July 13, 2008
The drunk population of Los Santos was hilarious... at least for the most part. Chrysanthemum found it fun to go out around midnight and screw with whatever unsuspecting victim she stumbled upon. The victims were drunks — alcoholics, and partiers mostly.
Currently the woman that Chrysanthemum was bullying had her face twisted in rage. She was probably twenty-something, and was out for a night with some friends. But Chrysanthemum had found her outside leaning against the wall of a bar, smoking a cigarette. Her purse was on the ground. So, naturally, Chrysanthemum snatched her purse and ran a few meters away from her.
The woman was pitiful, but Chrysanthemum couldn't help a fit of laughter from coming on. The drunk woman was yelling some unbelievably slurred curse words, and was stumbling madly trying to get close enough to Chrysanthemum to get her purse back. A couple of times, she tried to throw items (an empty booze bottle, dirty underwear, a needle, some grass) at Chrysanthemum, but she always stepped calmly out of the way. It was like a real life video game.
She was wearing something quite provocative, Chrysanthemum thought. It was a very short, red dress, with stiletto heels, and a spiked choker around her neck. The woman sort of reminded Chrysanthemum of the women her father would bring home drunk when he stayed out late. Then Chrysanthemum got to thinking, If he's really into this kind of women, why hasn't he swooped this one away yet?
But apparently the thought came to soon.
Moments later, her father stumbled out of the bar. He looked pissed about something, but quickly wiped the expression away when he saw the woman in the red dress. However, once he got close enough to the women to see her, he could also see the face of his daughter. A daughter who was supposed to be at home. A wave of rage fell over him, and he screamed loudly at Chrysanthemum.
"What the fuck are you doing here?"
Chrysanthemum didn't say anything, but did finally drop the woman's purse. She had to be ready to run at any second.
"Where the hell is your nanny?"
"She told me she was going out to get something and never came back." she said lowly. "I told you that... remember? You said you'd find another in the morning, but never did — "
"Bullshit!" he yelled.
"I'm not... I'm not... b-bullshitting you, sir. I swear!"
Her father yelled, "Hey! Watch your fucking mouth!" and swung a fist in her direction despite her standing a meter or two away.
And then Chrysanthemum bolted back in the direction of their house.
"Chrysanthemum, get back here this instant!"
But she knew better then to listen. And she ran, and ran, panting, sweating, and crying all the way home until her lungs were dry. She swung the front door open, locked it, and then sprinted up the staircase. There, Chrysanthemum ran down the hallway into her bedroom, and jammed the door shut with a chair. It wouldn't last long, but at least it could buy her some extra time.
And all Chrysanthemum Skelton did in that extra time was cry and cry and cry and cry until there were no tears left in her entire body.
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July 14, 2006
"Why's your eye blue?" one of the neighbourhood kids asked the next day, poking at the grass underneath his swing with a stick.
"It's purple, actually."
"Well, why's it purple then?" the kid said. "It looks like a bruise, and my mommy said that kids with bruises over their eyes are the ones that get beat up by their parents."
Chrysanthemum just shook her head.
"Why's your nose crooked now?"
"No reason." Chrysanthemum said sadly.
"Why's there cuts on your knuckles?"
"Why's your face stupid?" Chrys retorted angrily. But the kid wasn't fazed.
"Why's your lip split open?"
Chrysanthemum, annoyed, shook her head again, and let her slight swinging fall still. The kid had been bothering her about her injuries for what seemed like ages, and it was beginning to piss her off. If he asked one more time about why her eyes were blue, she might snap.
"You know you can tell me anything, right? Literally anything." he said, the tone in his voice so concerned that it made her sick to her stomach. "I'm listenin'. We're friends, Chrysanthemum. And that's a fact."
"We're not friends." she said bluntly, avoiding eye contact. "I don't know why you're here. Just... please leave me alone."
He sighed, and then jumped off his swing. Chrysanthemum couldn't remember his name, but he looked like a George. "My mommy was right about you... You're strange." And that was that.
"Well..." Chrysanthemum called after him, eyebrows scrunched in thought. "Your mother is stupid."
But he didn't hear her, and Chrysanthemum was secretly glad.
Moments later, Chrysanthemum heard the distinct sound of the screen door being pulled back on the patio. Her newest nanny (who her father had found last night after he'd finished "punishing" her) called out the back, "Chrysanthemum! Lunch!" Then took a drag off of her weird, skinny cigarette that smelt like skunk. Nannies weren't supposed to smoke in the house, but Chrysanthemum didn't tell because the smoke made her woozy and able to forget everything for awhile.
"Coming." Chrysanthemum called back, without a lot of desire to.
Once inside, the nanny shoved a bowl full of mushy soup toward Chrysanthemum. Scowling bitterly, she went and sat herself down at the dinner table, and began shoving heaping spoonfuls of the soup into her mouth. It tasted bland, but Chrysanthemum supposed bland was better than gross.
