Bitter Allies [Soap x Reader]
Chapter 17: Annette (pt. 2)
Summary: Soap continues to tell you about his childhood. Spoiler: it doesn’t get better.
Word Count: 6,455
Warnings: NSFW, 18+, swearing, strong language, depictions of child abuse, poor parenting, neglect, physical abuse, mental abuse, emotional abuse, childhood trauma
A/N: I am back! I got just a little writers block but I finally finished this chapter. I will not stop updating this story. It will be seen to completion!
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Bitter Allies • Chapter 17
As much as John hated it, life went on in the MacTavish house. He tried his best to avoid Annette at all costs, but of course with her living in their home, it was rather difficult. Especially when Annette was insistent on inserting herself into John's life whether he wanted her to or not.
She wasn't overtly cruel— not at first at least. She just tried too hard.
The second he got home from school, she was there at the door asking him about his day. If he sat in the kitchen to do homework, she was hovering to see if he needed help with his math. She would buy him clothes without asking him, pack him lunches with dumb little notes like he hadn't packed his own for the last year, invade his privacy by cleaning his room for him.
While all those things were nice things to do, the issue was that John had told her on multiple occasions not to do them. He didn't want new clothes, or help with homework, and he certainly could take care of himself enough to pack his own lunches and clean his own space. He didn't need her for those things yet she was insistent on doing them.
John started to do this homework upstairs in his room just to avoid her, but of course that didn't stop her from checking in on him either.
One afternoon, while he was working on a writing assignment, his door swung open without warning.
Annette didn't knock. She never did.
"Johnny?" She said with that overly sweet voice of hers. "Are you doing your school work?"
John didn't even look up. "Yes." He answers shortly.
"Oh." Annette says, taking a few steps closer to him. John can feel her looking over his shoulder. "Do you need help with your homework?"
"No."
"Are you sure? I was always pretty good at writing assignments when I was in school."
"I'm fine." He mutters, gripping his pencil a little tighter.
He hears her sigh, as if frustrated, and then instead of leaving, she places a hand on his shoulder. "Well then, why don't take a break and come help me with dinner? I could use an extra set of hands."
John tensed as she touched him. "I'm busy." He says, keeping his voice even despite how badly he wanted to snap.
"Come on, Johnny, it would be fu-"
"Don't call me Johnny." He growls, the words came out sharper than he intended, but he didn't care. She was getting on his nerves again.
Annette blinked, her smile faltering and hand slipping off his shoulder. She clears her throat, forcing the smile back on her face. "John." She corrected, her voice tight. "Come help me in the kitchen."
"I said I'm busy." He snaps.
Her lips pressed together and something in her eyes shifted. It wasn't anger, but something colder. Calculating.
Then, just like that, the warm smile was back. "Alright. Maybe next time." She said lightly, stepping back out into the hall.
She left his door open.
***
Later that night at dinner, John picked at his food. He wasn't really hungry. He twirled his fork through his spaghetti, pushing the noodles around his plate.
He forced himself to take another bite, but the taste made his stomach churn. The sauce was thick and overly salty, almost like someone had spilled too much seasoning into the pot. He chewed slowly, swallowing with effort, while his sisters ate without complaint.
Annette sat across from him, a small, pleased smile on her face as she twirled her fork in her spaghetti. "Everything alright, Johnny?" She asked, her voice light.
John gripped his fork tighter. He hated when she called him that, but correcting her never seemed to do any good. Instead, he just nodded, keeping his expression neutral. "Yeah. Just not that hungry."
"Shame." She hummed, taking another bite. "I made this just for you. I thought spaghetti was your favorite."
Before John could say anything, the front door opened, and his father stepped inside, sighing as he loosened his tie. "Sorry I'm late." He announces. "Long day."
He comes into the kitchen a minute later, placing a kiss on Annette's lips, and then taking his seat. "How was everyone's day?" He asks, looking towards John and his sisters while Annette fixes him a plate of food.
Rowan and Eilidh perked up immediately, launching into stories about their day—school, a funny thing that happened at lunch, a teacher giving them a compliment. Their father smiled at them, nodding along, but there was exhaustion in his eyes.
Then his gaze landed on Annette. "And how was your day, honey?"
"Oh, fine." She said lightly. "I had two little helpers today in the kitchen." She glances toward John. "I asked Johnny too, but he was too busy to want to come help."
