"I hate you," Tiffany's words lingered in her head. How can a man hate a child he birthed? Irene couldn't understand what was so special about her that made Rotham cherished her so much while he despised Tiffany?
One glance at the clock made her forget all she was thinking. She hurried to get ready for school. Mr Humphrey had announced that there would be a test today and whosoever was late would not take it. Her father wanted her to be the best archeologist in town. She couldn't let him down.
Within minutes, she had her bath and stood in front of the mirror, trying to put her hair up in a beautiful style. After many failed attempts, she let it fall down to her shoulders.
The dye she'd applied last night was gone like she never dyed it, in its place were her annoyingly ugly gold highlights. Just like the strange markings on her body, she hated the highlight.
That was what earned her the nickname Goldilocks.
She raised her pillow to take her clothes but they weren't there. She furrowed her brows in confusion. "Did I put them here?" She scratched her head.
Irene was certain that she'd neatly folded them and put them under her pillow so that by morning, she'd wear straight clothes, but they were nowhere to be found.
There was a slight knock on her door before it opened, and Tiffany came in, with a smile which made Irene uneasy.
"Tiffany, have you seen my clothes?" Irene asked.
"Tiffany gave her a one over and hissed.
"Am I your laundry man or do I sleep in your room?"
"I'm sorry," She apologized. "Maybe you'd seen it when you walked in earlier this morning."
Tiffany's lips parted like she wanted to say something but decided not to. Irene glanced at the clock, time was against her and she was yet to find her clothes. She turned her entire room upside down while Tiffany stood there with a smile.
"She knows where it is," a tiny voice said to Irene. How on earth would the clothes she'd taken her time to fold disappear whereas there was no stranger in the house.
Tiffany was satisfied with the fact that she had stalled Irene long enough. That way, she'd never make it to school in time, and she'd miss her test. If she couldn't go to school, she'd make sure Irene wasn't better off.
"I know where your clothes are." Tiffany said.
Irene quickly turned. "Where? Please, I need to leave as soon as possible."
"Oh, I thought they were dirty," Tiffany said, looking at her with feigned innocence. "So I helped you wash it."
The color drained from Irene's face. How... how could Tiffany do such a thing: she knew, she knew those clothes were clean yet she'd gone ahead to dip it in water. She didn't know whether to cry or yell at Tiffany who had a smirk on her face.
She only turned and walked to her drawer where she pulled out a dress that was very rumpled.
Oh well... there was nothing she could say or do to change what had already happened.
"You look much prettier in this." Tiffany laughed. "This is just the beginning of your lifetime suffering."
"Tiffany, what did I do to deserve this? Irene asked, fighting back her tears. "I've missed a major test because of you."
"Good," Tiffany smiled. "There's a lot more you'll miss, just wait and see."
The sounds of yelling downstairs interrupted them. Then came the sound of glass breaking.
They rushed downstairs to see what was wrong.
There, three men stood in the living room and their father, Rotam, was on his knees, begging.
"What's going on here?" Irene demanded, walking over to where her father knelt. She helped him up to his feet. "Get up, father."
"Your father—one of the three men pointed at him—"owes Lucian money and his loan is overdue."
"Father," she turned to him. "You said you wouldn't borrow again."
"Archaeology is a must," He cupped her cheek, tucking a strand of gold hair behind her ear. "I wanted you to study hard, I took the money to pay your fees."
"Of course, we are in trouble again because of Irene." Tiffany hissed in annoyance. "Congratulations, Irene." She glared at her.
Here she was begging to be put through dressmaking or cooking class but Rotam always told her he had no money. Yet, he was taking loans from vampires to see Irene through archeology class.
How nice! She couldn't understand her father's obsession with ancient artifacts and Irene had taken after him. Perhaps, she took after her late mother. But Rotam had never told them who or what their mother looked like.
"Please, my father is just a shopkeeper, we have no money." Said Irene. "Tell Lucian we'll pay him his money as soon as we get it."
The men exchanged glances, and laughed before their faces became void of any emotion. "Tell that to lord Lucian yourself." The other two came forward and grabbed hold of Rotam, pulling him away from Irene.
"You monsters! She tried to free him from their clutches. "Let my father go!"
"Get away you filth." One of the men shoved her aside, sending her crashing into a stool.
Regardless of the pain that plagued her stomach, she got up and ran after them, trying to stop them once more, as they bundled Rotam away but they shoved her aside and she struck her head against the wall.
Rotam was forcefully pushed into a carriage and the horses drove away. She crumpled to the floor, tears running down her cheeks, blood oozing out of the side of her head. Her father was going to be punished all because of her.
No! She wiped off her tears. She was the orchestrater of this problem, so she had to fix it.
Irene rushed out of the house, chasing after the carriage which was making its way to the most avoided place in Valcoria; the place of the immortals. She stopped to catch her breath as the carriage disappeared out of sight.
"Irene, you can't stop or else they'll hurt him." A voice echoed in her head.
She sucked in more air, took hold of each part of her skirt and ran, not stopping until she stood before the huge black gates that granted access into the grey mansion.
Void of colors and life, it made her skin crawl as she darted her eyes sideways lest someone crept up from behind and dug his fangs into her neck.
Rotam knelt at the foot of a man; a man that made her halt and look up at him. He smiled, his eyes so dangerous, and they held her gaze just like they had done in the museum.
"Irene Myers," the way he called out to her made shudder with fear. She snapped out of her daze. He knew her name! How?