"You're so stubborn!"
"Like Mother like Daughter Audrey, like mother like daughter."
"No, your like your father. So much like it your father."
"Really now, and how's that? Is it because I realized how much I hated-"
"No, it's because you are a grade a jackass."
"Fuck you!"
I stalked out of the penthouse suit where my mom and I were staying. Such a typical conversation between us. We never had really gotten along. She was so controlling, always forcing me into beauty pageants and photo shoots. So what if I had one every single pageant I had participated in. It wasn't good enough for her. I had to win it all. Especially after she divorced my father for a young lawyer tensions grew between her and I. Eventually I down right hated her. Hated her for being alive while my beloved father lie six feet under. He committed suicide shortly after my fifteenth birthday. All he had wanted was to take me out for my birthday, but no Audrey decided it was out of the question.
"Why can't I see her?" Dad desperately pleaded in our doorway.
"Because she has a photo shoot tomorrow, I won't have her all worn out during it! She must give her best performance." My mother's scornful voice drifted up the stairs.
"Audrey, just five minutes with her. I want to at least see her." Dad attempted again, "Please."
"No Cameron. You do that and she will be convinced I'm the bad guy. Then she'll beg and scream to go with you. I'm not going to allow that!" Audrey's tone became so shrill that it seemed she could've broken glass.
The slam of our front door could be heard upstairs where my newly fifteen-year-old self sat crying. Wishing that Audrey would just drop dead and then I could be free to go with my dad.
"YOU KNOW WHAT THIS IS AUIDRY? DO YOU?" My Dad bellowed through the closed door, "THIS IS YOU TRYING TO MAKE UP FOR THE FACT YOU NEVER MADE IT IN MODELING! THE FACT THAT YOU WEREN'T PRETTY ENOUGH!"
"I'M CALLING THE POLICE IF YOU STAY EVEN A SECOND LONGER CAMERON!" bawled Audrey.
Scrambling off my Hello Kitty sheets I pressed my face to the glass. It fogged with every breath I took. I was just in time to see my father run his hand through his chestnut hair, already thinning. He sighed and sulked down the stone path to the street where his beaten up Buick Le Saber was parked. He stood outside the driver's side door, he seemed to hesitate. Before climbing into the car he gazed up to my window. I'm not sure if even saw me there, tears streaking my face. Make-up running and smudging against the cold window. He smiled slightly. Not one of those happy smiles, but a rueful kind of bittersweet smile. I swear we made eye contact. Brown eye's locking for a second. An eternity all in about four seconds. He climbed into his car. I watched fervently as his tail lights grew weaker and weaker in the fading light of the day. Darkness ate the tiny lights. That would be the last time I saw my father.
The elevator I was on stopped, not yet at the bottom floor. A boy, not much older than myself, staggered in. Barely was I able to distinguish his features beneath his oversized Insane Clown Posse hoodie. Leaning his head against the wall opposite mine he inhaled thickly. Almost as if he were breathing for the first time. His misted green eyes rolled into the back of his head and he shrank to the floor. Panic swept through my blood. Was he dead? I knelt beside him grasped his shoulders and shook him.
"Hey! Hey! Are you okay?" I questioned.
I shook him again. The movement made his black hood fall back revealing a mass of matted chestnut hair. It stuck up this way and that surprisingly full of life for six inches long. Shaking him once more I franticly repeated my question,
"Are you okay?"
I shook him as hard as I could, fingers loosing grip on the fabric of the hoodie. More panicked than anything else I felt my heart beating triple it's normal rate.
"Please wake up!" I exclaimed.
Almost like magic the boys eyes snapped open, immediately staring at me almost hungrily.
"Get away from me." the boy mumbled.
"What?" I demanded angrily.
"Get the hell away from me!" The boy snarled swatting my hands away with such force I flew backward.
"Christ kid," I stammered trying to remain composed.
I slid up slightly rubbing my wrists, and confirmed to myself that feeling remained in them. For the first time in a long time I was afraid.