John bristled, his gaze snapping up to meet Annette's from across the table. "I was doing homework." He says tightly.
His father turned to him. "Is it done?"
"Yes."
"Then you can help Annette clean up."
John set his fork down with a little too much force. "Why? I—"
His father raised an eyebrow at him. "Your sisters helped to make dinner, you can help with cleaning up. It's only fair. Plus you need to start helping out your step-mum more."
John's stomach twisted at the word. He had to bite back the argument burning in his throat.
"I still have studying to do." He lies.
"Johnny, cleaning up will take but five minutes." Annette says, and his father hums in agreement.
John scowls down at his food. Now he really wasn't hungry anymore.
As dinner wrapped up, John threw his half eaten pasta away and then went into the kitchen to start the hot water for the dishes. Once the drain was plugged and water started to collect, he got to work. The faster the dishes got done, the faster he could go back to his room.
He scrubbed the plate in his hands harder than necessary, the sound of the sponge grating against the ceramic filling the tense silence in the kitchen. Annette came in just a minute later and stood beside him, towel in hand.
"Want some help, Johnny? You wash and I'll dry." She offers.
John's jaw tightened. "Don't call me that." He tells her again.
Annette let out a quiet chuckle. "Oh? And what would you prefer I call you?"
"Just John is fine." He says, handing her the clean the plate to dry.
She takes it with an exaggerated sigh. "Well, if we're making requests..." She grumbles as she starts drying. "I'd rather you call me 'Mum' instead of Annette."
John froze, stopping mid scrub. He turned to look at her. His hands clenched into fists. "You're not my mum." He said, voice low and sharp.
"I know that." Annette replied smoothly, tilting her head. "But wouldn't it be nice if we at least tried to be a proper family? I want to be a part of your life."
John saw red. "Fuck off."
The words left his mouth before he could stop them, and as soon as they did, he regretted it. Annette's breath caught in shock, and his father's voice cut through the room like a whip. "John!"
John stiffened, his body going rigid as he turned to face his father. His eyes were no longer filled with exhaustion, but blazing with anger, the disappointment in them cutting deeper than anything else.
He strode towards John in two steps, grabbing his face in one hand and pinching his cheeks. "You do not speak to Annette like that!" His father's voice was a low and fierce growl as he forced John to meet his gaze. "Apologize. Now."
John's heart pounded in his chest as he stared up at his father. He's never cussed before, at least not in front of his parents, and the anger in his father's eyes makes him nervous. He's rarely ever seen his father this angry.
John swallowed hard, his eyes downcast. "...Sorry." He muttered, the words tasting like ash on his tongue.
"I never want to hear such fowl words from you ever again. Do you understand me?" His father continues, and John nods quickly, his body tense.
"Good." His father seethes. "Now you finish these dishes and then go upstairs and finish your homework." He says, releasing him.
John quickly turned back to the sink, his vision blurring as he picked up the next plate and started scrubbing. His hands are shaky, and he has to bite his lip to keep it from trembling.
With that, John's father turned and left the kitchen. Annette seemed to look between John and his father for a moment before huffing and following after him.
***
Later that night, John left his room to go downstairs for a cup of water before bed. He hadn't left it since finishing the dishes. He didn't dare to. But his mouth and throat were dry from crying, and he figured everyone had to be in their own rooms by now. On the way down, he had to pass by his father and Annette's room. He moves slowly so they wouldn't be able to hear him, and he can hear them talking as he creeps by. He wasn't going to stop originally, but something caught his attention.
"I don't understand why you let him speak to me that way." Annette was saying, her voice tight with frustration.
"I don't." His father responded, exhaustion creeping back into his tone. "I told him to apologize. He did. I don't know why you're so upset."
"That's not enough!" Annette shot back. "You let him curse at me, and the only thing you did was tell him to say sorry? He needs real consequences. You should have washed his mouth out with soap right then and there."
John frowns, leaning his ear closer to the door to listen.
His father sighed. "He's never spoken like that before. He's struggling—"
"We're all struggling." Annette interrupted. "Rowan, Kristen and Eilidh have adjusted just fine, but John refuses to even try. He's disrespectful, he's defiant, and now he's swearing at me? Are you really just going to let that slide?"
There was a pause. John swallowed hard, his chest tightening as he waited for his father's response.
"I'm not letting it slide." His father said eventually. "But I'm not shoving a bar of soap down his throat either." He says firmly.
