Author's Note: So... it's been so long since I updated that I had gotten all the pictures for this chapter before I realized that Desiree was wearing something completely different last chapter... and this one is supposed to be a continuation of the last one. I had thought about retaking all the pictures with Desiree's correct outfit on, but since it's already been so long since this story has been updated, I am going to just leave her with the clothes she has. I doubt if anyone reading actually cares that much about her outfit, LOL, so yeah... but I felt like I should say something anyway. ^_^
Leaving the comic book store had not been easy for me, even though to Armand, it probably looked like it was. I silently chastised myself for always giving into the person who had text messaged me and called me, all in a matter of five minutes. I could feel that normal pang of guilt that always coursed through my bloodstream every time I gave in to his demands, but today there was something else too, a small feeling of disappointment. I hadn't wanted to leave Armand, but yet I had. For once in my life, I had met someone whom I thought might be a good friend to me, and I couldn't even work up the courage to make up an excuse to stay longer with him. The way Armand had smiled at me, and gently placed his hand on my arm when I became defensive made me feel warm inside. Normally, when I get defensive, it usually turns the conversation sour, and whomever I'm talking to no longer wants to talk to me. I know my social awkwardness is a barrier for me when it comes to making friends, but I am glad that I still tried with Armand. After I bumped into him so inappropriately, I was mortified, and I panicked, thinking that he would just be so upset with me. I can't believe I basically just rubbed my butt up against him. My cheeks turned warm, and I knew my face was red from blushing at the very thought. I find him attractive, especially the way his light blue eyes radiate, almost like they're neon lights on a street. He probably doesn't think the same of me, though, and I don't know why he would, I'm so plain, and he's so... not. He's completely out of my league, but I am so happy that he could be a potential friend.
I felt pretty embarrassed when he had to save me from that bully, and I had never met a guy who was so skilled in the art of chivalry in these modern times. The way Armand addressed me when he didn't yet know my first name made my heart melt into a giant puddle. Miss Butchet. I was glad I was already seated when he said that because knowing my clumsy nature, I probably would have literally fallen over from the sound of his voice being so kind. I'm not proud to say it, but I have been very sheltered and have been taught to have a very narrow minded view of the world. Even though I'm eighteen now, in a lot of ways, I still feel like a little child. My parents are very strict, my father, more than my mother, but she goes along with his rules, often times enforcing them on me because he told her to. My father is very much in charge of our family, and that is a fact. When Father says jump, the correct response is how high. If that's not the response he receives, there is a guaranteed punishment that awaits, and I don't just mean a simple grounding or a time out, punishments are serious. My father used to be the headmaster of a Catholic school, and he would occasionally hit me on the wrist with a ruler, which is what I would have preferred to be my punishment all the time. I wasn't so lucky though because a belt to the back was what I would also be punished with. He's conditioned me to be fearful, timid, and I am very certain that's also how my social awkwardness developed.
I don't really know how to talk to people, or rather, what to talk to them about because I haven't experienced a lot of normal things in life. I rebelled a little in my early teen years, and that's when the belt lashings occurred. I had tried dating a boy in my school who was very nice, but my father didn't approve of us doing teenage things like going to the movies, making out, and going to parties. I had come home one night from a party, after my boyfriend had walked me home to make sure I was safe, but he had no idea what he was getting himself into. My father had stormed down the front steps and shoved my boyfriend so hard he bruised his arm on the sidewalk, telling him to never step foot on this property ever again. I had to sleep on my stomach all night because my back and sides were so sore from the wounds inflicted by the belt. The next morning when I went to school, I knew my relationship was over because my boyfriend ignored me when he saw me, walking quickly away from me if he caught a glimpse of me. I can't say I blamed him for doing that, considering how my father had manhandled him. Who wants to date the girl with the father who seems like he's crazy? After that relationship failed, I just resigned myself to the fact that I was probably going to end up alone forever because I wasn't worth fighting for, and my father wasn't going to let up any time soon.
"Desiree Irene Butchet, I am severely unhappy with you in this moment. When you didn't answer my texts, I was worried you had been involved in some unsavory activities. I was relieved that you answered the phone call, however."
"Father, I was just talking to a new friend, and I lost track of time. I was having a good time with him, and I didn't want to leave just yet."
