"One's dignity may be assaulted, vandalized and cruelly mocked, but it can never be taken away unless it is surrendered." 
― Michael J. Fox

***

Chapter Two:

Nola reached the front porch of her home, not bothering to look oddly at the red truck in her driveway that she'd saw when she pulled up. She knew, after glancing at it once and ignoring looking at it again as she parked her car and made her way to the front door, who the car belonged to...

Mitch.

The door was unlocked, Nola realized as she turned the handle. Mitch tended to leave the doors unlocked, and now was no different. He believed that there was no need to have the doors locked when he was around. Mitch informed her that if someone was to come in, uninvited, he'd teach them a lesson. As for locking the bathroom or bedroom doors for privacy - Mitch also voiced, and taught her that privacy is never to be found or seeked in a home that he is in. He, as a man, had a right to come in as he pleased without the road block of a lock.

Mitch even taught her — when she had enough of a punishment and tried to escape his lesson by running to her room and locking the door — that doors are no match for his large stature. With quick, swift moves he could break down any door.

He told Nola, she remembered, that when they got a house no room would have a lock on it. At first it bothered her but she knew that it was a woman's job not to interject — he knew what needed and had to be done and she was to listen and accept it.

Nola, after closing the door behind her and placing her keys in the bowl by the door, looked around the living room. She noted, firstly, that Mitch was not on the black leather couch, watching the television in front of it, with his feet propped up on the glass coffee table. That made her raise an eyebrow for he was normally there when she got home.

Walking in farther, she decided that she should head to the kitchen to see if he was in there.

Upon entering she saw his tall figure leaning on one of the grey marble counters by the sink. He had a glass of water, and immediately locked eyes with hers when she walked in.

Nola searched his blue orbs, hoping to see if he was angry with something she did. A quiet sigh escaped her lips when she noticed that he was calm and not outraged.

"Tomorrow you need to do something," He stated, cutting straight to what was on his mind. That was his style, always speaking what he was thinking, never second guessing it. "You need to go to the office at your school or a counselor, whoever, and drop out of school. No sense in you continuing your education with me around."

Nola's heart dropped, she didn't want to quit school. Even though her grades weren't that great and she didn't enjoy classes, like she used to, Nola still wanted to finish high school. She was in her final stretch with just two months to go before she'd graduate. However, after mulling it over for a second, she knew this would make Mitch happy. "Okay," She breathed, not fully accepting the idea but not arguing with it either.

"Great. Now, moving on. The day after tomorrow I'm signing a lease for an apartment. We move in the day after that. "

She was about to reach a breaking point, she could feel it. He wasn't asking her if she wanted to uproot from her parents home and go live with him — he was stating she was, as if they'd already discussed this topic and agreed on it at an earlier date. Two years ago, when she had her fiery spirit and willingness to back talk, Nola would raise hell. However, now she knew  — she knew it was not her place to argue with Mitch. "Where is it?" The question slipped off her tongue without her thinking twice about it. Nola knew she made a mistake and wished, more than anything she could go back in time and rip the question from her lips.

"Does it matter?" Mitch spat. "Gosh, Nole, I'm giving you a place to live — with me. I'm willing to provide a roof over your head and food. Here you are, questioning me over the damn location." Mitch sat his water down on the counter and shook his head. "You're so ungrateful."

"I-I-I don't — don't care about the location, Mitch. I-I-I was just ... just ... just-"

"Spit it out already!" He hissed.

"I was just — just," Nola fumbled on her words. She knew what she wanted to say but she was afraid of his reaction and the lesson to be given afterward.

"I just, I just, I just, I just," Mitch mocked. "Damn, you really need to cut that stuttering shit out. It's annoying as hell."

"I was just curious," Nola's words came quick, but not so fast that Mitch couldn't hear or understand her.

"Curious? What gives you the right to be curious?" Mitch was becoming angry.

