe it or not, I've been looking forward to the dance for a while but hanging out with you can't hurt. I'm gonna head downstairs and make the smoothies, then I'll see you in a bit."

"Sounds perfect."

As it turned out, there was a hitch in our plans. I took the elevator to the first floor and was almost to the kitchen when my dad returned from work--or wherever he'd been, then his eyes locked with mine. I stopped in my tracks, trying to fade into the shadows of the hallway and keeping my gaze to the floor.

"Corbyn," he acknowledged, setting down his briefcase. "I just saw Ivy leave for the dance. You aren't going with her?" It seemed I'd disappointed yet another person. Of course he'd want me out the house; he always did. If he could get rid of me altogether, I'd have been dead sixteen years ago.

"No," I responded, far too quietly. I cleared my throat and shook my head. "I don't feel up to it."

"Why? After all your bragging about conjuring the idea to hold it at the Hamilton's, how spectacular your costume and performance would be..." He moved closer to me, his eyes cold and calculating. "What changed?"

"My mind, obviously," I quipped. I'd always walked on thin ice with my dad, but there were many times where I found myself taunting him and testing his patience despite my fear of him. It only got me into more trouble later on, but I wouldn't quit.

My response seemed to amuse him though, and a ghostly smile settled on his face. "I see." He sucked in a breath, standing tall. "Where's your mother?"

"An educated guess, but maybe in the kitchen staring warily at the stove as it boils water in a kettle. Probably scratching away at her wrists feverishly as her mind ventures into dark memories of her treacherous past." I squinted. "You know, the usual."

His lips pressed together for a few seconds before he shot out his hand to grab my neck. I gasped as his thumb pressed into a vein. "You're no different from your vile, psychotic father. You mock the only person who cares about you without a shred of empathy." He let me go and I heaved in a breath, reaching to hold my neck. The pain brought tears to my eyes as I glared at him. He seemed to relax a bit, a quick switch from the menacing expression he wore just a second ago.

"I have a gift for you." He picked up his briefcase then nodded his head toward the kitchen. "Follow me."

My blood ran cold. He had a gift for me... which could only mean one thing: this cycle of emotional torment wasn't over in the slightest.

My feet moved without my conscious permission, and I could feel a momentary disconnect that I experienced every so often. It was like my mind became suspended in its own realm. I couldn't focus on what was happening around me, I didn't know how much time was passing by, and the voices of my parents were muffled beside me.

"Corbyn. Son?" My mother gently shook me by my shoulder and I snapped out of my daze.

"Huh? What?" I looked at her with addled, wide eyes.

"Don't you like it?"

My eyebrows furrowed. What was she talking about? "Like what?" I inquired.

"My gift," Dad answered, drawing my attention. I faced him, only to see that he was holding out a gift box that he'd opened to reveal a pair of very expensive wrist watches. One was slimmer, and the other held more diamonds. "They're rose gold, your favorite."

My eyes studied them carefully, full of distrust. They were beautiful, I couldn't lie about that. I slowly reached for them, then I remembered the circumstance, and dropped my hand.

"No," I refused. "I don't want them."

"Corbyn-" Mom started to scold.

"I don't want them!" I reiterated.

"They're yours," my dad insisted, as his eyes implored me to accept his offering. "Take them."

Tears pricked the inner corners of my eyes, but I blinked them away before taking the box.

"What do you say?" Mom reminded me. I gazed down at the watches, both admiring their beauty and hating them for the message they were meant to send.

The first gift Dad had given me was a grand gesture: a piano. I was only six at the time, already aware of my passion for music and singing. The piano meant the world to me when he presented it, and it had completely erased the pain and confusion he'd caused me after beating me senseless only four days prior.

I remembered my mother bending down to my height to tickle me and whisper, "what do you say, baby? Say thank you!"

So I did, and I meant it. I was so... grateful.

I was a fool. A six year old, innocent, naive little fool.

