My House is NOT Haunted

Whitney’s P.O.V
“Get off me, you b-”

I cut Brooklyn off by slapping her across the face. Boy, I was enjoying myself. It was Brook’s first day of martial arts, and I was beating the stuffing out of her. Now, in martial arts, we don’t to a whole lot, except sparring. You know, now that I think about it, it’s not really martial arts, just learning every possible way to beat someone up without weapons. Hand-to-hand. Mano-y-mano. You get it.

I couldn’t help but grin when her face whipped to the side, and back at me. Yeah, I was lucky enough to get paired with her, seeing as we were the only two girls. It was a little relief, actually, since I usually sparred with Taylor or Aiden. And the thing is, I’d been there for over a month, so Southern Belle was getting her butt whipped.

I obliged her cut-off request, mainly because I was bored and wanted to beat her up some more. And, truthfully, you can’t do a ton of damage to a girl when she’s pinned down.

Slowly, she stood up, and braced for another one of my attacks. I almost giggled at the sight of her. Her mousy brown hair escaped from her ponytail, and she had a couple nasty marks on her that would become bruises later on. I, on the other hand, didn’t have a scratch on me. Think about how it would look if a Chihuahua decided to fight a pit bull.

Noticing I wasn’t going after her, she sneered, “What? You too scared to fight a southern girl?”

Now, thatI had to laugh at. “Are you serious? You can barely walk! And you’re calling me a coward? Honestly, how hard is it to get a decent opponent around here?”

She lunged at me, but I easily sidestepped her, and kicked her in the back. She sprawled out onto the mats, and I heard her whimper. Serves her right.

The coach blew his whistle, signaling that class was over. Leaving Brooklyn lying on the mat, I walked over to my stuff, and took a large sip from my water bottle. Just as I was walking out the door, I realized that Brooklyn wasn’t getting up. Curious, but not really concerned, I walked over to her still form.

When I was close enough to her, I gasped. You’ve figured out by now that all we girls have to wear are sports bras and shorts, right? Standing over her, I saw that her entire back was covered in scars. It looked like she’d been beaten, more severely than what I’d done to her.

She stirred, and I knew that was my queue to leave. I walked back to my room to find Taylor digging in the drawers for something to wear, himself wearing (of course) nothing but a towel. I wasn’t in the mood to tease him about it, though, and that’s got to tell you something.

I walked over to the dresser, and pulled out something to wear before going to take a shower. I wasn’t going to make the mistake of walking around in nothing but a towel again.

As soon as I was out, Taylor said, “I’m surprised.”

Despite my mood, I asked, “About what?”

“Well, you took a hot shower, and didn’t melt. OW!”

I held the pillow I’d smacked him with above my head, ready to do it again if necessary. Just then, Brooklyn wobbled in, dragging her bag behind her. I didn’t say anything, but of course Taylor blurted, “Whoa. What happened to you?”

I elbowed him in the side. He was nothelping.

Brooklyn just stared at the ground. “I’m going to take a shower. Try not to get busy while I’m gone, ok?”

You know, it still amazes me that even in such a foul mood, she could still come up with a sarcastic remark. I rolled my eyes and walked over to my bed. When they moved in Brooklyn, they obviously needed to bring in another bed, and since Taylor didn’t want anyone murdered in their sleep, he took the middle one, while I took the one farthest from the bathroom.

I stared at the ceiling until I felt the bed sink under someone else’s weight. I looked up to see that that someone else was (fully clothed) Taylor. I cocked my head to the side, wondering what he wanted.

Noticing my unasked question, he said, “Whitney, look, I-”

He was cut off, yet again. This time, it was by Brooklyn’s shriek coming from the bathroom. Both our heads whipped to the door, where she stumbled out, wearing one towel around her body and one on her head. I raised an eyebrow before it finally hit me what had happened.

I giggled, while the two just stared at me. “Oops. Did I use up all the hot water again?”

-----

Brooklyn’s P.O.V

I scowled and walked back into the bathroom. Why does that Whitney girl have to be such a b*tch? I mean, I’d only been here one day and she was prancing around like she owned the place! It made me so mad.

And, if it wasn’t bad enough that I had to spar with her, I had to room with her, too! This place just keeps getting better and better, doesn’t it?

I was so stupid for going out that night in the first place.

~Flashback~

I’d just come home from the salon. The new girl, Kelly, talked me into it one day during class, and I figured a new looks couldn’t hurt. Instead of my fiery red hair, I decided to go with light brown, to try to, you know, blend in.

And, being the not-so-new girl anda bully, I kind of wanted to blend in for once.

I thought I’d looked great, until I got home.

Hewas there. When he saw me, he immediately punched me in the jaw, and probably would’ve shattered it if he hadn’t done it so many times before. In his other hand - the one that he hadn’t hit me with - was a bottle of some type of alcohol. Great. He was even worse when he was drunk.

“W-what’d you d-do to your h-hair, b*tch?” he stammered. Oh, man, he was reallydrunk.

I cringed away from him. “I got it colored. I just wanted to… blend in.”

“D-did I give y-you permission to d-do this? N-no!”

He pulled me by the shirt toward him. Once I was within arm’s reach, and couldn’t get away, he pulled my shirt up and off of me. Now wearing my bra, he smirked. The next thing I knew, he’d shattered the bottle on my back, tearing it open like he’d done hundreds of times before. I let out a small whimper, knowing what would happen if I screamed. I did not want to go through that again.

His blows didn’t stop there, though. His hands were now free, and he shoved me to the ground. I fell into the glass shards of the bottle, deepening the wounds in my back.

I couldn’t take this any longer. He was just about to straddle my hips when I kicked him where it hurts. He fell off, clutching his crotch. That was my escape.

I grabbed my shirt, and yanked it over my head. There was glass in it, but I had too much adrenaline pumping through my body to notice. I ran out the door, and clambered down the fire escape as fast as I could. I was almost down when I heard a loud ping on the metal beside me. He’d gotten the gun.

My legs pumped harder than I’d ever done before, as shots rang out into the night. Just before I was out of earshot, I heard him cry, “B-Brooklyn! Y-you come back right n-now or you’ll r-regret the d-day you were born!”

Ha. He had no idea how true that statement was.

As soon as I was around the corner, I stopped to catch my breath. He wouldn’t come after me, not if he was this drunk. I was just about to head down the street when someone grabbed me from behind. I tried to scream, but before I could make any sound something cold, metal, and very sharp was pressed up against my throat.

“Jack,” I heard a voice say from the shadows, “Nice one. Hm… She looks ok, save her.”

Apparently, Jack was the guy with the knife. He took a step away from me, and I tried to run. I didn’t get far, though. Someone hit me hard on the back of the head, and I blacked out.

~End Flashback~

As I thought about that night, I couldn’t help myself. I started to cry. My makeup hadn’t been washed off, since I hadn’t taken a shower yet. I knew it was going to start running, but, frankly, I didn’t care less.

I cried harder than I’d dared cry in weeks. Ever since I’d dated him. I cried for my mom, who died when I was so young that I didn’t even remember. I cried for my dad, who was never around and never cared about me. Lastly, I cried for myself.

I’d been through so much, and it hurt to think about. Maybe here, it would be a little better. Maybe I could get along with Whitney, and make some friends here. Maybe, eventually, I’ll forget about him.

“Hey, Southern Belle! Face it, that ugly face in the mirror is you. Now, get out! Some of us need to pee!”

Yeah, and maybe pigs will fly.