Trigger Warning
Thirteen Years Ago"Daddy, please! Please, don't leave us. Please!" The tiny child was sobbing hysterically, clinging to his pants. The man moved with purpose, uncaring, dragging the little girl.
No! She didn't let go. How she wished her hands were bigger so she could surround his limb with enough force to make him stop. Unconcerned. Irritation marring his features.
It was no use. The small frame that was her body got drag along. He continued to walk towards the door.
"Leave him be, brat. He doesn't want us anymore." No! That was not true. She was daddy's little girl. He loved her. He read her stories at night and he would always bring her chocolates.
Her swollen eyes pleaded with him. "Please, daddy. Don't leave me." He doesn't even look at her. His face was graven and his hands were clenched. His anger was palpable and he looked outside where his car was parked. The engine was left running.
Dad shook his head, removed her hands around him none too gently. She stumbled when he pushed her a bit hard. Shock filled her. He had never hurt her before. She was his little girl. He loved her. He must.
He took that advantage and he got out the door, straight to his car without a backward glance. Not even once.
Why? Had she done something wrong?
"Mom?" That one loaded question was ignored. She continued to drink tequila straight from the bottle.
"Yourrr...dad...willl...not...come backk! Remmm...mem...berr that, brat!" She looked at her with malice, and with a cruel smirk, dismissed her with a flick of a finger, wanting her daughter away from her sight.
Sinclair ran to her bedroom and cried herself to sleep.
Dad will come back. He must. He loved her.
Her tummy rumbled. She ignored it.
-Daddy, please come back.-
***
"Son of a bitch! You are a fucking burden! Brat! Idiot! You won't fucking eat. Bitch!" She trembled from the hits she was receiving from her mother. Her fault. She burned their dinner. Her fault.
It was always her fault.
She ran to the kitchen to serve her mother her dinner.
There was constant roaring in her ears when mother was hitting her a bit too hard with a bottle. It hurt a lot. Bees were swirling inside her head. Big fat bees. Her mother would always aim for her head.
Moving fast despite her size, she scrambled to make things right. She didn't want to make her mom angry.
To salvage the dinner - scrambled eggs and toasted bread - she scraped the edible parts to a different pan. This time the flame on the stove was just right.
Tremors ran through her small body. She had to serve her food soon or else.....
Sleeping outside on a cold night was no fun. That was her constant punishment aside from her mother's physical abuse.
Damn these tears! Make it stop.
She was startled from the tap on her thin shoulders, she held tight to avoid falling from the makeshift platform she was standing at.
"I said are you done, brat!" Jeez. She didn't hear her. She read her lips instead. "You move too fucking slow! Hurry up! I'm hungry."
"Yes, mum," she mumbled.
It had been like this for a year now. Her mother's liquor addiction has worsened. Thank God, her aunt owned the diner where she worked and the mortgage in this house was paid or they will be out on the streets.
Her beatings have worsened as well. The teachers began to notice. Sinclair would always tell them she fell from the stairs, from the bathroom, everywhere. She didn't want her mum to go to jail and she didn't want to go and live at an orphanage.
At her age, almost 9 years old. She understood these things. She had to.
***
Five Years Later
Yes! Aunt Lydia had finally consented for her to work part-time at her diner. She knew she was only fourteen. So, her Aunt told her what she will mostly do was assist the cook and wait on orders if the diner was a bit busy.
It was okay. As long as she got tips. Her goal was to go to college. She would need money for that.
Sinclair wanted to be a teacher. Which she will be someday.
Her humming stopped whilst she entered their home. Mom hated her daughter's voice but ever since her aunt bought her hearing aid, she couldn't stop. She smiled.
Her aunt and her husband were God-sent.
"Mom?" She called excitedly. The house was too quiet. Damn! Oops, she didn't mean to swear. The house was a mess. Beer bottles were everywhere. Leftovers rotting. Her nose wrinkled at the foul smell.
Did mom have a party while she was at school? She usually does at night but Sinclair made sure to escape and took off to her aunt.
She didn't like the predators her mom brought home with her. They would always look at her strangely
Where was she? She was not at the diner where she was supposed to work.
Frowning and adjusting her hearing aide, she called out once more.
Where was she? Her heart began to thump. Panic setting in.
Sinclair ran to her mom's room.
It was empty.
***
Mother never came back after that day. She waited and waited. And waited.
They both left her. Was it because she was deaf? And she became a burden? But it happened from her mom's beatings. She couldn't help it.
The child services came by. Aunt Lydia took full custody. Sinclair begged her to let her stay in her own house. At first, her aunt didn't want to but finally relented when the child escaped every night.
She had to wait for her mom. Maybe she will come back one day.
Senior high came, she was not there. She received her medals alone. No parents, no friends, no family.
Aunt Lydia sold her diner at Rose Hill a while back and moved to Fort Worth USA, where uncle Steve was assigned. She refused to go with them.
Telling them in no uncertain terms she must be here when her mom decided to come back.
Except mother never did.
Sinclair declared herself an orphan at age 18.
Alone.
Surviving.