Annette scoffed. "So what, he gets to do whatever he wants? No consequences? No discipline?"
Another pause. Then, more hesitantly, his father said, "Of course not. Things do need to change."
John's stomach twisted.
Annette hummed, her tone softer now—persuasive. "Then let me help. John needs a strong mother figure in his life, and he needs structure. You've been working late, you don't have time to deal with all this. We are a team now."
John held his breath.
His father hesitated before finally asking, "What do you have in mind?"
***
Things started to change after that day. Annette made a whole bunch of new rules.
Bedtime was earlier now—much earlier. Meals had to be eaten in full, no exceptions and no throwing away food. A chore chart was made and chores had to be done by certain times. Hanging out with friends became a privilege, not a given. And swearing or back talk was strictly forbidden. Breaking said rules resulted in varying punishments. Ones that only got worse over time.
Not that surprisingly, John broke the most rules at first. He got in trouble for "talking back" quite a bit. Though the talking back wasn't really talking back.
One time, he was just trying to go to a friend's house after school. It was the weekend, and his father never said no normally, but he still went to ask.
"Hey dad, can I go over to Colin's for a bit?" He asks.
His father was at the kitchen table, bills spread out and punching some numbers into a calculator. He glances up from his work to look at John. "Uh, yeah. Sure. Just be home by-"
"John." Annette calls from the living room. She appears in the doorway a few seconds later, arms crossed and a brow raised. "Your father is busy. You can ask me."
"Annette, it's fine. He can-" His father starts to say, but Annette cuts him off.
"Ewan." She raises a brow at him, and his father sighs.
"Ask your step-mum." He says softly to John.
John frowns at him. "What? Why? You just said I could." He says, making Annette give him a look.
"John, don't talk back to your father. He told you to ask me." She says.
John looks to his father for help, but he's just gone back to working on the bills at the table. "Just ask her, John." He says, not looking up.
John purses his lips together and looks back at Annette. "Can I go to my friend's house?" He asks shortly.
"No." Annette answers quickly.
"Why not?" John immediately throws back, irritation creeping into his tone. "My dad just said I could. All my homework is done, I did my chores last night."
"Because I said so." She shrugs.
"That's not a reason."
Annette's eyes narrowed. "You don't need a reason. You need to listen."
John scoffs, looking back to his father. "Dad, come on. This is stupid."
John's father sighs, looking back up at Annette. "Is there a reason he can't go?" He asks her, making Annette roll her eyes and huff.
"Well for one, he's getting a tone with me like he always does." She says. "And he left some dirty dishes in the sink last night. So since his chores didn't get finished, no friends today."
John gawks at her. "I did the dishes last night after dinner!" He argues, his voice raising now.
"Not all of them." Annette says. "There was a cup in there this morning."
"I had a glass of water before bed last night."
"And you didn't clean it. So your chores weren't done." Annette says, making John's jaw drop. She couldn't be serious.
"Dad." He looks back to his father for help, but his dad just looked drained.
Annette steps in before his father can do say anything. "The answer is no. Now quite bothering your father, and go upstairs. You can spend the day in your room since you like to talk back to me." She grabs him by his shoulders, rather tightly, and pushes him back out of the kitchen and towards the stairs.
John spent the whole weekend up in his room. He was only allowed to come down again for dinner.
***
The rules weren't the only new thing either. It was a few weeks after Christmas, and John was up in his room drawing. He'd gotten a book from his father for Christmas that taught you how to draw different animals. He was following the step-by-step guide to draw a shark when a sudden wailing pulled his attention away from book. It was one of his sisters.
John was on his feet in an instant, throwing his pencils down and practically running down the hall towards where the crying was coming from. He found Rowan in the hallway, stomping her feet, her face beet red, and in a complete melt down.
"Rowan?" John asks, confused as he tries to piece together whatever happened that's made her this upset.
Then an awful scrapping sound came from inside Rowan's room, and soon her white dresser started to poke out into the hallway. As John moved closer, he could see Annette on the other side.
"Rowan, honey, I need to get this through the door." She said sweetly, still pressing the dresser forward. "Move, please."
Rowan didn't move though. She stood in the doorway to her room, little fists clenched at her sides, and she cried out again. Annette started to push the dresser again, and John quickly darted over to push it back before she could run over Rowan.
"What are you doing?!" He shouts. "Why are you moving her things?!" He demands to know.