"HIM?! Desiree, what have I told you about hanging out with the opposite sex when it gets dark?! Do you want to be in danger?! I can't believe you are always this stupid!"
"He's not a dangerous person! He was just talking to me."
"Where were you?"
"I was at... at the comic book store."
I cringed after saying this because something else my father doesn't approve of just as much as me hanging around with boys is me being an art major. He hates that I use spray paint, which is the "medium of the heathens," and he wishes I was studying to be in a service career. My father rubbed the bridge of his nose like he was incredibly irritated with what I had just said, and just when I thought things couldn't get any worse, my cheek stung from his hand making contact with it.
"OW!!"
"Why do you continue to defy me, Desiree? Haven't I told you the comic book store is not a good place for you to go?! I have already let you study art as you wish, so must you hang out there? That's where all the heathens go, with their skateboards and tattooed bodies. It's unclean, Desiree."
I sighed in my head when my father mentioned 'heathens' and 'tattooed bodies.' If what I was starting to feel towards Armand was truly real, I could never bring him home to my parents and have them approve... all because he had tattoos on his arms. He was so nice though, but I had only talked to him twice, maybe I was jumping the gun in thinking I had feelings for him. I figured it was safe to say I at least had a small crush on him.
"Desiree? Have you even heard a word I've said? I swear, your attention span is worse than that of your mother's."
"Yes, Father I heard you. You don't want me to go to the comic book store because it's not good for my soul."
My father looked surprised that I had grasped what he was telling me. I of course, didn't agree with him, I enjoyed the comic book store because I felt like it was the one place where I didn't feel judged. People of all kinds hung out there, and as much as I hated to say it, sometimes it was a gathering spot for the socially awkward, which meant I fit in quite well.
"All right, you're home now and you're not hurt, so run along until your mother has dinner ready."
My father went into his office, and I headed to the kitchen, where I found my mother running around the room cooking. She looked like she had been transported into modern times from the 1950s, with her perfectly ironed dress and apron. I don't know why she bought into Father's view of women, which was the typical cook and clean for the husband attitude. I doubted that she actually enjoyed being his doormat, but like me, she was probably afraid of him and openly telling him off was not an option either one of us wanted to pursue. I found small ways to rebel against my father, but in the end, they didn't do much. I hoped someday I would be able to at least find my own husband and leave the life my father had created for me. Maybe if I was married, my father would be less controlling over where I was and who I was with. I sighed to myself, wishing I didn't have that thought... I didn't need to be married to be a functional woman. Just because my father was archaic didn't mean I had to be.
"Desiree, darling, how are you?"
"I'm fine, Mother. Do you need any help?"
"Oh no, I'm doing quite well. I wouldn't mind if I had some company though. Your father is ever so busy to spend time with little old me while I'm preparing dinner."
My mother's speech patterns were endearing, even though I found her odd sometimes when she spoke that way. I didn't know much about how she grew up, but I imagined her being from a very proper family with the way she carried herself. Both sets of my grandparents hadn't been around much, and I think both of them had already died... or was it that they moved away, honestly I didn't know. I hung out next to the kitchen island while Mother cooked.
"So, dear, how was your day? Anything exciting happen at school?"
"I had class as normal, and I went to the comic book store. I was there when Father called."
"The comic book store? Oh, Desiree, I'm sorry if your father yelled at you for that again."
"He did, and thank you for the sympathy."
"Honestly, dearie, I don't know why you like that place, but I'm not going to be so crass as to tell you where you should or shouldn't hang out, as long as you don't get yourself into a pickle while you're there."
"Thank you, Mom."
Mom put a mixing bowl on the counter in front of me and lovingly touched my cheek, looking at me with concern in her eyes. She was a strange woman, but I knew she loved me. Suddenly, after she finished touching my cheek, she got a glazed over look in her eyes, and then she stepped back.
"Oh, Desiree. Something sinister happened on campus, didn't it?"
I sighed and tried not to roll my eyes at her. I knew what she was doing and I wasn't sure I bought it, but wierdly, parts of it were sometimes true. My mom claimed that she could see visions, or get a 'sense' of something just from touching a person. She would say that she got visions about the person's environment, or what they had been through that day. She kept this part of herself hidden from Father because he would no doubt disapprove and call it the devil's work. She shared some of it with me, but she knew I didn't believe her fully, as much as she tried to convince me.
