Her mother was standing next to the cooker, cooking scrambled eggs and sausages. Iliana wrinkled her nose at the smell, she never liked fry-ups.
She went for her usual cereal and sat down to eat.
‘How’s school going? Have you started studying for your exams?’ her mother asked casually. She shook the pan and the sausages sizzled under the high heat.
Iliana took a spoonful of cereal and said, ‘Yeah, I’m trying when there’s no fights or banging going on.’
Her mother abruptly stopped shaking the pan and sighed. ‘Iliana, I know it’s hard for you. I know your father and I should be helping’.
‘Helping? Helping?’ Iliana snapped. ‘You and dad are the most selfish, self-centred people I know! You call yourselves parents? You don’t know the meaning of the word! Maybe you both should go back to playschool and start again because I think your brains froze at the age of five! You’re so mixed up in yourselves you forget who the child is in this house!’
She stood up from the table, and instead of finishing her breakfast she took a bar out of the fridge and stalked out of the kitchen.
She ran upstairs and grabbed her schoolbag from her bed. She was striding back out when she ran into her father. It was obvious he had a hangover. He was wearing her mother’s pyjama bottoms, a faded white vest, his eyes were half closed and his hair needed brushing.
‘Scruffy as usual. Why don’t you get a job and grow up?’ she spat coldly, she brushed past him and found her mother waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs.
‘Iliana, don’t speak to me like that again. I have tried my best to raise you well, but I didn’t raise you to disrespect your parents.’ she pushed sternly.
Iliana felt like a frustrated bull in a ring surrounded by goaders.
She stopped directly in front of her and said, ‘You’re right. But unfortunately, to get respect, you have to earn it.’
She started for the door when her mother said, ‘Stop! Get back here now, I’m not finished talking to you.’
Iliana opened the door and said, ‘Yeah? Too bad.’ She slammed the door behind her. Outside in the morning sunshine, she headed down her disgrace for a front garden; it was another smear of her permanently broken situation. One more embarrassment to add to the pile of her shame.
She shut the crooked gate behind her that squealed under the strain, and went for her usual shortcut down the back lane of the nun’s convent and headed to school.
After enduring another one of Sr. Susan’s lectures on manners, Mrs. Hanbacks boring maths class and taking notes in Mr. Timmons, Zelda asked Iliana if she wanted to go home with her after school.
‘Yeah sure, it’s not like I have anything to look forward to in my house.’ replied Iliana dully. They jumped into Zelda’s car and drove to her house.
When they entered the house, the smell of cooking hung in the air.
Iliana flashed a smile at Zelda’s aunt. A woman in her forties with poker straight red hair was inhaling steam simmering from the bubbling pot. Her painted fingernails were candy pink and held a wooden spoon for closer inspection.
She smiled. ‘Hi Iliana. Hope you’re staying for dinner.’
‘Smells good so I think so!’
‘Come on upstairs,’ Zelda nudged. ‘We can study in my room for a while.’
One hour and dinner later, Iliana lay stretched out on Zelda’s bed with a textbook open, she was studying it so hard her nose nearly touched the page.
Zelda sat on the floor. Her room was the opposite to Iliana’s; it was clean for a starter. She had one poster on the wall that said, ‘Live Your Dream Each Day’. The personality of her bedroom was simple, tasteful and spotless with pristine walls and drapes hanging from her dresser and bed.
Zelda had been reading a French textbook when she slammed it shut, causing Iliana to jump. ‘That is it, I’ve had enough of studying,’ she said irritably.
‘What’s wrong?’ asked Iliana, poking up from behind her book.
Zelda was sprawled out on the floor hopelessly. ‘Studying. It’s so ridiculous that your whole life depends on these exams, I know they’re important, but the teachers keep going on like you’ll end up in McDonald’s for the rest of your life if you don’t do excellent. I can’t handle the stress,’ replied Zelda despairingly.
