Bombshells ~ Complete

Chapter Two: Three Months Ago

She was the type of woman that women wanted to be. Blond hair, crystal blue eyes, olive skin, long legs, a strong but feminine face, a face clear of imperfections. Except those subtle laugh lines around her eyes that crinkled as she smiled down at me.

She scared me. She was perfect, reminding me of how I was nothing.

  "Do you want some help?" For a split second, I thought she was talking about my father, but then I realized I was still on the floor surrounded by berries.

I shook my head and got to my unsteady feet. She saw my knees shaking and grabbed my arm in a tight grip, her eyes showing concern as she led me away from the pile of food. She had a strength that was not shown by her skinny figure and dainty hands.

  "Thank you," I whispered, afraid that my father would walk through the door and see me talking with this stranger. She smiled gently at me, almost as if she could see that people made me anxious and afraid.

  "It's no problem sweetie. I have sons, so I'm always cleaning up after them. You should see some of the messes they make back in New York," She laughed, and as she turned to look at the worker who was cleaning up the berries, I could have sworn I heard her say "Including the stock market."

I kept my eyes on the woman in front of me, ready to dash at a moment's notice. She looked friendly. So did my father. They all looked nice and caring. And then they destroyed you.

  "Are you here by yourself?" She asked, looking around. She wouldn't find any parents that cared about me anywhere around here. I nodded. "How old are you?" She asked.

I wasn't offended by the question. I knew I didn't look sixteen. It was because my father kept me in the tiny attic most of my life with nothing but books to entertain me. It stunted my growth. Along with not getting fed on a regular basis, I was disgustingly thin and almost always sick.

  "Sixteen," I whispered. Her blue eyes widened in shock as she looked me up and down. Her lips twisted into a frown when she saw my collar bones peaking out from behind my shirt, like a curtain. All of my bones jutted out against my skin like they were trying to break out of me from the inside.

It wasn't pleasant to look at either.

  "Why don't you give your mom or dad a call and then we can get you home?" The woman was crouching down in front of me. I finally looked at my hands long enough to notice they were covered in juice. Oh, that's why everyone who passed either looked at me with pity, or disgust.

  "No, i'll walk," I said and picked myself up. My legs were fine, no shaking. But the woman still felt obliged to walk me to the door, a frown still marring her beautiful face. She had to be in her early fifties, but she aged wonderfully.

  "Well, be careful," The woman said, before walking to her car with a backwards glance towards me. I gave a halfhearted wave before starting my long trek home.

I was already in the door when I realized I didn't have the blackberries. I hung my head, not letting one tear escape, when I finally entered my house.

It was furnished elegantly, but that was the thing. It didn't look like a teenager lived there. It looked like a room out of a magazine.

  "Father?" I called out softly. No response. Thank goodness. I still had time to get to work.

An hour later, the door opened and I was setting a steaming plate on the table. Without blackberry cobbler.

  "Ariel?" Came the questioning voice. He sounded happier than normal. I hoped that meant that my beating tonight would be less.