I lifted my head to lock eyes with my dad, a shadow of a smile on my face as I absently caressed the suede box. "Thank you," I whispered.

🎻🎻🎻

I was sitting quietly in the living room, examining my gift and weighing its worth in my mind. An hour may have passed as I either toyed with the box, tried on the watches, or just stared at them.

I heard the front door open and close, and I assumed Ivy came back from the dance. I wondered how her time had been spent before realizing I didn't care.

Maybe half an hour later, my thoughts drifted to Nico which only made my heart heavier. He'd been waiting for me to show up, and he probably realized by now that I wasn't going to.

"You're still sitting here," a soft voice gravitated to me as the sofa cushion dipped. Mom planted herself next to me, immediately holding my hand.

I drew in a deep breath as I unlatched the slimmer watch from my wrist. When she realized I wasn't going to say anything, she spoke again. "They look perfect on you. What's the matter; why didn't you want them at first?"

A short, tiny laugh fled my lips, though it sounded more like a bitter scoff. "I figured it out a long time ago. What these gifts really mean."

"I don't understand."

I swiftly turned my head to glare at her. "Open your eyes. Can't you see it's a trick? It always has been. Every single time he hurts me, he gives me a gift. And it worked for a while." I nodded. "When I was young, I knew that whenever he beat me until I was bruised and bloody, I'd get a present not too long after. I'd forgive him. I'd tell myself, he can't be so bad. Maybe he's just guilty; he regrets it. This is his way of saying sorry." My cheeks burned with anger, and my nose flared as I tried to keep my tears at bay. "But Mr. Starr doesn't say sorry. These gifts aren't products of remorse; they serve as a reminder that the only reason I'm here, the only reason I have his name is by his grace and generosity. His mercy. He's telling me that I don't have anything without him..." I squinted at her. "And you do absolutely nothing while that smug look rests on his face after I say thank you."

My mom's face sagged with sorrow, her bottom lip quivering for a second. "Cor-"

"No," I interrupted. "It worked. The material things, having so much at my disposal... doesn't really spark my interest anymore." I tossed the box of watches to the ground. "These little trinkets and gadgets and toys... it's child's play. I'm not a child anymore. That, mommy dearest, is why I didn't want the damned gift."

I couldn't decide if she was about to cry, but the breath she inhaled was unsteady. "Your dad-"

"Mr. Starr!" I corrected, standing up and facing her. "Don't you sit there and try to defend him either! My real father may have raped you, but he's easily the lesser of two evils! If you despised me so much, you should've left me at his doorstep," I spat.

Her body trembled as her eyes glazed over, a flurry of emotions passing through her all at once. "I have always loved you!" she cried.

"Do I look like someone who's always been loved?!" I yelled. "I'm covered in bruises, my ribs ache, my lungs burn and my mind is screaming! Still, you're deluded enough to claim you love me? I'm not a rapist, so why am I bearing the consequences? If your husband is so angry at your offender, why isn't he taking that frustration out on him instead? He has no right to hurt me, and you have no right to sit idly by!" I stepped back, my chest heaving. "I don't have the heart to be sensitive to your trauma anymore. I've taken my anger out on the wrong people too when the real target was Mr. Starr all along. Enough is enough!" I wiped at my tears roughly. "I'll make sure he never lays a hand on me again." With that, I whirled around and raced to the kitchen.

"Corbyn!" my mother called. Her pleas became muffled again, until all I could focus on was one voice-the one in my head.

I threw open drawers, looking for a long, slim, and very sharp knife. My fingers curled around the handle of the best one I could find before I headed straight for the stairs. The entire time, I was challenging myself to do it. Just... get it over with.

"Corbyn, what're you doing?!" Mom's shrill query pulled me from my trance, and I managed to brandish the knife before she could come any closer.

"Get away from me," I warned with dangerous eyes.

"Stop this madness! Are you crazy?!"