‘I know what you mean, I’m so fed up I think my head is going to explode! Besides we’re supposed to take breaks every few minutes when studying, like go out for a walk or something’ said Iliana.
‘A walk? Can we just take a break here?’ asked Zelda miserably.
Iliana laughed, then looked at her watch. ‘Actually, I should probably go.’
Iliana said goodbye to Zelda’s aunt while Zelda grabbed her car keys.
When they stepped outside, a warm evening breezed through the pollen scented air, and Iliana could smell the greenery of fresh cut grass.
‘Quite warm out for England, isn’t it?’ Iliana asked as they got into Zelda’s car.
‘Yeah, but you know, it’s probably global warming. Becoming a real problem these days.’ replied Zelda.
They drove to Iliana’s house in silence, when Zelda pulled up outside of her house Iliana muttered, ‘Time to face the music.’
Zelda’s look was sympathetic.
‘It’s what I’ve been doing my whole life.’ Iliana went on. ‘My parents abandon me for crappier ones. Life is good.’
Zelda sighed and killed the engine. ‘Iliana, if things are getting too tough and you can’t study, you can stay with me for as long as you like. My aunt doesn’t mind.’
Iliana shifted awkwardly in her seat. ‘You know I don’t ask people for help. I don’t want to be in you or your aunt’s way or anyone else’s. I don’t want to bother anyone with my own personal problems.’
‘Regardless, if you want to stay, give us a text and I’ll pick you up. Ok?’
Iliana nodded and pulled her bag out from the back seat. ‘You’re a wicked friend, I don’t think I could have done it this far without you,’ she said.
‘Done what?’ asked Zelda, frowning.
‘Fight,’ she replied. She got out and shut the door.
Zelda sat for another few seconds, then roared the engine to life and drove off without a wave.
When Iliana shut the front door behind her, her father stumbled out of the kitchen and slurred, ‘Where were you?’
To anyone else, it would have sounded like nonsensical gibberish, but Iliana had endured drunken sentences to aspire into a career of being a professional translator.
‘Out,’ she replied simply, and headed for the stairs. But her father stretched his arm to stop her.
Iliana looked at him coldly.
‘You need a gsood smackin’ for tshe way you wen’ on sis mornin,’ he said slowly, as if even and thinking of and saying the words was a real effort. Whiskey exuded from his pores and it hit her like a brick wall.
She recoiled. ‘Really? I’m surprised you even remember about this morning, I thought you were still drunk,’ she said sardonically, she was good at giving her father back talk. Showing fear was not an option for her in a household where survival was always number one.
Her father squinted at her for another few seconds, trying to grasp the mockery in her words. His eyes were blood shot and looked as if they might pop out of his head.
His face and neck were swollen tomato red and his hair was dishevelled. He leaned forward close to Iliana’s face with an intention to intimidate, a gesture she was used to.
Iliana stared back at him defiantly.
‘You, better watch your mou’,’ he said darkly.
‘Or what?’ snapped Iliana.
He blinked twice and said, ‘Or, I’ll have to spank you.’
Iliana grinded her teeth, her fury lashed inside her like a whip.
She leaned closer and hissed, ‘I don’t think so, because you see, you’re not actually my dad.’
It took a few
seconds, but her father’s eyes grew wide with rage at the bold
response; he raised his arm back and backslapped Iliana in the face so hard she hit the floor. She lay there with her back turned to him, suppressing the need to cry.
I show no fear, no weakness, especially in front of him, she thought.
Steel formed in her stomach to wipe out the pain. She tasted blood on her lips, and let the shock reverberate through her.
Iliana picked herself up like she had to so many times and snapped venomously, ‘You good for nothing piece of shit! Who the hell do you think you are? You’re not even my biological father. You do nothing, you are nothing. All you do is sit around on your arse playing your stupid country music and drink. You rob mother’s wages and waste it on shit like this!’
