Rise of the big bad son-in-law

Chapter one

Tap

Jamal felt a little pinch on the face, deep asleep, he merely stirred gently.

The pinch came again, more pronounced this time, but he was too tired to react to it, instead he turned towards the other side of bed, still consumed with a deep wave of sleep. 

Then, just like a water park exploded over his face, Jamal jerked up as he felt his clothes soaking wet, and his face drenched. 

"What the...

The rest of his sentence was forced back to his throat as his gaze landed on the figure standing a few feet away from his bed. 

Mrs Smith, his mother in-law. 

She stood tall, radiating intimidation, an empty wine glass in her hand, her face crumpled into a raging frown. 

"How can someone without a cent to their name sleep so lazily? I've been standing here for hours!" She growled angrily. 

"Ma'am, you didn't have to...

"To what?" She quickly cut him off. "Waste an entire expensive glass of wine on you? It's worth more than your entire existence." 

Jamal felt a painful tinge, as her words pierced through his heart. 

It wasn't his first time hearing those words from her since the past two years, but each one always felt as hurtful as the first. 

"I'm.. I'm sorry, I just really had a long day yesterday, I didn't mean to sleep so hard." Jamal mumbled, using his hand to wipe off the ripples of juice slipping into his eyes. 

"A long day? Just because you helped clean up the hall for my birthday reception huh? Why are you so lazy with everything? Mark and David also helped out," She spat. 

Jamal was badly tempted to tell her that they didn't help out during the cleaning a tiny bit, they only stood around and watched him do all the work, but that would only worsen the situation. 

"I'm sorry ma'am." He muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. 

"Save me your pathetic apologies, everything is set for my birthday party, I'd rather have you stay at home and do the chores but people will talk so you're allowed in, but you mustn't do anything to affect the family's name. You'd be sorry if you do anything of such."

Jamal immediately nodded frantically. "Yes ma'am."

She rolled her eyes at him, turning on her heels and stormed out of the room. 

A deep sigh escaped Jamal's lips as his gaze fell on the wet bed. 

She wasn't sorry for wetting him, she was rather pissed that she had to waste her expensive wine. 

He wasn't sure when it was all going to end, but one thing was sure, he loves Eva more than anything and that was enough strength to try and put up with her family. 

**

Jamal adjusted his tie, glancing once more at his reflection in the side mirror near the garage. The suit, though worn and slightly frayed at the edges, was his best. It was all he had left of his former life. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the evening ahead.

He stepped into the garage, and just as he was about to head toward the car parked at the entrance, it roared to life. The Smiths were already leaving.

Mrs Smith, seated comfortably in the back seat, spotted him through the tinted window and let out a cold laugh. “Would you look at that? The pauper thinks he’s joining us.”

Jamal quickened his steps, reaching for the door handle of the car, but before his fingers could grasp it, Mark swung the door open, hitting Jamal squarely in the chest and sending him stumbling backward.

“Back off, pest,” He sneered, stepping out just enough to block Jamal’s path. “This car’s no place for charity cases.”

David leaned over from the driver’s seat, smirking. “Yeah, don’t think we’re giving you a free ride, such an ungrateful tard, haven't we done enough for you already?" 

Jamal steadied himself, swallowing the bitter lump rising in his throat. “Please I...I just thought we could go together. It’s the same party." 

Mrs Smith rolled down her window. “Do you honestly think we’d let you ruin the atmosphere of our car? You’d contaminate it with your poverty-stricken stench, find your own way. If you’re lucky, perhaps the party won't be over before you arrive." 

"Or maybe you can hitchhike, that suits your kind, doesn’t it?” Mark laughed mockingly. 

Jamal opened his mouth to protest, but the engine revved louder. With one last glance of mockery, the Smiths slammed the doors shut. The car sped out of the garage, the sound of their laughter trailing behind.

Left standing in the settling dust, Jamal felt his shoulders sag. His eyes stung, though he fought to keep the tears at bay, the humiliation was suffocating, he had dressed with such hope, believing for one fleeting moment that he could belong again. Now, he was reminded just how far he had fallen.