"Yes, a student died. A sorority girl. Reese Coorlee."
My mother got a glint in her eyes that I couldn't quite place, but it looked a little bit like happiness, which was disconcerting, considering I had just told her someone's life had ended.
"Was this the same girl who was bullying you the other day?"
"Yeah... why?"
There it was! That glint again! My mother smirked a little bit as she picked up the mixing bowl and continued to cook.
"Why? Well. just curious of course, darling. I like to know what is going on in my baby's life. I think that girl got what was coming to her."
"Got what was coming to her? What are you talking about, Mom? She died of an eating disorder."
"Oh, honey... no she didn't..."
"Mom? Did you do something? Did you poison her?"
"Of course not, dear. I couldn't have gone into the campus undetected. I don't look like a college student. I have much more effective means other than poison."
Oh no... not this again. In addition to my mother thinking she had visions of things, and attempting to tell me my fortune on numerous occasions, she also claimed she could cast spells on people without even being near them. I don't know why she had been so adamant about believing that stuff, but it was something that she was hooked on.
"So you're saying you used witchcraft to kill her because she bullied me? Mom... that's not possible. Witchcraft isn't real. Also, you can't just kill people because they are mean to me."
"Oh darling! Witchcraft is real. Just because you don't believe in something doesn't make it cease to exist. I cast a spell on that girl, Reese Coorlee."
"Ugh, Mom. She died because she had an eating disorder. When she bullied me she was making fun of my weight, so she clearly had body image issues. It makes sense."
"You keep telling yourself that, dear, but I know the truth, and one day you will see it too. Anyway, the food is ready, will you do your mother a favor, and retrieve the rest of the family for dinner?"
I nodded, shaking my head as I got off the bar stool and went down the hallway towards my father's office. I loved my mother, but sometimes she sounded downright insane. I really wondered what went through that head of hers. Maybe too many years spent being married to an overbearing Catholic priest had caused her mind to snap.
Leaving the comic book store had not been easy for me, even though to Armand, it probably looked like it was. I silently chastised myself for always giving into the person who had text messaged me and called me, all in a matter of five minutes. I could feel that normal pang of guilt that always coursed through my bloodstream every time I gave in to his demands, but today there was something else too, a small feeling of disappointment. I hadn't wanted to leave Armand, but yet I had. For once in my life, I had met someone whom I thought might be a good friend to me, and I couldn't even work up the courage to make up an excuse to stay longer with him. The way Armand had smiled at me, and gently placed his hand on my arm when I became defensive made me feel warm inside. Normally, when I get defensive, it usually turns the conversation sour, and whomever I'm talking to no longer wants to talk to me. I know my social awkwardness is a barrier for me when it comes to making friends, but I am glad that I still tried with Armand. After I bumped into him so inappropriately, I was mortified, and I panicked, thinking that he would just be so upset with me. I can't believe I basically just rubbed my butt up against him. My cheeks turned warm, and I knew my face was red from blushing at the very thought. I find him attractive, especially the way his light blue eyes radiate, almost like they're neon lights on a street. He probably doesn't think the same of me, though, and I don't know why he would, I'm so plain, and he's so... not. He's completely out of my league, but I am so happy that he could be a potential friend.
I felt pretty embarrassed when he had to save me from that bully, and I had never met a guy who was so skilled in the art of chivalry in these modern times. The way Armand addressed me when he didn't yet know my first name made my heart melt into a giant puddle. Miss Butchet. I was glad I was already seated when he said that because knowing my clumsy nature, I probably would have literally fallen over from the sound of his voice being so kind. I'm not proud to say it, but I have been very sheltered and have been taught to have a very narrow minded view of the world. Even though I'm eighteen now, in a lot of ways, I still feel like a little child. My parents are very strict, my father, more than my mother, but she goes along with his rules, often times enforcing them on me because he told her to. My father is very much in charge of our family, and that is a fact. When Father says jump, the correct response is how high. If that's not the response he receives, there is a guaranteed punishment that awaits, and I don't just mean a simple grounding or a time out, punishments are serious. My father used to be the headmaster of a Catholic school, and he would occasionally hit me on the wrist with a ruler, which is what I would have preferred to be my punishment all the time. I wasn't so lucky though because a belt to the back was what I would also be punished with. He's conditioned me to be fearful, timid, and I am very certain that's also how my social awkwardness developed.
