To say that Myra had never been close to her father, would be a significant understatement. He rarely talked to her; often opting to buy her material items in place of showing her any kind of care or affection.
Not that he was a completely cold man. There had been a moment or two where he had let his playful side get the better of him; having a water-fight with her one time when he was cleaning his car, or even the time he pathetically 'helped' fix her Halloween costume when she was very small.
But overall Victor Mortimer wasn't a very emotional man; or a talkative one, whenever it came to matters of his wife and daughter.
So, when he had warmly invited her to a 'take your kid to work day', when she was twelve, she had keenly accepted. Myra had high hopes of bonding with her father as they drove to the large, overly-flashy building, where he worked. Of course, he didn't just work there; he was the CEO and owner of the entire business and building.
Victor cleared his throat as they pulled into his parking space, "Now Myra, there are a lot of people who look up to me as an authority figure. I implore you not to do anything that will embarrass me, or tarnish my name." His face was the usual, blank stern expression.
Myra nodded her head, "I assure you I will not do anything of the sort, sir."
He nodded, almost sighing in relief, "Very good." He said before they exited the car.
She had endured the long elevator journey to the top of the building, listening to the dull music playing. She stole several side-glances at her father, but he continued staring ahead, until the doors opened.
A woman instantly greeted them. She had dark, silky hair pulled back into a neat pony-tail. She was wearing a grey suit-dress outfit, which complimented her steely eyes as she smiled at Victor.
"Good morning, sir!" she smiled, holding several folders towards him, "We have a few merger deals that need to be revised, whenever you have a moment." She let out a gasp of delight as she glanced down at Myra, "Oh my goodness, gracious!" She gasped, "Is this your daughter?"
Victor suddenly placed his hand on Myra's head and gave it a playful scruff, "Yes, this is my lovely daughter Myra." He said, his voice booming through the cubicles.
Heads started appearing over the partition walls to glance in her direction. Suddenly a room full of eyes were on her.
"Hello, it's nice to meet you." Myra said, attempting to sound pleasant.
Victor nodded his head and grasped the folders from the woman, "Annette, could you please look after Myra today? Give her a few tasks etc. She's quite the bright young lady- don't be afraid to give her something to really sink her teeth into." Myra saw her father smile widely. It was only the second time she had ever seen him smile in her entire life.
"Certainly, Sir!" Annette smiled at him.
Annette led her away, "Now sweetie, you really must tell me about yourself!"
Myra had spent the whole day learning about business analysis and investment risk management. Annette had also set her to work photocopying some files and notes to fill in some extra time.
Overall, it hadn't been what she had been expecting; she had really hoped to spend the day with her father. She was angry at herself for having such high hopes.
It was getting late and Annette kept on looking at the clock. It was nearly seven in the evening; no doubt she was itching to go home to her family… or cats, judging by a few stray hairs on the back of her blouse.
"Why don't you go?" Myra smiled at her, stapling a set of papers together, "I can manage from here; and if not, my father is in his office."
Annette let out a weary sigh and nodded her head, "Thank you, sweetie; you're a gem." She started gathering her coat and bag, "If only my own daughter was as kind, patient and thoughtful as you are!"
Myra resisted to roll her eyes as Annette disappeared inside the elevator.
Another hour ticked by, excruciatingly slow, and Myra had finally had enough. She strode towards her father's office and opened the door, feeling suddenly sick at the sight before her.
What she saw shocked her. Her father was with a strange, blonde woman, who he had bent over his desk crudely; her clothes completely gone.
Myra let out a shocked gasp and quickly left the room.
"Myra!" her dad shouted in a mixture of panic and anger.
Her face was burning with shame and embarrassment as her dad stormed through the doors and grasped her by the shoulders.
"Myra- don't you know how to knock?" He snapped furiously. "When my office door is closed, that means I am busy."
"You mean 'busy' fucking some strange whore!" Myra snapped, tears burning in her eyes from his betrayal. What would her mother do when she found out?
He slapped her in the face hard. She felt the sharp sting against her cheek, which was followed by a hollow ringing in her ears. Pain radiated from the left side of her face.
"How dare you use that kind of filthy language?!" He was seething, "Ladies don't use such abhorrent words!"
Myra was physically biting her tongue to prevent from saying more, her eyes already leaking tears she stubbornly didn't want to shed.
There was a brief pause and her father let out a sigh, "What you saw… Let's not tell your mother about it, shall we?" he was frowning, "In return, I will allow you to continue to be friends with that impoverished boy across the street."
Myra scowled at him, "You can't stop me from being friends with Rick!" She snapped, "You can't control every aspect of my life!"
