Chapter 2: A Harsh Homecoming
Upon returning home that night, David was met with the familiar contempt of Shiela Bringer. The lines on her face deepened into a scowl as soon as she looked at him, her annoyance evident.
“You’re late again, David,” she spat, her voice laced with venom. “This isn’t some hotel where you can come and go as you please.”
David remained silent, despite the harsh words thrown at him. Although Shiela was the one who dictated where and when he could work, she never failed to chastise him if he returned even a few minutes later than she permitted.
“Did you at least make any money tonight?” Shiela demanded, her eyes narrowing as she held out her hand expectantly. Her tone suggested she already knew the answer, but was eager to hear the confirmation from David’s lips.
David reached into his pocket, pulling out the few bills he had earned from washing dishes at the pub. Given the late hours and arduous work, his earnings were meager, but it was still something. He stifled his frustration and placed the bills into Shiela’s outstretched hand.
“This is it?” Shiela scoffed, examining the cash disdainfully. “You’re practically stealing from me, David. You live under my roof, eat my food, and this is how you repay me?”
David simply nodded, choosing not to counter her accusations. He knew that Shiela’s expectations were unreasonable, especially considering the circumstances. However, he also knew that attempting to reason with her would be futile.
“I expect more from you, David,” Shiela warned, her voice cold and unforgiving. “If you can’t contribute, you’re nothing more than a burden.”
With those final words, Shiela dismissed him, turning her attention back to the television.
David retreated to his small room, the sting of Shiela’s words still fresh in his mind. The bitterness in her voice was a familiar sound to him, a constant reminder of the resentment she harbored towards him. Despite the frequency of these verbal lashings, they always managed to sting.
The injustice of his predicament was not lost on him. His home, which should have been a haven of warmth and security, was instead a pit of tension and hostility. He was treated more like a servant than a member of the family, his every move scrutinized and criticized. But, he refused to let Shiela’s words break him.
He thought back on the stories he had heard at the pub, of how his parents had defied the odds and upset the old power structures in Dalton. The old man said that David’s parents had come from nothing. They had no money, no power, and no influence. Yet, they blazed a path for themselves and defeated the entrenched family empires at their own game.
If my parents could do it, maybe I can too…
At the very least, he needed to do something to change his circumstances. He couldn’t let Shiela’s scathing remarks, unfair demands, and constant mistreatment haunt him forever. He needed to take control of his life.
Copyright © 2024 by A. J. Knight
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