Arranged

1

I pressed my pillow tighter to my face, holding in my scream. I couldn't listen to them fight anymore. It felt like every day was a fight between my mother and her husband. It had been three years since they were married and I still couldn't see what she saw in him. He was an asshole, jobless, a rogue, and in my opinion, unattractive. He had zero standing with the royals and dragged whatever was left of my father's good name through the mud when he forced my mother to sell her interest in my father's farm for a quick buck.

Sometimes I wished werewolves could still shift like our ancestors just to take him out without proof it was me.

I heard glass shatter and my mother let out a yelp. Rick threw things at her all the time. Anything he could get his hands on was a potential weapon against her. He rarely came after me, but when he did, it was usually because I attempted to stop a particularly brutal beating on my mother.

"Amina, get your ass out here!" Rick bellowed through the house.

As much as I wanted to ignore him, I couldn't. If I ignored him, my mother suffered the consequences. I wasn't sure why he usually kept his hands off me, but I was glad he did.

I swung my legs off my twin bed and trudged down the hall to the living room. My mother sat on the couch, silently crying and not looking my way at all. Sometimes I wished I looked like her. She was the all-American woman; blonde hair, blue eyes, tall lean build. I could see how my father fell for her fast and hard. I definitely looked more like my Iranian father though. I had his dark, curly hair. His milky green eyes. I, however, inherited my paternal grandma's fair complexion. Or at least that was what I was told. I had never met the woman; she died well before I came around, but my grandpa loved telling me how much I looked like her. He and my father were always so proud I resembled her and not my American mother.

Rick turned his attention to me. A drop of sweat beaded from his nose. He wiped it away without ever breaking eye contact which was weird in and of itself. He clearly had some money scheme brewing. Those were the only schemes he ever had. I swear his brain was as smooth as a baby's ass when it came to money. He had zero knowledge of how to manage money or even make it for that matter. He was a shit provider unlike my father who had worked hard every day of his life. We had settled in the Central Valley of California because it was a farming hub. My father worked long hours to ensure our family farm was successful and it was. Until Rick came along. He knew nothing about agriculture, but pretended like he was the leading expert.

"Get yourself ready. We're having company," Rick ordered.

"Fine," I bit out. It was easier to obey. To keep the peace.

I could tell my mother was upset, but she lived upset everyday. I wasn't sure she had a happy day since my father died. She went right from grieving to dating Rick and marrying him in under a year.

I went back to my room and shut the door as quietly as possible. I hated Rick, but I wasn't going to stir the pot. I wasn't going to make my mother's life worse just to get in a couple sarcastic comments. I didn't see an end in sight for their marriage and I wasn't moving out to leave her alone with him. Instead, I just waited. I didn't know what I was waiting for; she clearly wasn't leaving him and I was nearly twenty. I was shocked he hadn't tried to kick me out of the house yet. Genuinely shocked.

I slipped on a jade dress and snatched a pair of ivory flats out of the closet. More often than not, I left my hair big, wild, and curly. I knew my mother liked it straight; after my father died, she asked that I straighten it. I knew it was because she didn't want another reminder of my father, so I obliged. It took forever to flat iron, but if it eased her suffering a little, it was the least I could do.