"Jesus, kid. Slow down." the nanny exclaimed, grabbing a bottle of pills from the very top shelf, and putting a few assorted ones into her hand. "You're gonna choke eating like that..."
Chrysanthemum mumbled something rude under her breath, then shoved another spoonful of soup into her mouth.
"What was that?" the nanny asked, handing Chrysanthemum the pills and sitting down at the table across from her.
"Oh, nothing." Chrysanthemum lied, swallowing the pills with water. "I'm just talking to myself again."
The nanny looked very concerned for a moment. "Do you... um... hear voices?"
Chrysanthemum laughed loudly, and stated, "I'm not schizophrenic. Don't worry about it."
"Where'd you learn a big word like that, huh?" the nanny asked, startled that the kid knew words that big at such a young age. "School teach ya that or something?"
"No, it's called reading book. You should try it sometime."
Before the nanny could discipline Chrysanthemum for being a smart ass, the front door swung open, and she ran to dispose of the joint in the sink. Moments later, her father walked into the room with a smug look on his face. He glanced at Chrysanthemum, wondering why his daughter had a black eye. He never remembered what he did in those drunken rages. But the concern for his daughter didn't last long. He then moved his gaze to the nervous looking nanny.
"We won't be needing your services anymore, Gertrud." he said loudly. "Please get out of here as quickly as possible, alright?" He was the living embodiment of the "all rich people are bastards" stereotype.
After the nanny had stomped out of the room, Chrysanthemum's father went and sat down next to his daughter. She kept looking at the table, but he wasn't demanding eye contact like he usually did. Instead, he hummed happily to the tune of a song she couldn't recognize. There was a silence broken only by his humming, until he spoke about the cuts on Chrysanthemum's face, as if he hadn't noticed them before.
"What happened to your face?" he asked, disinterested clearly. "Was it those neighbourhood kids again?"
Chrysanthemum had once tried to tell him that he had given her the bruises, but he flew into a rage. That was the first time he'd her her while he was sober. So Chrysanthemum just figured that if she wanted him to remain relatively calm, she would have to lie. Just like every other day. Just like every other circumstance.
So that's what she did every time it happened. "Yeah, it was those three boys I was telling you about. The big ones. They used fists and belts..."
And he always believed it. "Damn, we gotta get someone on their asses." But she knew he didn't mean that. Never did, never would. "Did you provoke them or anything?"
Chrysanthemum glanced up, looking at him with eyes full of hurt, and shook her head. "No. Not really."
"I see." he said, but what he really meant to say was, "I doubt it."
They then sat in silence again. The front door slammed as the nanny exited angrily, but that was the only sound for a few minutes. Chrysanthemum's father sat back in his chair, and sighed happily. The goofy smile plastered on his face made Chrysanthemum nervous, but she didn't tell him that she was.
"Why so happy?" she asked.
"So... awhile back, I met someone..." he said carefully, trying to approach what he was going to tell her like the way they did in the movies. "A woman."
Chrysanthemum tried to contain her disappointment, and sighed loudly. She knew where this was going. Him meeting a woman happened at least once every year, and always ended in a breakup. Usually, it was that they'd been cheating on each other the entire time. Then he'd come home, get drunk, and beat Chrysanthemum until he passed out on her bedroom floor. It was a tiring cycle.
"Really?" she asked.
"Yes... and... uh, we met a year ago when she came to Los Santos on a business trip." he said nervously. "So... I thought it might be time to take things with her to the next level."
Chrysanthemum thought, If he met her a year ago, why's he been going around with other women? But she knew the answer all too well. She just didn't want to admit to herself that her father was cheating scum.
"And I asked her to marry me."
Her mouth fell open, and her eyebrows scrunched. He wasn't the marrying type. Especially after his divorce with Chrysanthemum's mother.
"She lives in this town called Bullworth. It's.. uh... pretty far, so we'll be moving there shortly." he said slowly, taking in Chrysanthemum's variety of facial expressions. "There's a place for me to expand my business, and there's a really big house for us to move into. She has a son named Trent, which means you'll have a step-brother. And there's also an academy there as well. One of the toughest schools in the country."
"Sounds... fun." she said sarcastically.
"It is. The school teaches discipline and respect, unlike the one you're in now."
Chrysanthemum frowned, but quickly tried to cover it up with a fake smile. "Where's Bullworth?"
"In Maine."
Chrysanthemum squinted. From California to Maine? That was a long distance to travel for someone you barely knew.
A frown overtook her face.
"So start packing, alright?"
"Yeah. Sure."
"Also make sure to say bye to all of your friends, yeah?" he said, more or less realizing that his daughter was unpopular at school, but not knowing exactly how unpopular she was. "I'm sure they're gonna miss you."
Chrysanthemum shrugged. "Yeah, somehow I don't think that's going to be a problem."