Santa Barbra, California, 1988

A seventeen year old, raven haired teenager was slumped down in the back seat of a 1983 Ford Club Wagon, head angeled towards the window as the warm, salty air blasted her face. The wind was blowing the loose strands of hair haphazardly around her face. The peachy complexion of her face taking on a slightly pink tinge from being exposed to the sun for just a bit too long. Her eyes were closed and she appeared to be sleeping, but for the man driving the Wagon, he knew otherwise.

Danial LeBrun felt a twinge of guilt as he looked back at his daughter though the rear-view mirror. It wasn't really fair that she was caught up in this bitter separation between him and her whore-of-a-mother, Jacklyn. Danial refocused on the road ahead of him as the last three months of events came back to him in startling, irritatingly clear detail.

It started going to hell when Danial first caught Jacklyn in their matrimonial bed with a strange man. As he stood there in shock, hand gripping the door jam hard enough to turn his knuckles white, the only thing Jacklyn did after seeing him standing there was make a soft gasping 'oh' noise. The man that had just finished pleasuring Danial's wife turned to look at what Jacklyn was looking at and turned a shade paler than his already white, stoner skin was.

The voice that escaped his lips was unnatural and guttural, as he told the man to get out, so foreign sounding that it startled him a bit more than it may have scared the man clinging to his wife. The man bolted, only grabbing his pants as he ran from the room. Danial didn't notice as the man ducked past him to leave the room, for his gaze was focused on his wife, whom held the sheet up to her chest, eyes lowered at the bed, cheeks pink. She muttered a soft apology.

Against his better judgment, Danial decided to forgive her that once. Although he started to notice her odd behavior shortly after. She was working late, taking business trips, forgetting appointments, chores, her daughter's birthday for god's sake. He attempted marriage counseling, but when she missed the third appointment in a row and came home to find her high in the bathroom, he had enough.

She was probably too high to realize what was going on as Danial moved around the house, packing up his and his daughter's belongings, loading them up in the van as he finished a box. He stopped long enough to call his lawyer about the impending divorce before his daughter could get home from school. Danial didn't want his daughter to overhear that particular conversation. He was placing a suit case in the back of the van when she arrived home.

Danial grimaced, remembering that stunned, confused expression of knowing pain on her face. Those eyes, close to the shade of ice, were filled with tears. He glanced back at his daughter though the mirror. Those eyes were still closed, blocking out the bright sunlight, feigning sleep.

She just nodded, knowingly, going in the house to collect her school books and the last of her personal belongings. She had came back a few minutes later with a suitcase and her back pack. Danial locked up the house, got into the van, and the pair drove off to her school to return her books and remove her from attendance. As they returned to the van, she had climbed into the back seat and closed her eyes.

She had been like that since they left nearly four hours ago, even though Danial knew she wasn't asleep. She only did this when she was deep in thought. Danial looked back at the road, glancing at the sign stating that Santa Barbra was only fifteen miles away. He cleared his throat a bit before speaking in a gentle tone, "Jeana?"

Those ice colored eyes opened and she looked up to catch her father's eyes in the rear-view mirror. He tried to give her a smile, "We're almost there." The teenager nodded and returned to her former position, eyes once again closed.