Annette looks up and glares at John. "She's moving into Eilidh's room." She says simply. "I need this space for my work."
Rowan seemed to sob harder. "I don't want to share a room!!" She wails. "I hate Eilidh's room!"
"You can't kick her out of her room!" John shouts.
"John. Move. Your father and I talked this over this morning." She narrows her eyes at him. "I am going to start up my own business and I need an office space. So get out of the way."
John crosses his arms, holding his ground. "No. It can wait until Dad gets home. If he knew how upset-"
Annette slams her hands down on the dresser, cutting him off. "John! I will not say it again! Get out of the way or so help me you won't have lunch or dinner tonight!"
John clenches his teeth. He wanted to think that was an empty threat, but he knew better than to test Annette. "Fine. But I'm talking to dad the second he gets home." Whether or not he would listen was another story. "Rowan, come on."
Rowan doesn't move though. She stares at her dresser, her lip starting to tremble as a whole new wave of tears threatens to spill over. "No! It's not fair!"
Annette lets out a frustrated growl. "Rowan. You are testing my patience today. Now move." She marches around the dresser as she talks, and when she gets to Rowan, she grabs her by the wrist and starts to drag her down the hallway. Rowan starts crying again and digs her heels into the ground, but a six year old's strength couldn't match a forty something year old woman's.
"Let go of her! You're gonna hurt her!" John yells as Rowan suddenly goes dead weight and starts getting dragged.
"Oh she's fine. She's just throwing a fit." Annette drags her just a little further before letting go, and Rowan stays on the ground, sobbing and holding her wrist. John quickly picks her up, and Rowan wraps her arms tightly around him.
"Johnny! Don't let her take my room!" She sobs as John hoists her up.
"It's gonna be ok, Ro. Just wait until dad gets home. He'll give you your room back." He tells her softly as he carries her away to stay in his room.
His father was home late that night. He missed dinner completely. Rowan was stomping her foot and refusing to go to bed when he finally came through the door. She bolted down the stairs when she heard him, her face still blotchy and red from earlier.
"Daddy!" She wailed, throwing herself at his legs. "Annette moved all my stuff into Eilidh's room! She took my room!"
His father staggered a bit at the force of her hug, clearly caught off guard. He looked down, trying to soothe her with one hand while setting his work bag aside with the other.
"Whoa, hey now, sweetheart—what's this?" He asked, crouching down. "Why are we crying?"
"She said I have to share a room with Eilidh!" Rowan sobbed. "I want my room back!"
John watched on from the hallway, waiting to see what his father was going to do.
His father sighed and picked her up, rocking her gently in his arms. "I know it's different, sweetheart, but it won't be so bad sharing a room with your big sister. It'll be like one big sleepover! That's fun, isn't it?" He says, trying to deescalate the situation and make it more appealing.
Rowan shakes her head though. "I don't wanna share a room! I want my own room!" She cries.
"Listen to me, Ro. Annette needs her own space to work from home. We had to make a few changes for that. I know it's hard, but you'll have so much fun with Eilidh."
Rowan shakes her head, hot angry tears streaming down her cheeks. "No!" She wails. "I want my room! I want my room!"
"Come on, sweetie. I'll tuck you in and I'll read you a story. How about that?" He offers, picking her up as she continued to sob. He starts towards the stairs where John was standing.
John waits with his arms crossed as his father approached. "It's not fair." He says, making his father look at him tiredly.
"John, this isn't up for discussion." He says, moving past him to walk up the stairs.
"Why can't she just use your study?" He says, following after him. "You barely use it anymore unless you're home. And you're never home lately."
His father stops halfway up the stairs and turns, expression tight. "I am not going to go back and forth with you about this. She'll adjust. Kids adjust. You need to stay out of it. You're just making it harder for her."
"And Annette isn't? You should have been here this morning. Annette grabbed Rowan by the wrist and dragged her out of room while she was crying. And then she threatened not to feed me lunch or dinner if I got in the way!"
That made his dad pause on the steps. He seemed to be in thought for a little while before finally looking back at John. "I'm sure she wasn't trying to hurt Rowan. And I'm also sure she didn't mean what she said about the whole not feeding you thing." He says dismissively.
John's jaw dropped as he stared at his father. "Rowan's wrist was red where she grabbed her." Of course it wasn't anymore. It'd faded after about an hour. "And-"
"John. That's enough." His father says. "I'll have a word with her about it. But right now it's late and I need to get Rowan settled. Come on. I'll tuck you in as well." He offers, holding his arm out to John.
