The Hunters

Adriana

“Ria, please be reasonable. It’s just one night!”

Head in hands, I force myself to try harder to block out her ridiculous whining. All because I won’t do it anymore. Why should I have to take care of her spawn?

That bloody kid. The one that could throw tantrums for sport, and pukes on just about all my more expensive shoes. No. Not again.

“Ria, dear, it’s not the end of the world! Please just come out, your father and I need to leave”

Just a little longer. If I can ignore her for a few more minutes, she might just take the hint.

“Adriana, I’m not going to stand here all night. We’re leaving in ten minutes.”

Oh no you don’t.

Her footsteps echo in the hallway, especially loud with her unnecessarily loud, break-neck heals. Seriously woman, how do you do anything in those?

Slamming my hands down on my duvet, I leap from my bed, swing open the door and practically launch myself across the hallway to their room, almost knocking down a vase on my way. As I reach for the handle, their bedroom door swings open in front of me, giving me a full view of Edmund in all his bare chested, pissed off glory. Like the klutz I am, I almost tumble straight into him.

Honestly, put on a damn shirt.

Please.

“Adriana, you have been told repeatedly that you need to look after Emily tonight. Why do you always insist on making things difficult?” He growls, his posture dominant in an attempt to intimidate. My eyes narrow at him. I know it won’t intimidate him, but I need to at least try. He and Diana do this at least 4 days a week, going out and doing who knows what for hours on end, leaving me to care for what is basically a demon in a meat sack. Not to mention the fact that every bloody time they go out, they get plastered and start acting like psychopaths. Now I’m not saying they are violent - they aren’t and never have been - however they do say things that would probably get them in trouble, had Edmund not been the damn mayor. And despite hating the little demon’s guts, that isn’t something I’d want her seeing.

I turn to look at Diana, who stands timidly by the doorframe. Why she doesn’t just leave him, I’ll never know. She always comes home from a night out considerably more aware than her husband, but always agrees with everything he does or says, despite the fact that she is clearly miserable. She never speaks for herself, submitting to Edmund no matter what and agreeing with every piece of crap he comes out with.

Turning back to Edmund, I breathe in deeply. This could end badly; no matter how much I disagree with him, I’ve never spoken out before, mostly just because I know I won’t have any backup. I make a final bid to appear confident, straightening my back and clearing my throat.

“I’m not doing it again.”

Well if he didn’t think I was pathetic before, he certainly does now.

He doesn’t even look in the least bit affected, wearing that stupid smirk of his.

I grimace, knowing that there’s no chance he’s going to take me seriously. I glare at him.

I will be taken seriously.

“You do the same thing, multiple times a week, coming home so drunk you can’t find your own arse, and expect me to just deal with it. Why should I bother? I can’t babysit Emily; she won’t listen to me, never sleeps, and pukes in my shoes as if she knows it pisses me off. But I also can’t stand here trying to protect her from seeing how pathetic you are any longer. It is no sight for a 4 year old, Edmund!”

His face mirrors mine, his dark grey eyes full of rage, my green ones biting back with an equal ferocity. Emily knackered my white Vans last time I tried to babysit, and they know I have exams tomorrow. I can’t do this tonight.

Diana gasps as I snap out of the hateful trance, my head swinging to the right, my cheek stinging. He’s never done that before...

“You live in my house, leaching off of my money. I got you out of that orphanage and I can get rid of you just as easily. Remember your fucking place.”

I don’t even know when they left the house.

I have a headache. A right bloody annoying one. And it won’t stop crying.

I don’t know what else to do. I’ve fed it. I’ve bathed it. I’ve clothed it and hydrated it and put it to bed with the TV on in the background. I’ve even, rather kindly, fished out Mr. Tedd from an already flushing toilet in a mad panic. What more do you fucking want, child?

I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling. I haven’t even bothered to start studying yet. There’s no way I could have focused after the day’s events. Emily is screeching like a banshee, and the shock of what Edmund did still hasn’t worn off. Yes, he’s been rude to me before, said horrid things and controlled pretty much every aspect of my life, but he’s never layed a hand on me before. I must have really fucked up this time.

Having finally had enough of listening to the constant cries, I lazily push myself off the bed and trudge over to the demon’s bedroom, yanking the door open, only to find that the little twat was leaning against it and has now face-planted the floor. Momentary relief floods through my ears as her screams stop. She lifts her head, looking about the hallway with an ugly grimace that only seems to get larger and uglier by the second. Crap. It is at this point that she starts bawling her eyes out and speaking a language that vaguely resembles that of a donkey. Great. Figuring that, no matter how tempting the thought, it would be wrong to leave her lying there, I picked her up and carried her over to the bed. I get her on the bed fairly easily. Getting her to lay down, now that’s difficult. She’s a scrappy one.

After valiantly fighting (and unfortunately losing) a wrestling match with a rabid four year old, I finally manage to convince her to sleep - by which I mean I bribed her with the promise of jelly beans for breakfast. I comb out the knots Emily put in my wavy brown hair with my fingers, glancing at the bluish hue on my cheek, wondering how I’m supposed to cover that up. I can’t explain it; everyone assumes that Edmund is a saint. Maybe they’ll believe that Emily lobbed a toy at me or something.

Deciding that I’ll try my best with makeup - most likely to be ‘borrowed’ from Diana - I then find myself with actual, physical time, a rarity when dealing with the little idiot. I, for what must be the first time in my life, decide that studying is the best course of action, and I must say my attempt at being productive was a prideful five minute effort, since Supernatural was on the TV. There’s no way that it wouldn’t have distracted me.

In my exhausted state, I finally begin to doze off, tiredly ignoring the annoying bumps and noises coming from Emily’s room. God, I hate that child. I guess I’ll study for the next exams instead.

Unknown

“Are we done here?”

“Yes. I have her.”

My accomplice takes a look at the room, eyeing how much has clattered to the floor. “Energetic one, eh?”

I chuckle. “Yeah.”

He shakes his head. “Pity.”