Sinclair This was the third trimester of the year, three more months, ninety more days, and she's done. No more late nights at the library. No more three jobs to keep her afloat. No more walking three miles a day when she missed the bus. Just three more months and five more majors standing in her way. And this day was the first in the countdown. Sinclair's head ducked, avoiding fellow unis converging on the spacious hallway. Everyone belonged in a group. Except her. She couldn't stand them. And they sure as hell couldn't stand the poor girl at the campus. Someone even pointed out she smelt funny. Funny? At least she smelled clean and not like an overdose potpourri. Yuck! The thought alone could trigger her allergies to strong smells. She favored fresh flowers though. And when she had enough money to buy a nice cott
Sinclair To say the professor was relentless was an understatement. They, the students, became slaves of the subject.And he was taking no prisoner. One only had two options. Passed or failed. He was a freaking slave driver. And to think Sinclair loved literature. All along she thought it was the easiest of amongst her major subjects but it was not. The research, the debate, and the dissection of each piece were mind-boggling. On top of that, she had to make a thesis with one old poem, and from there a short story with a minimum of seventy thousand words.Basically, a novel. Who in their right mind would do that? Him. Her professor. -Wait? What?- Where did that thought come from? Well, she didn't mean it like that. She meant in a purely professional way. This conversation with hers
SinclairNothing and no one could change her good mood today. Not even those wannabe spice girls.The extra money from last night made her fill her cupboards. It had been a while since she had indulged in grocery shopping. And the breakfast delivered anonymously, it was obviously from a top-notched restaurant, filled her tummy to the brim.Having extra shillings, made her buy her favorite lip gloss. Of course, it was cheap but it did wonderful things to her lips. Making her feel pretty, too.She had a few bucks left, the money was budgeted until payday.In high spirits and about to reach her locker, her happy steps faltered. From the corner of her eye, she saw Sandy, from her class walking a bit too close to...Professor Stafford. Cozy. Sinclair thought bitterly. They came out of the teacher's lounge at this early hour. When most likely no one was about. The girl was smilin
Sinclair -Later, sweet?- What did he mean by that? Nope. She was not going to wait and find out. Home was where she should be. Far from the tempting professor. She was almost out of the building when her path was blocked by Sandy and the spice girls. -Really? Isn't this overrated?- This was so old school. "What does he see in you, Chinese girl?" God! No originality. Sinclair was tempted to speak in Mandarin to prove her point. But she didn't know the language. A pity. -Old mother English it is then.- "Chinese girl, really? That's the best you can come up with?" That gave her nemesis a pause. Oh, the bitch was trying to think with her fish brain for a good comeback. "You are nothing. We don't even know your name. You are poor, deaf, and...and...
Warning Explicit Language and Scenes 18+ Sinclair All her instinct were telling her to run from him. From Nicholas. He was her professor and if the school administration found out... Wait. What would they find out? They were not even dating. He had not asked her out. And even if he did, she would say no. She didn't want to embarrass him. Though there were those not-so-innocent touches, holding her hands, embracing her to give her comfort, bussing her cheek and forehead, he always acted like a gentleman. Maybe this was how he acted with his lady friends? He must have lots of them, her mood turned sour. She hated imagining it but he was not hers, to begin with. After his friend fitted the earpiece and made necessary adjustments on her new medical aid, Nicholas had insisted on coming home with her despite her vehement protests.
Nicholas -Sinclair. My sweet.- It was never his intention to leave her at the break of dawn while she was sleeping. She was not a one-time thing and she was not his latest mistress. She was more than that. Much much more. Breakfast in bed would have been much better. Literally and figuratively. But dinner in bed was incredible. He reheated their take-outs and fed her despite her protests. There was nothing more fulfilling than watching his woman eat. Sated and content, they fell asleep in her small bed. And as he had predicted, she was draped on top of him because of the confined space. He wasn't complaining. He even looked forward to doing it again and he had hoped to occupy his mammoth four-poster bed instead the next time. This morning though, he groaned at the discomfort, stretching the kinks in his muscles. Yup, the stiffness in his shoulders and
Sinclair -I told you, didn't I?- She had made the most stupid mistake of her life despite her warnings. She trusted. She loved. She fell. And he was not there to catch her. She should have known better. The problem was she gave precedence to the chemicals emitting from her brain whenever he was around. Fuck attraction! Look where it landed her. She was once again back to that old box questioning her worth. After years of self-therapy, fear had crept over her once more. She was as unbalanced as she was when the people she cared for the most left her at a tender age. She was definitely worthless. -Stop! You are not!- The last text she received from him was three days ago. He said there was a family emergency. Yeah, right. She was sure he used that same exact excuse before.
NicholasGod! He was dead tired. The responsibilities resting on his shoulders were overwhelming.His father was a distinguished member of London's Aristocracy. His internment and the place where he was laid to rest had to befit his station in life.With friends at the club and with his solicitors' help, everything went smoothly as planned.The only important thing missing was his Sinclair. Five fucking days. He didn't receive one text from her. Not even a missed call. Nothing.His imagination was running wild. He told her there was a family emergency. No response. What could she be up to?Was she eating well? Did she get sick? He tried his best to sneak out but it was fucking impossible.Nobility from all over England kept arriving. Some stayed until the funeral. His duty was to stand beside his mother and support her in her