John begrudgingly went with his father. He wasn't happy about how that conversation went, but at least he said he was going to talk to Annette. He still had hope that things would change.
***
Things proceeded to get worse.
It had been nearly a month since Rowan had been forced to move out of her room and into Eilidh's. It took Rowan a while to get used to sharing a room with Eilidh, but the bitterness did fade after some time.
A lot of nights the girls got in trouble for staying up and talking when they were suppose to be sleeping. The first couple times had just been verbal warnings by Annette and sometimes their dad. They usually always listen and would go back to their own beds.
John's room was right next to Eilidh and Rowan's, and one Friday night, he could hear them giggling. He knew if he could hear them, then there was a good chance Annette could as well.
And sure enough. About five minutes later, he hears his father's bedroom door open, Eilidh and Rowan's hushed whispers and hurried shuffling to get to their own beds, Annette's footsteps stomping past his room, and then his sisters' door opening.
"I have had enough of this!" Annette shouted, slamming the light switch on. "Do you two think this is a game?! That this is some slumber party?!"
John held his breath, watching his wall from where the shouting was bleeding through.
"But it's a Friday. We don't have school tomorrow. Why can't we stay up a little later?"
It was Eilidh. Her soft voice barely heard through John's wall.
"Out of bed! Now!" Annette snapped, her footsteps moving further into the room, probably towards Eilidh's bed. "You can go sleep on the couch since you can't keep your mouth shut."
"W-what?" Eilidh stammered, followed by a thudding sound. Annette had pulled her out of bed.
"Move!" She barks. "I'm done with this."
Without another word, John could hear Eilidh's quick and light footsteps patter across the floor. She was sniffling as she ran past his closed door. Their bedroom door was slammed shut, and Annette's heavy stomps passed by a second later, returning to her own room.
Eilidh slept out there for a whole week before she was allowed to sleep in her own bed again.
***
On another instance, it was Rowan again.
Their father was at work—he had been working later and later these days, barely home before they were already in bed. This was one of those days.
John was downstairs reading in the living room when he heard Rowan and Annette in the kitchen.
"Uh-uh." Annette's voice came sharp and quick. "Put that back."
There was a pause. Then Rowan's small, hesitant voice. "But I'm thirsty..."
"You can have something with dinner. Which is in thirty minutes." Annette's tone was clipped, already irritated.
Another pause and then a loud crash followed by a gasp. John tensed and looked up from his book. He couldn't see the kitchen from where he was, but he kept listening.
"Rowan! What the hell did you do?!" Came Annette's raised voice.
"I-I'm sorry! It slipped!"
"Now I have to stop everything I'm doing and clean that up! Get out of the kitchen! All you kids do is make a mess everywhere you go."
John heard Rowan running out of the kitchen, following by the unmistakeable hiccuping of her starting to cry. He set his book down and followed after her, finding her halfway up the stairs and curled up one of the steps.
"Hey." He said gently, crouching down next to her. "What's wrong?"
"I just wanted some juice cause I was thirsty, and Annette said I couldn't have any, and when I tried to put it back it slipped and spilled everywhere, and then Annette yelled at me." She says, her breath beginning to stutter and catch as she tried not to cry. It wasn't working. Tears were starting to flow down her cheeks anyway.
John glanced over his shoulder, listening for any movement downstairs. All was quiet—for now. He sat next to her and rested a hand on her back. "It's okay." He mutters, "Just breathe, alright? You gotta calm down or else you're gonna make her more angry."
"I hate her, Johnny. I don't want her here anymore. I want it go back to the way things were." She sobs, breaking out in tears. She couldn't help it.
"I know, I know. Shhh..." He tries to soothe her, keep her from crying. If there was one thing Annette hated, it was hearing them cry.
"I want daddy! And I want some juice!" She sobs louder, making John wince. Both because he didn't enjoy seeing his sister upset and because he knew what was coming.
A loud smack of something being thrown down, a kitchen towel probably, and then the sound of footsteps coming towards them.
"Ro, please stop crying." John whispered hurriedly, but it was too late. Annette appeared at the bottom of the stairs, giving Rowan an angry look.
"I don't want to hear you huffing and snotting! You wanna cry? You can go cry up in your room where I don't have to hear it!" She marches up the steps as she talks and grabs Rowan by the elbow, yanking her to her feet and taking her up the stairs.