She picked up a half bottle of brandy that was sitting on the end of a table and hurled it at him. Even in his drunken state, he managed to just about narrowly miss the missile and it smashed into the wall behind him.
Iliana’s mother appeared out of the sitting room. She looked at the blood on Iliana’s mouth and the broken remains of the brandy bottle on the ground.
‘What’s going on?’ she demanded, looking between them, ‘did you hit her?’ she
asked Iliana’s father accusingly.
Iliana carried on viciously. Her pain gave way to a gluttonous rage that pushed itself to be expressed to its fullest extent.
‘You have made my life a misery since I was brought into this house, why on Earth did St. Brigid’s orphanage send me to this fucking kip!’ She threw her arms up into the air. ‘You never face up to your problems; you don’t care about anyone but yourself. All you do is drink a bottle of whiskey, moping about in your own sorrows feeling sorry for yourself. Like as if you’re on the only person on this planet who suffers. What about my feelings, what about my suffering, or mum’s? You don’t care because all you can think about is yourself!’
Iliana’s father stood limply and stared at her. His eyes were dazed and probably didn’t even catch half of what she was saying.
Her mother took a step towards her. ‘Iliana, are you all right? Let me look at you.’
She touched her arm softly.
Iliana pushed her away; she wanted him to know exactly what she had been through because of him, it was the communication that was important, the conveyance of her pain of which he feared knowing. Years of suffering, depression and anger were swelling up inside her like a tornado swirling in the clouds threatening to land.
She leered at him with black hatred in her eyes. ‘You,’ she spat and took a step towards him. ‘You made growing up so hard. Nearly every night, I would be lying in bed listening, just listening while you beat mum up because she wouldn’t give you money for your bloody booze. Every day I have to put a face on and try and act normal, let everyone know that everything is ok when it’s so far from it. A bloody sham of an act. All I wanted was a normal life with a normal family, it couldn’t be enough that my parents abandon me at an orphanage. No, I had to be sent here to a hell house!’
All the emotions that she tried to control and stomp down were pushing their way up inside her. Many years of memories flitted by in her eyes. Going home from school wondering what she would see when she got there.
Her father drunk at a parent teacher meeting while she sat outside feeling there was no way out of this life. Her held back frustrations pushed aggressively forward wanting to be heard, and she was beginning to lose her self-control.
‘You!’ she cried, she jabbed her finger at him while her vision of him blurred through tears. ‘You never cared about me! Never loved me! Just hit me!’
A light sparked to life on the tip of her pointed finger. A pure blinding white light started to emanate there, pulsating and sizzling, growing fiercer and brighter by the second.
Iliana’s fury was quickly replaced with confusion and panic as she stared at her glowing finger. It swelled and grew to the size of a tennis ball.
She took a step back.
It shot straight from her fingertip to her father and a momentary flash engulfed the hall and Iliana shielded her eyes.
When she lowered her hands, she saw her father lying motionless, eyes closed.
‘Iliana what did you do?’ her mother wailed. She pushed past her and kneeled beside him.
Iliana stood frozen, her feet earthed into the ground like tree roots.
Her mouth was open for words she couldn’t say, and a trickle of blood spilled down her chin. She felt a strange buzzing sensation in her body, like she had just received a mild electrical shock.
She sprinted upstairs and threw open her bedroom door, causing it to bounce against the wall. Turning her school bag upside down, she began packing, shoving in clothes and other items. Two minutes later, she dashed back downstairs and reached for the door handle.
‘Iliana?’ her mother asked hesitatingly, with the phone in her hand. ‘I’ve called the paramedics.’
She looked at her bag. ‘What are you doing?’
‘I’m sorry mum, but I can’t stay here anymore. I need to be on my own right now. I’m going to Zelda’s.’
‘Oh.’ It was all her shocked expression could manage.
Overcome with so many fleeting emotions that she was having trouble identifying them all, Iliana gasped and hugged her mother hard.