But I continued upward, tuning her out. I was furious and determined, and there wasn't a single thing that could stop me now. I wanted to hurt him, scar him, bruise him. I wanted his ribs to ache like mine, to cover him in wounds that couldn't be washed away. I wanted to be rid of him.

I wanted to kill him.

"My son, don't do this!" I felt her reach for my arm and I sharply inhaled as my anger boiled.

"I said get away!" I slashed her arm viciously, shoving her as she lost her footing. It wasn't a far fall down, but it was clearly painful by the way she screamed.

I couldn't be bothered. I bounded up to the third floor and charged toward the master bedroom where Mr. Starr was, all the years of abuse fueling my rage. I barged into the room where he was sleeping like a baby. It was an insult to me, the fact he could just doze off peacefully like he hadn't tortured me since childhood. Well, not tonight.

My chest heaved as I marched over to his side, ripping the covers off of him and grabbing him by the collar of his pajama shirt. He was startled awake with my bustling, and he was so disoriented that he couldn't defend himself in the moment.

I used that to my advantage, swinging him face first into the mirror nearby, and the brute force of my shove shattered it. "What the HELL?!" He demanded in utter shock, surprise, and anger. His trembling fingers reached up to remove the piece of glass stuck in his cheek. "Shit! Shit!" He grunted, struggling to get to his feet.

I seethed, shaking my head as my anger spiked. "No way!" I slammed my foot down on his back, causing him to fall back onto the glass and yell out in pain. I swallowed back every bit of hesitation, pushing down any bit of conscience that I had. This wasn't the time to be a victim. I wanted to be the offender, so that the mastermind of my abuse could know how it felt.

"C-Corbyn?" He wheezed out. "What the hell is the meaning of this?!"

"The meaning of this?" I repeated in disbelief. I kicked him in the gut and he yelled. "I'm going to rid myself of you if it's the last thing that I do."

His arms reached out to grip his dresser, but I just stabbed him deep in the shoulder and he bellowed. It was so blood curdling, I was sure the entire town could hear it.

"You'll pay for this!" he screeched, squeezing his eyes shut. "I'm gonna--"

"You're gonna what?!" I challenged.

I yanked out the knife, possibly taking flesh with it. I could hear him fighting for his breath, and I smiled wickedly. "How sad," I mocked with a sneer, walking around him without pity. I pressed the knife to his cheek, tilting my head with intrigue as I cut him. "If I don't kill you, your asthma attack will. God exists after all."

I kicked him onto his back and plunged the knife into his side, earning yet another lengthy, guttural cry. The feeling of causing such physical pain was alarming, and I tried to stop myself.

But I failed to do so. This was too sickly fascinating, and too important for me to quit halfway through. I clutched the handle of the knife and pulled it out again, watching maliciously as the blood on his shirt grow bigger and bigger.

"Corbyn!" I heard my sister shriek as she entered the room. "Oh my god!" Her eyes widened in fear when she took in the sight, and it wasn't for the faint of heart. I was holding a bloody knife, her father was bleeding out onto bits of shattered glass, and I was unapologetically standing over him.

"Go away, Ivy," I taunted in a singsong voice, twirling the knife around in my hand. "This doesn't concern you."

"Are you insane? Get away from my dad!" She tried to rush to his side, but I grabbed her shoulders and backed her into the wall, glaring into her eyes.

"You'd defend that monster?!" I growled.

"The only monster I see here is you!"

I snatched her wrist and held it up, shoving the bloody knife into her quivering hand. I curled her fingers around it and smiled crookedly. "No doubt Mom has alerted the police, if she found the strength to get up from the complicated tumble she took. Pardon me, but I don't feel like being around when they arrive. In fact, I think I've just decided that there are fates worse than death, so do try to keep your old man alive." I leaned menacingly closer and whispered. "I've got great plans for him." I released her as she panted in fear with wide eyes, then I allowed myself to enjoy the sound of Mr. Starr rasping in pain before I went to the elevator.

🎗🎗🎗🎗🎗

[text_hash] => 50e152d9
)