Chapter 37: PANG OF PAIN

Rose

I was ugly.

At least, that’s what I truly believed about myself as a teenager. Acne was something that generally never seemed to take root on other faces, yet for frustrating and unknown reasons, acne was my constant companion. Acne hated me. Acne ruined things in my life, and I hated it.

My pale skin didn’t help either, so much so that I started spending an obscene amount of time outside in the sun. After all, they said, “Go touch some grass.”

But worst of all, as far as I was concerned, the bane of my very existence was him.

I hated seeing him. I hated smelling him. His sweaty, musky scent often filled the entire shack we called home. With every passing day since Mom left, I understood her motivations more clearly. It was plain to see, and I chastised myself for not realizing it sooner.

Father’s presence disgusted me. That’s all I could feel—disgust. And now, more than ever before, I wanted nothing more than to run away from home.

Yet, I was still his daughter. I was young. Running away would be frowned upon, and in the end, they’d just bring me back to him. So, I simply counted the days.

“Hey.”

I heard his voice at the door of my room—or what could loosely be called a door, as it was nothing more than a few mismatched panels of wood holding together in place.

“Leave me alone,” I said, rolling my eyes away from him.

“Wanted to know if you’re coming down for dinner,” he said.

“If I want dinner, I’ll make it myself,” I snapped.

“Rose,” he called my name for the first time in what felt like forever. “Ever since she left, I know things haven’t been the way they should—”

“Thank you?” I interrupted, my voice laced with venom. “You have one less mouth to feed.”

Mom was gone, so it was just the two of us.

Dad sighed and began walking toward me.

“You’ve failed,” I said sharply. I grabbed the mismatched panels of wood that made up the door and slammed them in his face, causing one to break and let out a sharp crack.

“I hate you!” I screamed. “I hate this! Now leave me alone!”

I ran back into my room and huddled in a corner, purposefully keeping my eyes away from the door.

Eventually, the faint clatter of utensils alerted me that he had brought me dinner, as he did every night since Mom left. A pitiful attempt at being a good man, in my opinion. But still, I ate, went to sleep, and carried on with hating myself as usual.

Dad tried again.

This time, he brought his rickety and ugly-looking pickup truck to come pick me up from school. Of course, I had already become the laughingstock, as I didn’t have friends. I was “poor, smelly, and idiotic,” as they called me. But they didn’t know anything. Neither did he.

They didn’t know that I had plans. I was going to execute them one way or another. I wasn’t going to turn out like my mother, mated to some poor bloke who could barely afford anything and a life of endless labor.

I knew what I wanted, I thought as I glared at my father and his truck.

“Hey!” Dad waved at me. “Thought you might like a ride,” he said, his voice awkward.

He reached up to the back of his neck and began rubbing it. It was then I noticed he had cleaned up just a little. But it didn’t change the fact that he was still a disgusting individual in my eyes.

“Fuck off,” I said, using a nasty word for the first time.

I knew he wouldn’t strike me or scold me. He walked on eggshells around me.

Of course, he hadn’t found me. I had taken the back exit from school, a place they said was reserved only for rats and people from the sewers.

A perfect example of me, huh? I chuckled bitterly to myself.

Instead of going home, I started racking up clues I had pieced together.

Mom’s new husband—or rather, new mate—was a tycoon, a miner. At least, he owned many mines in the regions east of the central capital city. That being said, they lived in a massive house a few scores of miles away from my home. Being on foot, like the stupid teenager I was, meant I would spend several days on the road.

At least I was cute, I thought—only up to a certain point, but enough to secure myself a ride.

“Where are you going?”

A much nicer pickup truck stopped by with a man and a woman inside, and a child sat in the back.

“I’m looking for my mom,” I said in an innocent voice. “She left a few days ago, and I have a lead.” I made my voice quiver at the end.

Oh gosh, Rose, you could be a good actress. I mentally patted myself on the back as the woman’s face fell.

“My love,” she turned to her husband. “We have to help.”

“She’s going out of our way,” the man chided.

“Are you going to leave her? Seriously? In the middle of nowhere?” she retorted.

Technically, it wasn’t the middle of nowhere. There was plenty around if one bothered to look. But these were probably outsiders passing through, so I doubted they knew much.

They drove me for a good few hours before dropping me off in front of the road they claimed led to the great miner’s mansion.

“At least, that’s where he is, right? Jeremy Robertson?”

I gave a cheerful nod, thanked them profusely, and hopped out of the car, grateful to be away from the smell of babies. At least, I thought, this woman had made it to someone who could provide a good foundation—not something disgraceful or disgusting.

The walk up the hill to the mansion itself took forever, and I panted heavily for breath. But by the time I reached the top, I knew victory was near.

After arguing for what felt like forever with the gatekeeper, he finally let me in. I had convinced him enough that I was the new mistress’s daughter.

“The new mistress,” as he had described her, was sultry. She came in a few years after the old mistress had died during childbirth.

A few questions about her appearance were enough for me.

“Does she have dark hair?”

“Is she petite?”

“Does she have a beauty spot on her face like me?”

When all the answers were “yes,” the guard had no grounds to question my claims further and let me in.

By the time I reached the front of the house, I had the shock of a lifetime.

It wasn’t a house. It was a massive structure—bigger than even the high school I attended.

Of course, it was beautiful.

And more than ever before, I felt pang after pang of pain that Mom hadn’t taken me with her.