He drew a shaky breath, straightened his suit as best he could, and forced his legs to move. 

As he walked out of the house, Jamal scanned the quiet street, praying for the sight of a passing taxi, he had a few cents to board one.

*

After what felt like an eternity, he let out a sigh of relief as a taxi finally pulled over. His feet ached from standing at the roadside for so long.

 He opened the door quickly and slipped inside, mumbling the address of the party venue.

He dug into his pocket and pulled out all the cash he had managed to scrape together. With trembling hands, he passed the notes to the driver. “Here. It’s... it’s all I have.”

The driver counted the bills, his expression turning into a deep frown. “You kidding me? This isn’t enough. You think you can ride and not pay complete?”

“I’m sorry,” Jamal said quickly, staring at him with a pleading gaze. “Please, that’s all I have. I... I just needed to get here.”

The driver snorted, shaking his head. “Pathetic. Next time, walk.” He tossed the crumpled bills on the passenger seat and sped off.

Jamal stood there, swallowing the bitter taste of humiliation.

Inside, the party was in full swing already, laughter echoed through the hall, music played softly. Jamal paused near the entrance, watching as his in-laws mingled effortlessly among the guests, their faces adorned with smiles that masked the cruelty they had shown him.

 He moved toward the bar, determined to enjoy what little he could, a waiter passed by, and Jamal reached out, grabbing a glass of wine with a small nod.

Just as he lifted the glass to his lips, he heard a whisper behind.

“Isn’t that the Smiths’ in-law?” a woman whispered. “The one whose business failed?”

“Yes,” came a man’s voice, low as if trying to keep him from hearing them. “Poor thing. The Smiths have been taking care of him ever since, such kind people, imagine letting him stay after all that failure.”

Jamal’s stomach turned. 

The Smiths.. kind? If only these people knew the truth, if only they saw the way they made him beg for scraps.

He set the glass down, untouched, and walked away, pushing their voices out of his mind. But as he moved through the crowd, his eyes locked onto a scene that made his heart drop.

Eva. His wife. Laughing softly, her hand resting on the arm of a tall man wearing a richly looking suit; he whispered something in her ear, making her giggle, then leaned in to kiss her cheek, his hand resting a little too low on her waist.

Jamal froze, willing himself to look away, but the man’s touch grew bolder, his fingers tracing slow circles along Eva’s back. 

It was too much for Jamal to handle and before he knew it, his feet carried him forward, even if he tried to stop himself, he couldn't. 

He stopped just a few feet away from them, forcing a polite smile. “Eva. Can I have a word with you?”

The man turned, his eyes sweeping over Jamal with a ridiculing smirk. “And who’s this? Oh, wait. Don’t tell me. The failure husband.”

Eva chuckled amusedly. “Jamal, don’t embarrass yourself, go away.

Jamal’s jaw tightened. “Please, Eva. Let’s just talk. Away from...

The man stepped between them, smirking. “She’s not interested in pathetic paupers of a partner, run along before you ruin her night.”

“I’m not looking for trouble,” Jamal mumbled, "Just let me talk to my...

"She is no longer yours, you can find your type in the streets." the man shoved him slightly on the arm. 

The last of Jamal’s restraint frayed. He reached for Eva’s arm, trying to gently pull her away. “Come on, Eva. Please.”

But the man shoved him back roughly. “Don’t touch her!”

Jamal stumbled, then, without thinking, his anger boiling over, he pushed the man in return. The force of it shocked even him, he watched in horror as the man staggered, his arms flailing, and then fell hard onto the hard floor.

A loud thud resounded through the hall as his head struck the ground. 

Suddenly, blood began to seep slowly from beneath him, totally terrifying.

Gasps erupted. The music stopped, and in a flash, the crowd gathered.

Jamal staggered backwards in horror, his heart pounding, the weight of what just happened crashing down on him.