I don't really know how to talk to people, or rather, what to talk to them about because I haven't experienced a lot of normal things in life. I rebelled a little in my early teen years, and that's when the belt lashings occurred. I had tried dating a boy in my school who was very nice, but my father didn't approve of us doing teenage things like going to the movies, making out, and going to parties. I had come home one night from a party, after my boyfriend had walked me home to make sure I was safe, but he had no idea what he was getting himself into. My father had stormed down the front steps and shoved my boyfriend so hard he bruised his arm on the sidewalk, telling him to never step foot on this property ever again. I had to sleep on my stomach all night because my back and sides were so sore from the wounds inflicted by the belt. The next morning when I went to school, I knew my relationship was over because my boyfriend ignored me when he saw me, walking quickly away from me if he caught a glimpse of me. I can't say I blamed him for doing that, considering how my father had manhandled him. Who wants to date the girl with the father who seems like he's crazy? After that relationship failed, I just resigned myself to the fact that I was probably going to end up alone forever because I wasn't worth fighting for, and my father wasn't going to let up any time soon.
As I approach my house, I notice the porch light is on, and I can see my father pacing in the front hallway. I can't tell if he does what he does out of love, or if he secretly hates me deep down inside his heart. I don't know why he has to be so strict, other than his Catholic upbringing, which he has enforced on our family. He's now a priest at the church, after he quit the headmaster job. When I get to the front door, I stop momentarily, very sure that I don't want to go inside, yet knowing full well that I must. I turn the knob and push the door open, looking at the floor as I do because I can't bear to see the disappointment, anger, and twisted features that I just know are on my father's face.
"Desiree Irene Butchet, I am severely unhappy with you in this moment. When you didn't answer my texts, I was worried you had been involved in some unsavory activities. I was relieved that you answered the phone call, however."
"Father, I was just talking to a new friend, and I lost track of time. I was having a good time with him, and I didn't want to leave just yet."
"HIM?! Desiree, what have I told you about hanging out with the opposite sex when it gets dark?! Do you want to be in danger?! I can't believe you are always this stupid!"
"He's not a dangerous person! He was just talking to me."
"Where were you?"
"I was at... at the comic book store."
I cringed after saying this because something else my father doesn't approve of just as much as me hanging around with boys is me being an art major. He hates that I use spray paint, which is the "medium of the heathens," and he wishes I was studying to be in a service career. My father rubbed the bridge of his nose like he was incredibly irritated with what I had just said, and just when I thought things couldn't get any worse, my cheek stung from his hand making contact with it.
"OW!!"
"Why do you continue to defy me, Desiree? Haven't I told you the comic book store is not a good place for you to go?! I have already let you study art as you wish, so must you hang out there? That's where all the heathens go, with their skateboards and tattooed bodies. It's unclean, Desiree."
I sighed in my head when my father mentioned 'heathens' and 'tattooed bodies.' If what I was starting to feel towards Armand was truly real, I could never bring him home to my parents and have them approve... all because he had tattoos on his arms. He was so nice though, but I had only talked to him twice, maybe I was jumping the gun in thinking I had feelings for him. I figured it was safe to say I at least had a small crush on him.
"Desiree? Have you even heard a word I've said? I swear, your attention span is worse than that of your mother's."
"Yes, Father I heard you. You don't want me to go to the comic book store because it's not good for my soul."
My father looked surprised that I had grasped what he was telling me. I of course, didn't agree with him, I enjoyed the comic book store because I felt like it was the one place where I didn't feel judged. People of all kinds hung out there, and as much as I hated to say it, sometimes it was a gathering spot for the socially awkward, which meant I fit in quite well.
"All right, you're home now and you're not hurt, so run along until your mother has dinner ready."