"Mitch, I-I-" Her words came to a halt when she noticed he was making his way towards her with long strides.

Nola wanted to run, but where would she go? Wherever she'd run he would find her — that much she knew. Plus, a lesson was coming and Nola knew she deserved to be taught a lesson.

So, standing there she counted the four steps it took him to reach her. When he did his eyes stared down at her with hatred.

"Fix me some dinner. When I'm done eating, we will straighten out your curiosity." With that said Mitch walked out of the kitchen and into the living room.

Before her brain could kick in, her shaky legs were guiding her around the kitchen as her arms grabbed ingredients for the spaghetti she'd planned to make tonight.

Nola labored in the kitchen for an hour, making spaghetti, garlic bread, and Italian spinach. When all was said and done with, Nola was satisfied with the way the meal turned out. Plating Mitch's food, she muttered to her hungry stomach that the food was not for her — not until Mitch was sound asleep and she had the chance to seek down to the kitchen, late tonight, and eat a little — that was if Mitch gave her a 'small' lesson and she had some energy left over.

"Here you go," Nola exclaimed as she placed the plate in front of Mitch, who was already seated at the head of the dining room table.

His eyes stared down at the plate, making no moves to eat it. "I never once said I wanted spaghetti. You made this last week," He stated right before swiping his hand across the table. His actions made the plate fly off the table and hit the wall. The plate shattered and the spaghetti, along with the bread and spinach, stained the wall.

Mitch quickly stood up and grabbed her hair. Yanking it to the side, he growled, "You just can't ever do one damn thing right." Mitch tsked and shook his head. "You'll learn one day, Nole. One day you'll realize: my lessons can be prevented, if you'd just do what you are supposed to and stop being a worthless piece of shit."

It was after he spoke that Mitch unleashed his lesson her.

At first when Nola woke up she felt fine. However, it wasn't until she blinked a few times and attempted to sit up that she felt it all. Nola wrapped her right arm around her waist as she tried to sit up. She knew, without considering going to the doctor (which would never happen because Mitch has taught her never to go to hospitals — they are evil and places where people go and die) that one or two of her left ribs were broken.

It took every ounce of strength for Nola to get off the floor that was currently sprawled out on. Standing, Nola gazed around the room to find that her parents living room a total wreck. The vase that her mother and father received on their wedding day was shattered into a million pieces by the couch. Nola touched her top right forehead and felt where the vase had come into contact with her head last night. She winced before dropping her hand and landing sights on the indent in the wall next to the television.

Closing her eyes, Nola turned away from the scene in front of her. She didn't want to be reminded of how Mitch picked her up, with ease and flung her at the wall several times. She didn't want to remember how it felt when he kicked her and cussed her out. Most of all, Nola didn't want to be faced with the realization that the lesson he handed out last night was the farthest he'd gone in a long time and for once in two years she was starting to feel like he was taking it all too far.

Nola opened her eyes, once she was facing away from the living room. With slow, steady and painful steps Nola made her way to her room. If Mitch had stayed over, she knew he would sleep in her bed of all places.

When she reached her room, Nola cracked open the door and released a deep sigh of relief when she noted that he was not there.

Standing in the doorway, Nola looked over at her alarm clock to find it was six-fifteen in the morning. School started in forty-five minutes.

It was then that Nola realized she was faced with a choice: she could go to the kitchen and make Mitch breakfast for he'd be back soon expecting a hot meal ready for him. Yet, in doing so she wouldn't have enough time to get ready for school and cover up the visible bruises.

On the flip side, she could get ready and, maybe, escape the house before Mitch came home.

Biting down on her bottom lip, Nola watched the clock change to six-sixteen. He'd be here in fourteen minutes. Exhaling, Nola knew she could fix breakfast much faster than she could get ready and hide the evidence of her lesson. 

Stepping out, Nola closed her door and made her way to the kitchen while hoping that she made the right meal for Mitch, this time.