Chapter 4

Astrid “Oh no, not today.” I groan in frustration, the moment I walk into my apartment. Seated on the sofa is Casey, my fucking, annoying stepmother. “Hey, come back here!!” She calls just when I'm about to turn to leave. “Do you need anything?” I ask in a clipped tone, standing by the door as she glares at me. Casey hates me to the core, and till date, I'm still figuring out why. I'm not rich. I don't have any designers or valuable property. Dad loves her and her stupid daughter more than me, so why? If it's the beauty and hotness, I understand her pain. She and her daughter will never be able to hold a candle to my beauty. But that isn't enough to hate a person, right? “The guts to ask me that. Come here.” She gestures for me to walk into the room. I sigh, taking deep breaths, before walking to the middle of the room. She sits up from the chair she's sitting on, staring face-to-face with me. “What do you–” “It's been a month, Astrid, and you haven't brought any money,” she abruptly interrupts me. “I told you I quit,” I draw out for the millionth time this month. What's so hard for her to understand? I QUIT WORKING AS A STRIPPER. I can't go back to working at the club after what happened that night. So I quit my job, and since then, I've been struggling to get a new one. “Don't fucking joke with me, Astrid. What do you mean by you quit? Then what are you going to be doing around? Eat? For the money, you don't even contribute to the house. You must be joking.” she scoffs, and I look around at the poorly furnished living room. “What does Harper do?” I ask. Harper is her child. “Nothing!” I reply to myself. “You know there's a slot for strippers in the club, she can go and apply for one, so she can start bringing you money. Just leave–” I'm interrupted by a slap from Casey. This isn't the first time, so trust me when I say I'm used to getting hit in the face. It's a daily routine. “My daughter is not a whore!!” She yells. “And you think I'm one!!” I yell back at her, my eyes brimming with tears. “I have a life, Casey, just like your stupid Harper does. But you make me wear skimpy clothes to go dance for men at night, while Harper is upstairs on her phone all day, doing nothing. I'm not your slave!!” I scream as tears stream down my face. Every penny I made from stripping went to Casey's pocket. I only kept a few changes with me, in case I needed to get essential stuff like sanitary pads. “Oh yes, you are. You're my slave, Astrid. You became one the moment your mother died.” “Oh, please.” I groan in frustration, wiping the tears from my eyes. “Stop bringing my mother into this.” “Why shouldn't I? You're as worthless as her. We're in debt because of you, and instead of you working and bringing money, you quit! For what?” “Because I'm fucking tired, Casey. All the debts Dad incurred are because of you and Harper. He didn't change the TV set but bought Harper the latest iPhone. There's a leaking roof all over, but he gave Harper money to get a fake Birkin. So how's any of this my cross to bear?” I ask in a strained voice. I should probably run away. I'm tired. Not only did a man force himself on me, but I've also been having morning sickness. I just pray it's not pregnancy. I don't remember him using protection. If I turn out to be pregnant, I've already planned to abort the baby. No way am I going to raise a child without the father. I just hope it's not a pregnancy. "It should be your problem, Astrid. I'm asking you to bring money so we can deal with the situation at hand, and you're here sprouting rubbish." She hisses. "I have nothing to do with your situation," I say tiredly. "You will have something to do with it when your father's head is brought home." She scoffs, and I stiffen. "What did you say?" My father might have been a total asshole, but he's still my father. "You heard me. Your father is owing." "That's not news," I mumble with a frown. He's probably owing the whole neighborhood. "Well, this is new news, Astrid. Your father borrowed money from the Mafia gang a week ago." She fires in disdain as my face pales. Why, Dad? Why them? Those people are dark and vicious. "And he wants his money back. Your father doesn't even have a penny to give. He went to beg for his life today; heaven knows if he'll come back alive. We don't even have collateral to give. There's nobody that will accept this rotten house." Casey mocks as she laughs. "And if you've been working, we would have gotten a few dollars to give them. But look, you keep proving how worthless you are." "That's enough, Casey. Dad never shared the money with me, and if you need money so badly, Harper can go strip!" I scoff. I was defiled while trying to raise money for the family. A stranger had his way with me, and I have no idea about his identity. And why did it happen? Because of the shit I call my family. I abruptly stop school just so I can start earning money for the family, and I don't even have decent clothes, bags, shoes, or anything. But Harper, who doesn't even lift a finger, has it all. Why? Because Dad keeps borrowing money just to please his dumb wife and daughter. "Excuse me," I mutter under my breath as I walk to the door. I need to get out of the house and have some time to think. Just when I open the door, my eyes widen at Dad, who's standing by the door. He has scratches on his face; his hair is disheveled. He got a good beating. "Dad," I call, and a mischievous smile plays on his lips. "Thank God I found you here. You're coming with me." He states, and I frown. What the hell is he talking about?