"You don't have to-"
"John! Not a word if you know what's good for you." She threatens over her shoulder, which makes John shut his mouth. He didn't want to make her more upset than she already was. He just turns and looks away as Rowan gets dragged off her room.
***
Not even Kristen was safe. Being the youngest she tended to get off easier than the older kids, but she still would get in trouble.
When she misbehaved, Annette's go to was to make her sit on the stairs in a time-out. Though sometimes she wouldn't let her watch cartoons or she'd take her toys away.
Kristen always cried whenever Annette did those things, which made Annette more upset. If she didn't calm down within five minutes, she would pick her up and take her to her room. Once Kristen figured out how to open doors, Annette started locking it.
On days when Kristen couldn't stop crying in her room, John or Eilidh would sneak in to go comfort her. Annette either never noticed they did that or she didn't care since it made Kristen stop.
***
Then there was the time John went into town with Annette. Normally he avoided running errands with her at all costs, but he needed school supplies for the upcoming year.
They were at the checkout register, and the woman working it had been acquaintances with their family for years. Her name was Holly or something like that. She smiles as she sees John and Annette approaching the register.
"Little Johnny MacTavish! I haven't seen you in quite a while. You're a lot taller than I remember." She smiles, and John offers her a half smile back.
Annette smiles at the two of them. "Oh. Do you two know each other?" She asks.
"Oh I've known Johnny for years. Since he was just a wee lad." Holly says. "His mother would bring him to the nursery at church on Sundays during the service." She explains. "I don't believe we've ever met though. What's your relation to Johnny?" She asks.
Annette seems off put by the question. She tilts her head and blinks a little before answering. "Well, I'm Annette MacTavish. I married his father."
"Oh! I didn't know Ewan remarried." She says, sounding surprised. "Though I guess there's no way I could have known. We never see him anymore."
"We've been married for over a year." Annette says. "We'll be coming up on our two year soon."
"Oh, how lovely." Holly replies with a warm smile. "You're very lucky. Ewan is a good man, and Johnny and his sisters are wonderful kids. Their mum would be happy to know someone is loving and taking care of them."
Annette beams at that. She seems proud, which was odd to John. Especially since she did anything but love or care for them. "Well thank you. They've been such a blessing. Truly."
Then, to John's horror, she slid an arm around his shoulder and gave him a squeeze, pulling him in for a side hug.
He immediately jerked away, wriggling out of her grip without a second thought. "Don't," he muttered under his breath, loud enough that Holly heard it.
Annette froze for a second. Her smile stayed fixed, her voice light, but her hand dropped quickly to her side.
"Oh, teenage boys." She said with an airy chuckle. "They're always too cool for hugs from their mums."
"Step-mum." John corrects her.
Annette's smile twitched, a little too tight now. She lets out a dry chuckle, and Holly starts to look a little uncomfortable.
"Well," Holley starts after a beat of awkward silence. "It was very nice to meet you, Annette. Johnny, tell your dad I said hi, alright?" She gives John another smile.
"Will do." John nods, and then they gather their things and head back to the car.
The ride home was silent, and John just looked out the window the whole way. When they pulled into the driveway, Annette got out without a word and hurried inside, the front door closing sharply behind her.
John didn't think much of it at first. He stayed behind, reaching into the backseat to gather the shopping bags. He walked through the door, shut it behind him, and made his way to the kitchen, the bags rustling against his leg as he moved. He barely had a chance to set them down before a sharp tug yanked his head back.
"Ow—!" He gasps, dropping the bags and stumbling as her grip on his hair tightens.
"Are you proud of yourself?" Annette hissed from behind him. "Embarrassing me like that? In public?"
"I didn't—" He tries, but she gave his hair another jerk, just enough to shut him up and send a fresh sting across his scalp.
"You will not undermine me. Ever. And you will not correct me in front of anyone like that ever again."
John bites the inside of his cheek, blinking rapidly. His hands curl around hers, trying to pry her fingers free and ease the stinging pain.
"Do you understand me?!" She asks when John doesn't say anything.
"Yes." John answers quickly.
She lets go a moment later with a scoff. "You're lucky your father wasn't home. He'd be ashamed of the way you act."
Eilidh was standing just outside her bedroom, halfway down the hall. She'd heard the commotion and now watched him wide-eyed, noticing the tight set of his jaw and the way he wouldn't meet her gaze.