He raised his hand to strike her again and she flinched away from him.
His lip curled in irritation, "Don't test me, young lady." He said through clenched teeth.
Myra closed her mouth, forming a firm line as more tears streamed down her face.
"Wipe that pathetic look off your face." He frowned at her, "Let me awaken you to the real world, Myra." His dark eyes seemed to grow impossibly darker, "There is no such thing as love. It is merely something romanticised by women who have nothing better to do with their days. Marriage is nothing more than a contract between two people, who are forced to spend the rest of their lives together and combine their wealth, or separate everything, right down the middle." He pointed his finger at her, "I will get a say over who you befriend and marry, for the simple fact that I can have bad things happen to people I don't like." He paused, "That Sanchez boy across the street has already been walking on thin ice with his influence over you; don't push me to make that phone call that will remove him from the picture forever."
Myra's eyes went wide in disbelief.
"Have I made myself clear?" Her father asked in an agitated tone.
Myra nodded her head, her shoulders slumped in defeat, "Crystal clear, sir." She murmured, lowering her gaze.
He straightened his shoulders, "Good, now go and wait in the car." He frowned at her, his stern gaze boring a hole in her.
Myra didn't wait in the car.
She had run through the streets, not stopping once, even when it started to pour with rain. Myra had tripped over several times, scraping her arms and legs, but she refused to stop- until she reached the front door of the Sanchez' house.
She pounded on the door, somewhat furiously until Mrs Sanchez opened the door and gasped at the sight of her.
"Myra!" She gasped , quickly dragging her into the warmth of their home, "Oh my goodness! Get in here!" She whirled her through the house, snatching up a towel from the bathroom. She wrapped it around her and held her close.
"What's the matter, sweetie?" Mrs Sanchez asked in a low tone, her arms tightening as Myra began to sob pathetically. "What happened?" She was stroking her sodden hair comfortingly and Myra's arms eventually wound around the woman, clinging to her tightly.
"Shh, shh…" Mrs Sanchez whispered, "Let's get you out of those wet clothes and you can tell me everything, ok?"
Rick had been in his room when Myra had suddenly appeared at his house. He could overhear his mother trying to murmur words of comfort to her; he could gather that she was upset over something by her choking sobs.
He stepped towards the living room, "Everything ok, Morty?" He asked, feeling perplexed and at a loss as to what to do.
She suddenly rushed forward and threw her arms around him, completely losing her composure. Her entire body was cold and sodden from being out in the rain for far too long. He patted her back awkwardly, feeling her damp body pressed against him.
"I… uhh.." Rick muttered uncomfortably, "I'm here… for you… I guess?" He shot his mother a questioning glance and she gave him a thumbs up and signalled for him to continue. "Ugh… what… happened?"
His mother gave another affirmative sign and stepped past them, "I'll go get some clothes for you to change into." Beverly smiled and disappeared down the hall.
Myra broke away suddenly, wiping her red eyes, "I'm sorry to turn up so unexpectedly… and for embracing you. I know you're not a hugger." She was looking at her feet uneasily, "All I could think about was coming here; I really need a friend right now."
Rick scratched his chin thoughtfully, "A friend…hmm.." He met her eyes with a puzzled look, "I-I mean, don't girls usually band together for this kind of emotional crap?" He shrugged, "I know you don't exactly have friends, but geez…"
Myra frowned at him, "Very funny, Rick Sanchez. And how very hypocritical for you to say."
He shrugged his shoulders again, "I-I don't need friends. I have you; and trust me you have enough moods these days to make up for a dozen more."
"It's called puberty; do I need to explain further?" She frowned, folding her arms across her chest.
He smirked at her, "Great, for future reference I can make all the period jokes I want."
"No you can't!" Mrs Sanchez scowled, suddenly appearing in the room with a set of Rick's clothes, "There is never an excuse for such vulgarity, Richard!"
Rick chortled, more to himself than to anyone else.
Myra accepted the clothes from his mother, "Thank you, Mrs Sanchez."
She smiled back in response, "So is everything ok? Would you like to tell me what happened?"
Myra's face paled slightly, "I saw my father… cheating on my mother." She said, hanging her head slightly, "He hit me and then threatened… to hire a hitman, I guess- if I told my mother."
Mrs Sanchez gasped, slumping back onto the couch, "Oh my word!" she was holding her hand to her chest in disbelief.
"That's pretty fucked up." Rick stated.
"Language !" Mrs Sanchez snapped sternly.
Rick shrugged his shoulders, "What? It is fucked up though; I'm guessing from that red mark on the left side t-that's where he hit you?" He motioned to the large, red welt on Myra's face.