‘Iliana, don’t go,’ her mother whispered.
Iliana released her and dashed to the door, afraid that if she lingered any longer she wouldn’t leave at all.
‘Iliana, please.’
She left before she could take another glance at her unconscious father.
Chapter Three
I
liana shut the door behind her and let out a pained sigh. She ran a shaky hand through her hair and sputtered out sob after sob.
Between the troubles at home and the pressures of studying, the last thing she needed was a light shooting out from her finger!
With a gut-wrenching dread, she saw the fragments that made up the picture of her life crumbling, piece by piece.
It was shocking to realise that it only took a mere few seconds for one disastrous situation to send her reeling. How one moment could change every moment afterwards.
Rapidly trying to piece together what had just happened, she wiped her nose and tears away from her face.
It was dusk outside; the sun was bleeding an orangutan orange in a violet sky dotted with early stars.
Iliana strode from her front garden and picked up a quick pace. Her stride broke into a run as she heard the roaring sirens of an ambulance from behind. She ran to the top of her road and turned left onto the main route that led to the local village. When she felt she was far away enough, she slowed down to a walk.
At the edge of the village to Iliana’s left stood the local church; beside it was a side lane that ran between it and the priest’s residence.
Iliana walked through it and emerged into a cul de sac and headed to the end where Zelda’s house stood.
As she neared, she began to imagine her friend’s face when she told her the story.
Her heart picked up in rhythmic beats as she neared, feeling more frantic about how she was going swing this. Would Zelda believe her?
When she reached the house, all the windows were shut and there were no lights on for the approaching night.
She opened the gate and knocked on the front door.
No answer. Iliana buzzed the bell several times and even threw a few small stones at Zelda’s bedroom window.
Anxiety set in. She couldn’t go home; the place was probably flooded with paramedics and police by now. Her stomach pinched tightly at the idea of the police. Could she get arrested?
Just as she was about to turn around and walk away she heard a noise from inside the house.
She froze and listened keenly.
Voices. Muffled ones.
Iliana frowned and backed away from the door. Whose v
oices? If it were Zelda or her aunt, why wouldn’t they open the door? Surely, they heard her knocking? She had made enough noise to probably anger the neighbours.
Iliana hesitated. If she left, she wouldn’t have anywhere else to go.
St. Brigid’s orphanage might be a start, she thought sarcastically, maybe they could do a better job of rehoming me this time.
Iliana threw her bag over the back wall and hoisted herself over. She remembered when Zelda and she would lie on their backs on the shed’s roof, looking up at the stars.
Zelda was obsessed with stars. She knew every constellation there was. Ask her any and she could tell you what time of the year to look for it, where in the world you would have to be, and which direction in the sky to look.
Iliana landed softly on the balls of her feet and moved down quietly to emerge into the back garden.
The voices had gotten louder and more distinct, but Iliana couldn’t figure out who they belonged to. Then a disturbing thought occurred to her. What if these people were burglars?
She swallowed down her fear and decided to chance a look. Walkers Fall didn’t exactly have the highest crime rate anyway.
Iliana looked around the back garden.
Fairy lights were wrapped around two large bushes that had been sheared into the shapes of garden gnomes. A humble path passed between the bushes and took the walker through a garden heaven of daffodils, poppies, lilies and lilacs to end with two nicely round rose bushes. The flowers had flourished in the early summer air and Iliana could smell their floral infused fragrance.
A glass sliding door led to the kitchen and the kitchen window was beside it.
Iliana hunched down onto her heels at the corner of the house and poked her head out. She could see the sliding door was shut, and the curtain blinds had been drawn.
‘Damn.’ she whispered.
The voices sounded argumentative, and she thought she heard for a second Zelda’s voice amidst the clamour.
The kitchen light was on and luckily the blinds hadn’t been drawn on the window.
Return of the Starchild (The Divine Inheritance Series Book 1) Page 4