My father went into his office, and I headed to the kitchen, where I found my mother running around the room cooking. She looked like she had been transported into modern times from the 1950s, with her perfectly ironed dress and apron. I don't know why she bought into Father's view of women, which was the typical cook and clean for the husband attitude. I doubted that she actually enjoyed being his doormat, but like me, she was probably afraid of him and openly telling him off was not an option either one of us wanted to pursue. I found small ways to rebel against my father, but in the end, they didn't do much. I hoped someday I would be able to at least find my own husband and leave the life my father had created for me. Maybe if I was married, my father would be less controlling over where I was and who I was with. I sighed to myself, wishing I didn't have that thought... I didn't need to be married to be a functional woman. Just because my father was archaic didn't mean I had to be.
"Desiree, darling, how are you?"
"I'm fine, Mother. Do you need any help?"
"Oh no, I'm doing quite well. I wouldn't mind if I had some company though. Your father is ever so busy to spend time with little old me while I'm preparing dinner."
My mother's speech patterns were endearing, even though I found her odd sometimes when she spoke that way. I didn't know much about how she grew up, but I imagined her being from a very proper family with the way she carried herself. Both sets of my grandparents hadn't been around much, and I think both of them had already died... or was it that they moved away, honestly I didn't know. I hung out next to the kitchen island while Mother cooked.
"So, dear, how was your day? Anything exciting happen at school?"
"I had class as normal, and I went to the comic book store. I was there when Father called."
"The comic book store? Oh, Desiree, I'm sorry if your father yelled at you for that again."
"He did, and thank you for the sympathy."
"Honestly, dearie, I don't know why you like that place, but I'm not going to be so crass as to tell you where you should or shouldn't hang out, as long as you don't get yourself into a pickle while you're there."
"Thank you, Mom."
Mom put a mixing bowl on the counter in front of me and lovingly touched my cheek, looking at me with concern in her eyes. She was a strange woman, but I knew she loved me. Suddenly, after she finished touching my cheek, she got a glazed over look in her eyes, and then she stepped back.
"Oh, Desiree. Something sinister happened on campus, didn't it?"
I sighed and tried not to roll my eyes at her. I knew what she was doing and I wasn't sure I bought it, but wierdly, parts of it were sometimes true. My mom claimed that she could see visions, or get a 'sense' of something just from touching a person. She would say that she got visions about the person's environment, or what they had been through that day. She kept this part of herself hidden from Father because he would no doubt disapprove and call it the devil's work. She shared some of it with me, but she knew I didn't believe her fully, as much as she tried to convince me.
"Yes, a student died. A sorority girl. Reese Coorlee."
My mother got a glint in her eyes that I couldn't quite place, but it looked a little bit like happiness, which was disconcerting, considering I had just told her someone's life had ended.
"Was this the same girl who was bullying you the other day?"
"Yeah... why?"
There it was! That glint again! My mother smirked a little bit as she picked up the mixing bowl and continued to cook.
"Why? Well. just curious of course, darling. I like to know what is going on in my baby's life. I think that girl got what was coming to her."
"Got what was coming to her? What are you talking about, Mom? She died of an eating disorder."
"Oh, honey... no she didn't..."
"Mom? Did you do something? Did you poison her?"
"Of course not, dear. I couldn't have gone into the campus undetected. I don't look like a college student. I have much more effective means other than poison."
Oh no... not this again. In addition to my mother thinking she had visions of things, and attempting to tell me my fortune on numerous occasions, she also claimed she could cast spells on people without even being near them. I don't know why she had been so adamant about believing that stuff, but it was something that she was hooked on.
"So you're saying you used witchcraft to kill her because she bullied me? Mom... that's not possible. Witchcraft isn't real. Also, you can't just kill people because they are mean to me."
"Oh darling! Witchcraft is real. Just because you don't believe in something doesn't make it cease to exist. I cast a spell on that girl, Reese Coorlee."
"Ugh, Mom. She died because she had an eating disorder. When she bullied me she was making fun of my weight, so she clearly had body image issues. It makes sense."
"You keep telling yourself that, dear, but I know the truth, and one day you will see it too. Anyway, the food is ready, will you do your mother a favor, and retrieve the rest of the family for dinner?"
I nodded, shaking my head as I got off the bar stool and went down the hallway towards my father's office. I loved my mother, but sometimes she sounded downright insane. I really wondered what went through that head of hers. Maybe too many years spent being married to an overbearing Catholic priest had caused her mind to snap.
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