Her hand wandered to it and she nodded gently, "yes."
"What kind of asshole father hits his daughter?" Rick scowled in disbelief.
"The filth that comes out of your mouth, Mr!" Beverly snapped at him, "Do I need to get the soap to wash your mouth out?"
Rick frowned at her, "Last time I-I pretty much ate the whole bar. I-I was shitting suds for a week." He shrugged his shoulders, "Can't say t-that it improved my 'foul language' in the slightest."
Beverly shook her head in disappointment, and climbed to her feet, "How about I make some hot cocoa…" She disappeared into the kitchen.
"So you just ran all the way here, from your dad's office?" Rick's eyes wandered to Myra.
She nodded her head, "Honestly there's no place I'd rather be." Myra's expression was pained, "I know that sounds idiotic, but I don't exactly feel that my mother would be an option for comfort."
Rick snorted, "Yeah, that'd be like me running to my dad for anything; but hey I-I guess I can't complain; I only have the one shitty parent."
Myra sighed and nodded, before motioning to the clothes in her hands, "I guess I'd better go get changed…"
She disappeared in the direction of the bathroom.
There was a few moments of silence before Rick could overhear his parents having a hushed conversation in the kitchen. His dad had clearly surfaced from his office to see what all the commotion was.
"… what do we do? We can't exactly let her go back to that home of hers… at least not tonight!" it was his mother's voice.
"Are you kidding!? I guarantee the cops will be swarming all over this neighbourhood come morning!" His dad sounded annoyed, "Do you know how much INFLUENCE Victor has in this town?"
Beverly let out an exasperated sigh, "I will call her mother…hopefully I can talk some sense into the woman to let her stay the night."
Myra had appeared from the bathroom, she tossed her sopping, wet dress at him, smacking him in the head.
"Fuck!" He snapped, letting it drop to the floor with a squelch, "That's gross."
Myra smirked at him, and for the first time he was acutely aware that they were on opposite ends of the gender spectrum. Her body was beginning to change; albeit undramatically, but certainly enough for him to notice, especially while she was wearing his clothes.
"What's with that weird look on your face?" Myra was frowning at him.
He cleared his throat, "Uhh… my parents are talking about getting your mother to l-let you stay the night."
Myra snorted, "Pfft, it's after nine in the evening; she'll say yes to anything right now- she'll be tanked." She made a chugging motion with her hand, followed by glugging noises.
Rick smirked at her, "Now I know when to go to your mother, asking her to sign a rather sizeable check."
Myra grinned back in response, "Oh, I encourage it!"
Rick's parents appeared from the kitchen, both looking from him to Myra.
"Looks like you can stay here the night… though I'm not quite sure if your mother is really in the state to be making decisions right now…" Beverly frowned in confusion.
Myra shrugged, "It'll be fine; I'll make an appearance over there tomorrow morning."
Rick's dad cleared his throat, "Now… as for the sleeping arrangements.."
"Geez, dad!" Rick rolled his eyes, "I-I understand that parents frown on preteen kids, of opposite genders, sleeping in the same room together, but it's not like we're even remotely interested in… stuff…"
"Cut the crap, I was a young boy once, too." Rod frowned at him, "All I want is for the door to remain open. Any funny business and my foot will be up your ass." He pointed a finger warningly at his son.
"Sounds like a fair deal." Myra snickered.
Rick cleared his throat, "Hey mom, I believe there was talk of hot cocoa… I uh… don't see any." His eyes wandered to his mother.
Beverly smiled and shook her head at him, "OK, it's coming." She chuckled, and disappeared back into the kitchen.
Rod nodded, "Very well, I will be off to bed- as it is a work day for me tomorrow." He glanced at Myra, "Have a good sleep, Myra. Rick; don't be an ass." He said as he walked past them and left for his bedroom.
Rick rolled his eyes, "I'll never understand that man." He glanced at Myra, "C'mon I-I'll get your bed set up." He motioned for her to follow him to his room.
He pulled the fold-out cot from beneath his bed and unfolded it, giving it a good heave. He frowned when it was finally unfurled, glancing at the thin mattress with a frown, before Myra flopped down onto it without another word.
She let out a noise of agitation as she sprawled out on the cot, opening her eyes to stare up at him, "Do you know how long I've wanted to have a sleep-over here?" She was grinning suddenly; the swollen side of her face barely moving.
Rick cleared his throat, "uhh…" He glanced away, suddenly feeling awkward from the sight of her sprawled out, "I-I honestly have no idea."
Myra shrugged, "Pretty much the day we decided to be friends." She said, sitting up suddenly, "I remember on my seventh birthday how heartbroken I was when my mother wouldn't let you come to my party."
