Chapter Eight
"Where are your parents? Do they know about your grandma?" Zac asked.
"My parents are in Paris, France, and no, they don't know about my grandma."
"Are they on vacation? When are they coming back?" Zac persisted.
"They're not on vacation and they're not coming back." I answered with no emotion.
"Why not?"
"They live there. Forever."
"Oh." Zac said quietly. "So you and your sister are stuck here?"
"Yup."
"That's gotta suck."
"It sure does."
"Does she like, beat you up and stuff?"
"She hasn't yet, but I wouldn't be surprised if she did any day now."
"It must be horrible living like that." Tay said.
"You get used to it after a while."
"Are you affraid of her?"
"I was at first, but not anymore. I'll just run away if it gets too serious. I've done it before and I'm not affraid to do it again."
"Ever since she poisioned your food, do yu eat regularly? Aren't you affraid she'll do it again?" Zac questioned.
"I'm terribly affraid she'll do that again." I didn't answer the eating regularly part.
"Do you eat three meals?" He repeated. I looked down at my hands.
"I- sometimes."
"Have you eaten today?" Tay asked.
"No." He checked out my stomach.
"Did you eat yesterday?"
"No."
"The day before?!" I shook my head no.
"How do you not eat?"
"Pills."
"You live on pills?!"
"Basically."
"If she does attack, you're not gonna have enough strenght to do anything. Even Zac could take her."
"Hey!" Zac pushed Taylor over.
"I wouldn't be surprised if she even broke something." He looked down at his ice cream. "Can you eat this?" He asked me.
"No."
"Why not?"
"For one thing- it's yours. And another, if I eat anything, it'll break the fasting stage and I'll have a heck of a time controlling the hunger to eat anything in sight."
"Well, maybe your grandma needs to go grocery shopping again." He smiled. I heard the front door opening, and Kaitlin's voice downstairs.
"Oh my god my grandma's home. You have to act like you don't know me." I said frantically, panicing. "Bye guys." I ran out of the room and entered an empty one three doors down and began working. I heard my grandma climbing the stairs. She opened the door to the room I was in and found me making the beds.
"Angelique." She snapped. I heard the Green room's door open, then close, and the Blue room's- next door- open and close. "Angelique." She snapped again. "You look and answer me when I'm talking to you."
"Yes grandma." I stopped what I was doing and faced her.
"Were you talking to those three boys while I was gone?"
"No grandma."
"Don't you lie to me! Were- you- talking- to- those- three- boys?" She punctuated each word.
"No grandma." I repeated.
"Don't you lie to me girl!!" She shouted.
"I'm not lying!" Uh-oh. Wrong move. She narrowed her eyes and walked towards me, trapping me between the wall and her self.
"Don't you lie to me! Ever!" She slapped my face. I inhaled a deep breath and tried to controll my anger. She was strong for her age.
"Fine!" I shouted in her face. "What if I did talk to them?" I narrowed my eyes and threatened in a challenging tone.
"Don't you take that tone with me." She slapped me again.
"What if I did talk to them?" I repeated again, in the same challenging tone. I couldn't turn around now. I had to fight. She always carried a cane, even though she never needed it. Today was the first time she ever used it. She swung it at me. It made contact with my left set of ribs. I pushed her away. I stumbled for the door, but I tripped on the blankets I had left on the floor. The cain came across my back. A sharp cry escaped me. The cain came down again and again, making contact time and time again. Finally when I started crying a couple minutes later, then did she stop.
"Never talk to them again, or I swear to God I'll kill you myself." She left the room. I slowly pushed myself up, eventually standing. I walked quietly out of the room and began running, as best I could, anyway. It was more of a limp walk type thing. I went past the Blue and Green room. At the top of the stairs, did the boys come out and watch me walk as best I could down the stairs. I ran- if you could call it that- out to the pool house and closed the door behind me. I shrank down and cried. But I had to stop- it caused too much pain. I heard the door open, then Taylor was at my side.
"Oh my God- she beat you didn't she." All I could do was nod. "And it's all my fault- you were right."
"I- I- tried to t- -t-tell her that I h- h- hadn't, but she didn't believe me. It wouldn't have m- m- mattered if I h- h- had or not." I said between sobs. I held my ribs. They hurt so much. I sucked in a deep breath. Tay wiped my tears away with his finger and tucked the stray strands of hair behind my ear.
"Are you hurt badly?" I shrugged, but cringed in pain. "Stay here. I'll go get my dad." He ran from the pool house. I tried to get myself under controll. A few minutes, Both Walker and Tay came rushing back.
"Is she hurt bad?" I heard Walker say.
"I don't know. She didn't say." They entered the pool house.
"What's her name?"
"Angelique."
"Angelique. Hey there. It's Walker Hanson. I'm here to help you." I didn't reply. "Can you stand up?" He reached down and helped me up. I stayed off my right leg.
"She's favoring her right leg dad."
"Tay, hold her up." He wrapped his arms around me under my arms. Walker ran his hand down my leg. At my knee, I cringed and grabbed Tay's shoulder.
"I think that's a spot." Tay said to his dad. He felt around my knee. My grip on Tay's shoulder got stronger and stronger.
"I think that knee alone should be seen by a professional doctor."
"I know she was holding her left ribs when I came in." Tay reported. Walker toutched my ribs. My grip tightened again. "I think that's a spot too." Walker nodded.
"It dodesn't feel too good. We'd better get her to a doctor. Angelique. Where's the nearest hospital?"
"Timber Grove." I replied shortly.
"I'll take her to the car and you go tell your brothers." He nodded, gave me to Walker and took off in a dead run for the house. Walker carried me to his van and started the engine. Tay came back out with his brothers behind him. They jumped in and we took off.
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