Chapter 2
When Grace walked into the house, cigarette smoke stung her nose and eyes and the smell of alcohol wafting from a garbage bag full of empty beer cans made her gag. The sound of angry shouting came from the other end of the house. Trying to block it out, Grace hurried upstairs.
She had lived with her father and step-mother ever since her mother had died when she was five. It was a horrible place to live. Both her father and step-mother were constantly drinking and though they hadn't been particularly violent yet, things were steadily getting worse.
Grace closed her door behind her and sighed heavily, still able to hear the shouting downstairs. She looked around her room. The walls were covered with ancient, grayish wood panels and everything felt dreary and cramped because the room was so small. The only bright spots were a few Pirates and Orlando Bloom pictures that Grace had hanging up, but even those were ripped and badly crinkled from being torn down repeatedly during her parents' drunken rages.
Grace didn't even bother to go down to supper that night and was glad when no one seemed to notice. Once all arguments had finally come to a temporary end late in the night and the house was quiet, Grace crawled into bed. She glanced at her Will Turner figure that she'd put on her nightstand like Brenda had said and pulled her leather coat up near her pillow. She thought of how babyish it seemed, but sleeping with the coat made her feel more secure.
Grace woke the next morning to shouting as usual. This time, however, it was her father shouting at her.
"Grace, get down here and help your mother make breakfast!"
He sounded quite angry so Grace got out of bed quickly and started dressing.
"I'll be down in a minute!" Grace called and the muttered to herself, "She's not my mother."
Grace's morning was full of difficultly. First she had to be at the beck and call of her cranky step-mother who wouldn't stop complaining about the terrible headache she had and then Grace had to entertain her three year old half sister, Ella, who was as cranky and demanding as her mother. I should just call her Elizabeth, Grace thought.
Around noon, Grace ran out to her truck and arrived late at work for the fourth time that month. She was glad that Randy was such an understanding manager otherwise she would have gotten fired months ago.
Work was much more enjoyable than life at home. Grace very much enjoyed the people she worked with even though Wal-mart was not her ideal place to work. The day went faster than Grace wanted and before she knew it, she and Brenda were walking out to their vehicles that night. When they reached the employee parking lot, Grace stopped and looked at her truck. Plastic shrink wrap was wrapped all around it and Grace could see that the cab was stuffed full of balloons. One the back window was a message. 'Happy Belated Birthday, Grace!' Grace just shook her head and then turned to the sound of laughter.
"You're going to regret this, Paul, when your birthday comes around," Grace told the guy laughing.
Grace had always thought of Paul as her big brother in her "Wal-mart family" and referred to him as a lovable pain-in-the-neck. This was just the kind of thing he would do.
"We used two rolls of shrink wrap," Paul informed her gleefully.
"Just you wait. I might use four on your car," Grace warned.
It took around a whole half an hour for Grace and Brenda to remove all the shrink wrap. It went faster when they forced Paul to help them, but it didn't really matter because they laughed the whole time anyway.
Grace was in a pretty happy mood by the time she got home, but all that happiness evaporated the second she entered the house. It was no surprise that her parents were fighting, but it sounded especially bad this time. Grace tried to sneak upstairs, but the floorboards creaked in the entryway and her father called her into the living room.
"Where have you been?" he demanded. "It's late."
"I always work late on Saturdays," Grace told him.
"Not any more you're not."
"I can't choose the shift I get."
"Then you'll quit."
"I can't quit. I need the money."
"You will quit."
"No," Grace foolishly tried to resist.
Before she could react, Grace's father stepped forward and hit her hard. Surprised, she lost her balance and stumbled back against a dresser slamming her forearm against the edge. Pain tingled from her elbow down to her fingertips and the left side of her face burned. Once she had her wits about her again, Grace glared at her father and finally fled the room. He shouted for her to come back, but she ran up to her room and locked the door behind her. She tired to hold them back, but hot tears spilled from her eyes, stinging her bruised cheek.
"I can't do this anymore," she murmured in a choked voice. Now that her father had hit her, she knew it would happen again.
Grace curled up at the head of her bed and wrapped her arms around her leather coat as she had a good cry, something she hadn't done in a while.
One more chapter like this one and then things will get good! Reviews are very much appreciated!
