Chapter 16

Celeste

“Bye!” Fiona said, waving as she walked up the steps to her house. “See you tomorrow; and don’t forget to pack your gym clothes!”

“I won’t,” I replied with a smile. I watched my friend disappear inside her house, and then headed down the street toward my own house. It wasn’t a long walk—just a few blocks.

The rush of the day's accomplishments was still coursing through me when I pushed open the door to our shared home.

But that high vanished the moment my gaze landed on the scene before me.

“Jack!” I screamed, my voice echoing through the hallways. But I was met with only silence.

Laid out in front of me was a trail of cornflower blue fabric. Each piece had been shredded and painstaking laid out in an obvious path leading up the stairs.

Tears flowed freely as I slowly and shakily followed the path that had been left for me. With each step, my legs felt heavier, my soul felt more crushed.

The trail disappeared under my bedroom door. A sob caught in my throat, and my hand shook as I reached out for the handle. Slowly, I twisted it, praying that I was in a dream.

The door swung open with a creak, and I came upon the most gut-wrenching sight in my bedroom.

The remains of my once-beautiful cornflower blue gown lay ruined on my bed. I clapped my hand over my mouth as I slowly approached, my eyesight blurred by my tears.

It had been completely shredded, leaving only scraps of the silky bodice behind. It was hardly even a dress now; it was just a rag.

Next to the carnage sat a note, unmistakably in Jack’s handwriting.

Picking up the note, my voice quivered as I read it..

“Found your dress hanging to dry. Did you honestly believe I wouldn’t see it? Going to the ball? And that stint at the gym? Don’t fool yourself. You won’t embarrass me or yourself. I’ll be home by 8. The house had better be sparkling and dinner prepared for me and my friends.”

Hot tears filled my eyes, and my hands shook uncontrollably.

“This is too far, Jack!” I shouted to no one in particular except for the empty house.

For a moment, I allowed myself the indulgence of crumbling to the ground, clutching the tattered blue fabric to my chest while sobs shook my entire body.

As the tears streamed down my face, I sprang to my feet, rage and sadness propelling me forward.

I began picking up the scattered pieces, stuffing them into a trash bag, my sobs echoing in the quiet room.

The sudden buzz of my phone on the bedside table made me jump. Picking it up, my breath caught at the sight of Matt's name.

“Hey, mystery girl,” the message began. “I’ve been missing you. Excited to see you at the ball!”

Attached to it was another picture. A selfie, a close-up of Matt’s face. He was smiling slightly. His eyes were warm.

A choked sob caught in my throat. I hesitated, then typed out my painful response. It was only three words.

“I can’t go.”

I hit send, regretting it immediately.

But it was the necessary thing to do, and it was all over now. Before Matt could even have a chance to read the message, I quickly shut off my phone and threw it down on my bed and got to work.

I couldn’t bring myself to wait for a reply. Instead, I began the long and grueling task of cleaning the entire house. My body moved mechanically, each scrub and sweep feeling like a knife in my chest.

I did what Jack wanted; I played the part of the perfect, subservient little sister.

I changed out of my sweaty gym clothes and into the baggy clothes that he always made me wear.

My unruly hair, still damp from sweat and tears, was pulled back into a tight ponytail. I pushed my ugly glasses further up on my nose and felt the confidence I had gained earlier seep out of my body and disappear.

Once I was finished cleaning, I found myself in the kitchen, rushing to prepare a meal for Jack and his friends.

Matt would no doubt be there, but I hoped to be hiding in my room by the time that they arrived.

The aroma of the roast chicken was rich and heady, contrasting the bitterness that churned within me. The potatoes glistened with olive oil; my stomach was growling after my intense workout, but I didn’t plan on eating again tonight. The thought of eating made me feel sick.

Lost in thought, I almost didn't hear the front door bang open.

The deep, familiar voice of my brother filled the house, breaking me out of my deep train of thought and taking me by surprise. It was only a quarter to eight; he had arrived fifteen minutes earlier than he said he would.

“Celeste!” he called out, a note of annoyance in his tone. “Is dinner done?”

I froze, swallowing as I heard his footsteps approach and stop in the doorway. “Well?” he growled. “My friends are waiting outside.”

Gathering my composure, I turned to face him, the remnants of my tears still visible. “It’s almost done,” I replied, struggling to keep my voice steady. “I’ll have it on the table in five minutes.”

He was standing in the kitchen doorway, his arms folded haughtily across his chest. His eyes darted briefly to my face, but if he registered my distress, he didn’t show it. Instead, he smirked, glancing at the spread that I had prepared.

“Good,” he said curtly. He disappeared; I heard the sound of him calling for his friends, followed by the unmistakable sound of conversation and laughter as they flooded inside.

Watching them from the doorway, a storm of emotions welled up within me. The chapter of the evening may have closed, but the story was far from over.

Matt was the last one to come in. Our eyes met; there was a sadness in his face, hidden beneath the polite smile that he had put on for the group. He had seen my message, and I could tell that it was hurting him. That, somehow, hurt even more than my shredded dress.

I quickly looked away, scurrying back into the kitchen to pull the roast chicken out of the oven. I set everything up to be served, and then began my trek back to my room.

Jack, however, caught me by the elbow in the hallway.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he hissed, his voice low so his friends couldn’t hear.

“To my room,” I replied, trying—and failing—to wrench my arm out of his grip. “Dinner is ready.”

Jack tsked and shook his head. “Don’t go thinking that you can just go and hide in your room tonight. Get back in the kitchen and serve dinner.”

With that, Jack released his grip on my elbow and returned to the living room, where he was met with the raucous laughter of his friends, who were watching sports on the television.

It was then that I caught Matt’s gaze again as I passed the doorway; his eyes were averted, fixed unblinkingly on the floor.

I blinked away the tears that threatened to form, and got to work serving dinner.

Be the perfect, subservient little sister, I thought to myself as I began to lay dinner out on the table. Don’t let them see your real pain.