"John?" She asked quietly, taking a step toward him. "What happened?"
He shook his head and brushed past her without a word.
"John?" She tried again, more insistently, but he didn't slow down. He reached his room and shut the door behind him with a quiet soft click—not a slam. He didn't dare to slam his door.
He pressed his back against the door, chest tight, breath catching. His head throbbed where Annette had yanked his hair, the sting still fresh. He rubbed the spot gently, wincing at the tenderness beneath his fingers.
A few seconds passed before there was a soft knock on the door.
"Johnny...?" Eilidh's voice came through, quiet and concerned. "Are you okay?"
"Go away." He said, his voice low and flat.
There was silence. Then the sound of her retreating footsteps down the hall.
John just sat there a moment, breathing in through his nose, willing himself not to cry.
***
She got comfortable grabbing them like that. And somehow that just became how things were.
It didn't matter if John went to his father about it. He just shrugged it off and said she had a reason for doing the things she did. There was always an excuse.
And now he was lucky to even get the chance to tell his dad when something happened. He wasn't home anymore. Most of his time was spent at the office or holed up in his study with the door shut. John had heard him and Annette muttering about bills piling up. That was the most important thing on his dad's mind at the moment.
John was almost asleep when he heard his door creak open and shut softly. He squinted toward the sound, the faint light coming from under the crack of his door was just enough to catch a black shadow tiptoeing toward him.
"John? Are you awake?"
It was Eilidh.
"Yeah. Why are you in here? Annette is going to flip if she finds out you're in here past bedtime." He whispers back to her as she moves to sit on his bed.
"It's fine. She's downstairs with Dad right now." She whispered back, glancing at the door behind her. She hesitated only a second before continuing, getting right to the point. "I was just getting up to pee, and I heard them talking in the kitchen."
John's brow furrowed.
"Dad was saying that he's not making enough money to support us anymore. He said he's thinking about taking a new job. One where he has to travel. He'd be gone for a long time, but he'd make almost double."
John sat up straighter at that. "Did it sound like he was going to do it?”
Eilidh shrugged, hugging her arms. "I don't know. He didn't seem like he wanted to, but Annette was encouraging it. She kept saying she could handle things here while he was gone. And she said it'd just be temporary. Until she could find something too."
John let out a soft, dry laugh and looked down at his hands. "Yeah. Like she'd ever get a job. Just like that 'small business' she was gonna start in Rowan's room."
"I know." Eilidh murmured.
They were quiet for a beat.
"It's not like dad's around much anymore either." John muttered.
"I know." She said again, her voice smaller this time. She stared at the blanket pooled around her legs. "But at least when he is, Annette isn't as mean.
John didn't argue. That part was true. Annette was better when their dad was around—less yelling, less grabbing, more smiling. As fake as it was, it was a relief when she acted like someone else.
"Well, maybe-" John pauses mid sentence as he hears a noise from downstairs.
"You should get back to your room." He whispered urgently, already listening to the quiet footsteps below. "I think they're coming up."
Eilidh nodded and slipped off the bed. "Goodnight, Johnny." She whispers.
"Night, Eilidh." He murmured, watching her as she cracked the door open, peeked into the hallway, and slipped out silently like a shadow. The door clicked shut behind her.
A week later, he'd almost completely forgotten the conversation with Eilidh about their dad getting a new job. Until it was brought up by his father at dinner one night.
"There's something I've been meaning to tell you kids." His dad started. His voice was tired but trying to be cheerful. "A new opportunity's come up at work. A big one."
John glanced at Eilidh from across the table. She returned his look.
"It's a new position, one that would mean I'd be traveling for a while. Couple of months at a time, maybe a little more, depending on what they need from me." He says. "But it comes with a significant raise. Which means we could have a little extra money to go do fun things. Like go on vacation or getting something new for everyone."
Rowan looks like from her plate. "Are you going to be gone for my birthday?"
Their dad smiled at her, though there was a pause before he answered. "I'll try not to be. But if I am, I'll send you something special, alright? And we can celebrate however you want when I'm back."
John's eyes didn't leave his father's face. "Do you have to take it?" He asked quietly.
His father hesitated again, just a flicker of doubt before smoothing it over. "It's only temporary. Just until we build the savings back up. You don't need to worry about any of that. I know it'll take some getting used to, but we're strong. I'll be back to my old job before you know it."
For some reason, John didn't believe him.
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