Chapter Eleven

                                    

                                          
A/N - The Final Installment. :( Also this one may need a trigger warning, so if you're sensitive, I wouldn't read the part before the page break. 
                          
Also, I've realized that my writing has just gotten lazier and lazier with every chapter. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoyed my story, and thanks for reading! <3

                          
Mitch was starving. He and Kirstin had been locked up in his tiny attic bedroom for hours, now.
                          
Mitch had insisted that Kirstin finish her breakfast and the rest of his, since her body wasn't used to being denied food for long periods of time, but even now her stomach was rumbling, too.
                          
They were both drained and exhausted. The giddiness of the ball had long faded away, replaced with sadness and hopelessness.
                          
Mitch was starting to wonder if his stepmother would let him out this time, or if she would just keep both of them in there forever.
                          
"Remember last night, before the ball, when we were fighting?" Mitch asked, his voice scratchy from the lack of water.
                          
"Yeah," Kirstin replied quietly.
                          
"You said there was a reason you never told me about your past."
                          
Kirstin scoffed.
                          
"Could you tell me now?" Mitch asked.
                          
"Well, better now than ever, I guess," Kirstin sighed. "My mother. She doesn't love me. It's obvious. Hell, I bet she hasn't even noticed that I've gone missing yet. But you know that bit. My father...well, my father was worse."
                          
Mitch furrowed his eyebrows, trying to imagine someone worse than his stepmother. "How so?"
                          
"He was a rapist."


                          
Mitch inhaled sharply.
                          
Kirstin laughed sarcastically. "Yeah, no way to sugarcoat that one." She swallowed. "There were three of us, to begin with. Candice, me, and...and our little sister, Emory.
                          
"We were so close to one another because of our horrible home life. My dad..." Kirstin exhaled shakily. "I got the worst of it, no doubt. He did it to Candice twice or three times, and Emory got it once...but for me...it was almost every other day. Oh God." Kirstin curled up into a ball on the floor, tears leaking from her eyes.
                          
Mitch just stared at her, too in shock to move.
                          
"Then Emory...died. It wasn't just a normal death, though. She...she killed herself. Overdosed." Kirstin was trembling now. "What sort of life were we living that made a ten year old want to end her life?"
                          
Mitch swallowed, beginning to tear up himself.
                          
"After that, Candice stopped talking to me. She blamed herself for it. She's the oldest, after all. She was supposed to care for us. She became this...awful person. I don't even know who she is anymore.
                          
"But then my dad died, and my mom took us in by herself. She was mean, but she didn't hurt us. And then she married your dad. And...you know how it went from there."
                          
"Kirstin, I'm so sorry."
                          
Kirstin shook her head. "I don't need your pity, Mitchy. After all, all of this has just made me so much stronger."
                          
Mitch just looked at her. His stepsister, while she was his best friend, had always been a mystery to him. Behind every sarcastic joke was a tear shed. "You don't deserve this life. You deserve something so much better than this."

"Oh, Mitchy," Kirstin replied sadly. "We both do."
                          
Mitch gave her a small smile. "How about when we get out of here, we run away and join the circus?"


                          
Kirstin smiled weakly. "I've got a bag packed and ready to go."