"We share the same secrets as kids. And grow up to face the same fears as adults." -fw.
When Amelia May loses her father to cancer, she is forced to separate with her only sibling and move in with the McKays, a wealthy high-class family. She slowly...
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Amelia
I ambled half-heartedly out of my bedroom and softly closed the door behind me, smoothing my palms over the thick mid-band of the ivory dress. My stomach pulsed painfully under the rough, stiff fabric, crying out for breath at every subtle motion. The gown was eminently tight around the midriff, making me feel as though my organs were grinding and mashing into flat globs of mush. Meredith believed that elegance and dignity involved women with small waists who wore dresses that were firmly fitted at the bust but widely flowing at the hips. It would be a generous plus if you had a bum that could project the backend, of course.
Evidently, she was living in a parody of the 1800s.
Over the years, I had gradually become the unrighteous people that gathered at our home every other fortnight or end of the month. The ones that buried their corruption under the plaques of gold and silver and infinite pounds. I was beautiful that day. Make-up done modestly, patent shoes polished to perfection, with immaculately white flower socks bending over the gold buckles. I was clean but dirty on the inside. My skin smelled of vanilla and daisies, but inside had reeked of decaying flesh and staled blood. Filthy flies were surrounding my soul, drawn by the stench of lies and iniquity, and I could almost see myself in some dark desolate place—the forest where Papa had left me. Alone. Broken. Trapped.
And Jacob ensured to remind me of it. He stood behind me before I had left my bedroom. Smirking and ensuring I knew how dirty I was. Not only for covering up the sins of our youth but for sleeping half-naked next to my adoptive brother. For liking the way his naked arms held me and caressed me, and squashed me into his warm body. Jacob ensured to remind me that I was far gone. Into a desolate pit of nothingness, and I felt like not even Adam could have saved me. I was in the arms of Lucifer. But there were more than one of them.
As I made my way down the hallway, dreading the den of immorality already gathering in the living room, I heard indistinct chattering emerging from Mr. McKay's study. My strides slowed down momentarily until they came to a complete halt at his doorway. I knew eavesdropping had often left me disturbed. Mr. McKay's private conversations were not for the hearing, but it seemed as though I hadn't learned my lesson and perhaps needed more trauma to finally mind my business.
The door was too thin, too thin to keep behind it the secrets of this family. I wondered why Mr. McKay felt it was safe to speak so freely when the oak barrier didn't offer sufficient privacy.
"Oh, is that so?"
"Yes." A voice, sounding gravely familiar, flowed out in a tone of uncertainty. A deep laughter followed, one that made my blood froze over, and I moved my body forward, placing an eye at the narrow crevice between the door and the wall.
