Thread: The Wayward Daughter (Tyr + Laila)

Refusal was not something Bianca was accustomed to. When she demanded something she generally tended to get it. It could be the attention of the all the boys she had previously wrapped so tightly around her pinky, or the stammering acquiescence of her mother when Bianca clamored for money. This was true until this morning. The morning was still painfully branded into Bianca's memory. She grimaced as the bus jolted her out of her thoughts, sending her lurching in her seat. Her breasts, already struggling to stay within the confines of her butter yellow tank top, bobbed jauntily. Bianca caught a man sitting two rows away ogling her and gave him a venomous glare. She was not in the mood to deal with the carnivorous gazes of men, though she knew how to throw an offhand snipe that tended to make most slink off. Bianca's phone gave a muted ring from within the confines of her purse. She peered into it, and her plump pink tinged lips curled into a scowl. It was her mother. Fucking bitch, she muttered under her breath, reaching into her phone and stabbing a button with one finger until the ringtone died. Her mother's pathetic countenance was still etched into Bianca's memory. Bianca, you know...this is a small town, her mother had finally said that morning, after standing hesitantly for a while at the doorway of Bianca's room. She looked like an animal that wanted to flee, with her pale watery eyes widened in trepidation. Bianca had barely glanced away from her reflection, and made no sign of having heard her mother as she ran her fingers through her wavy dark brown locks. P-people hear things very e-easily you know. That happens in small towns. So you see...when...when... Bianca's mother trailed off, unsure how to continue and unsure if her daughter was even paying her any heed. Bianca was not deaf to her mother's bumbling words but she was mostly preoccupied posing in front of her mirror as she modeled the new low cut yellow tank top and skintight miniskirt she had just purchased. The clothes clung deliciously to her steep curves. The tank top let an ample amount of cleavage escape, the exposed skin of her breasts sun-kissed and supple. Her ass was round and prominent, and the skirt was snug enough to display these features. Bianca? Bianca! I-I'm trying to talk to you here, Bianca's mother seemed to brace herself as she inhaled deeply. You can't go around wh-whoring yourself out to every boy that comes along anymore. Everybody finds out. And they look at me l-like it's...like it's my fault that my daughter's a sl-slut!! Bianca's mother finally spat out. Bianca stopped caressing the pronounced slope of her own hips and slowly turned to look at her mother, her crystalline blue eyes wide in genuine shock. Her mother was breathing hard now, a vaguely maniacal glint in her eyes. You've been such a f-fucking burden for the past few years. Everybody blames me f-for you. And every time I bring home a man, h-he just stares at you in your little trampy clothes, her voice was strained and breathy, like she was on the verge of choking, but she continued. I know how to fix you though. I'm sending you to your father. You're nineteen now, done with h-high school. He'll take care of you now! she finished triumphantly, the smallest trace of a vindictive smile appearing on her face. What? Bianca had exclaimed, taking a threatening step towards the other woman. You can't do that to me! You fucking whore! she had shrieked, and was about to continue her tantrum when she was ceased by a sharp slap to her face. Bianca rubbed her cheek as the bus hissed and reeled away from the bus stop, leaving her forlorn figure there, along with her bags. She pulled down at the hem of her miniskirt, suddenly and strangely self-conscious. She had never met this man she was supposed to call her father. Not even vague memories existed, since her mother had left him just shortly after Bianca had turned one. Would he be as malleable like her mother had been? Or should she expect something entirely different?