I sat dignifiedly with my legs crossed and nose in the air as I glared uncaringly at my mother. She irked me continuously, and I was growing more and more cross as this little intervention wore on. I barely retained my mother's emotional soap box speech, and I didn't bother to disguise my disgust at her. My lips sort of tilted into a grimace as if I was looking at something nasty or foul and my eyes rolled almost nonstop. Did I care what she had to say? No, I didn't. My mother, the corporate lawyer, sat at the head of the table in her high scale office in the highest wing of the fifteen story building. All I could think was, Wow, she's an ass. She gave me her best false smile though I had no idea why she wasted the effort on me. I inherited that smile. I knew she was only fronting artificial emotions. I cracked a lopsided smirk of my own. She thought she was playing me. How quaint. So, in spite, I dug through my black designer purse for my eyeliner. Not that I needed much more. My eyes already looked enough like a raccoon's for my liking. I guess being gothic does that to you? I'm constantly applying more and more layers of eyeliner when I'm nervous. Which is funny, consider I wasn't edgy now. I was pissed. Upset that my mother supposed she could con my into whatever scheme she planned.

"Are you listening, Lily?" my mother raised her voice as I snapped my compact shut and tossed that and my charcoal eyeliner into my purse. She was still presently agitated at my wardrobe. I could see it in her eyes and she looked me over. Her, in her pristine baby blue business suit, and me in thin layers of mesh black over a skimpy black slip dress complemented by a studded belt that I knew she despised. I just assumed it was my combat boots that set her off, but since she hadn't noticed them yet, I supposed not.

"I'm always listening." I replied, and she seemed to wait for something. "Mother."

There, she was appeased. Did she need me to end every sentence with mother? Jeez, like I need reminding that this cold hearted lady brought me into this world. If only she'd left me out of it too…

"You were never a good lair." She commented smugly.

"And you were never a good mother." I mumbled back, loudly enough for her to overhear. Before she could manage a retort, I cut right to the point. "What the hell is it you want?"

She smiled. Not the warm, inviting smile a mother would project, but an evil, calculating one she'd give her opponents in the courtroom. Shit.

"Now, listen this time." She started out urgently. "I have a very…interested…client coming here. He's foreign, and he happens to have a son your age—"

Of course, I mentally slapped myself. Another blind date. My mother give the impression that she controls my love life, not me. Well, she has another thing coming.

So far, any of her prospective consorts that she lined up for me…have…rr...'mysteriously' cut off contact with me. Of my own request, but I didn't mention that part. I never do. But there was one phrase in particular that threw me off.

"And the wedding is—"

"Wedding?" I echoed blankly. Whose wedding?

"Yours, darling. Weren't you listening?" she said irately. No, I just pretend to pay attention. There's a difference. I'm starting to see that now.

"WHAT?" I screamed and jumped to my feet. I pointed a finger at the witch seated across from me at the office table. "You have to be fucking—"

"Now, Lily. Don't take that tone with me!" she yelled back.

"But, Mother! I'm not marrying someone." I screamed.

"You have to! It's an arranged marriage, for Christ sakes, can't you stop being so depressing and touchy to consider my feelings on this?"

"What?" I asked, confused.

"This is your father's idea, not mine. I wanted you to choose someone respectable, but, no, you had to chase them all off! Now you forced your poor father into arranging a marriage just to secure yours and our future!"

"You're such a—"I shouted loud enough that a secretary peeked in through the door. Probably making sure we didn't cause any bloodshed. Yet. I stormed out of the office in a huff, not taking in the sight of my father lounging in a waiting room chair until he jumped up to block my path. He grabbed my shoulders, and I glared up at him through thick eyeliner rimmed eyes.

"Now, honey. You know this is for your own good!" he started, fretfully. "I'm not even sure you can handle this…"

"Handle what exactly?" I demanded in a frenzy.

"You're obviously not ready to have an intimate relationship with—"

"You're saying I can't?" I asked, feeling challenged. They don't know me, don't know what I'm capable of. Whose to say I could or couldn't manage a fiancé? "Alright, dad. I'll make a deal."

He clearly slumped with relief. They were preparing for a reckoning, I assume.

They weren't far off.

"What is it, sweetheart?" he asked sweetly. Ugh, I thought, what a suck up.

"I'll keep this arranged marriage deal." I compromised. "But, you and mother let me move out."

"Why?" he asked, bewildered.

"I hate you." I clarified firmly. I hate them with a new intensity now. They had no idea. He didn't seem perturbed by it. My hate announcements were nothing new to them, and I saw that jaded look he always gave me. It was rather unnerving, and almost as strange as my mother's calculating smile. I wanted nothing more than to slap that smug expression from his face. He apparently thought he had won.

"One condition!" He called to my retreating back as I stomped to the elevator. I scowled at him over my shoulder as my combat boots shattered the silence of the office complex. Clearly, all the employees were in hiding from the noise of my outburst, but I didn't feel ashamed about that. I felt ashamed that those to humans were my parents, and there were no refunds on them. I flipped him an unkind finger and snickered to myself at his stunned expression before his self satisfied look returned.

"You can move out, but we pick the place."

"And it better not be next door." I added as the elevator rolled open. As long as I escaped them, I could live in a box for all I care. God damn them, I cursed I sprinted out of the lobby and onto the sidewalk. With vendetta on my mind, I had plenty ideas on who to take it out on. Goodbye, fiancé. You're definitely taking a risk with me… I chuckled to myself. My new fiancé wouldn't last more than a day or even a week with a stubbornly difficult girl like me. How may other rich gothic teenagers do you see around here? I doubt he'd be expecting me.