"To be perfectly fair, I-it was a princess dress-up party." Rick shrugged, "I-I don't think my conservative father would be in favour of me dressing up in drag."
Myra snickered, "Like that's stopped you before!" She glanced towards the door as his mother appeared, holding two steaming mugs of hot chocolate. "Thanks, Mrs Sanchez!" Myra smiled.
Beverly handed them their drinks and tucked her strawberry locks behind her ear, out of her face, "Well it certainly looks like you're in a better mood." She smiled pleasantly, "If you need me, just shout." She said, glancing between them with a knowing smirk, before she disappeared into the hallway.
There was a moment of silence, before Rick grasped some extra blankets out of his cupboard and tossed them in a heap onto Myra.
"So, I have a proposal to deal with that asshole father of yours." Rick said, sitting on his bed and taking a lengthy sip of his cocoa.
"I'm listening…" Myra seemed to perk up, she was sitting up, her eyes focused intently on him.
"I'm in the middle of making an extremely potent laxative agent- for… reasons. I say we use it on your father so he can l-literally shit himself to death." Rick was smirking manically.
"Mhmm… mhmm.." Myra was nodding her head, "Or we could just make it so he shits his pants in front of everyone…" she shrugged her shoulders, "I don't exactly want to give him the significance in my life, to the point where I want to kill him. If you can understand that…"
"Ugh I guess?" Rick shrugged, "Honestly I think you'd be better off without him being a dick." He shook his head disapprovingly, "I-I still can't believe he hit you… I mean, t-that shit is going to bruise."
Myra shrugged her shoulders, "I'll live." She took a sip of cocoa, as it gathering some thoughts together, "When your parents hate each other as much as mine do… nothing else can be so painful, comparatively speaking." She met his quizzical stare, "I can't think of anything worse than being trapped in a relationship, only to have that bitterness and resentment poison every aspect of your life." She lowered her gaze, "My parents can only think about how much they don't want to be together; they don't think about how all of their conflict and hatred is affecting me. They never think about me; only their feelings of resentment towards each other. Being forced together, for the sake of money? That's the stupidest thing…"
Rick felt his face contorting in uncertainty, at a loss as to what to say to her. He let out a little, uncomfortable chuckle, "I-I guess you'll know that for whenever you get married, then."
Myra looked at him, her face dark with severity, "Oh, I have no intention of getting married." She said flatly, "Just the very idea of being forever shackled with someone is horrifying."
Rick gulped at the anger in her eyes at the notion, "y-you know… divorce is a thing, Morty."
Myra snorted, "That's beside the point. Marriage is nothing more than a meaningless contract for legality reasons alone. Sure, it can be fobbed off as two people 'uniting' or 'expressing' their love but that is a huge, steaming, pile of shit." She sounded disgusted, "Love is nothing more than a cocktail of chemicals created by our brains. Our experiments with the voles proved that."
Rick thought for a moment, "I've been thinking the exact same thing; I-it's like our bodies are running on this primitive code that says 'eat this', 'do this' and 'fuck this'; i-if anything we're all just running according to our biological programming; all these personal attachments are simply an increased fondness for the familiarity of people, places and things." Rick stated, "I-If you think about it; the longer you are exposed to someone the more attachment you have to said person; which could be argued why most people 'love' their parents so god-damned much; they are the people they've been exposed to the longest."
Myra shrugged her shoulders, "I guess- that's not accounting for the cases, such as mine, where both parents are significantly more asshole-ish than the average."
Rick nodded, "right."
Myra let out a sigh, "Guess I can settle for being increasingly fond of you. You're the only person I can tolerate for more than an hour at a time."
Rick snorted at her, "You poor, stupid, fucker."
They were teenagers before they knew it. Time certainly flew, in their early lives.
It was Myra's fourteenth birthday and her parents had thrown a rather pompous soiree; making sure to invite all the local rich tits and their eligible sons. The kind of people Myra resented; the type of self-righteous ignoramuses that would sell their kids into slavery, if it got them a decent profit.
Ok, that was perhaps her parents… but she certainly got similar vibes from the other wealthy nobs.
She was attempting to hide in her bedroom and do a bit of light reading. Of course, that was practically impossible with her mother attempting to usher the boys into her room to make small-talk.
"This is Harrison Wentworth, dearest." Her mother's voice was dripping with pleasantry. Myra glared up from her book and stared at the awkward boy. He was perhaps fourteen or fifteen; definitely in the awkward thralls of puberty. His hands and feet seemed far too large for his body; his overall shape long and lanky. He was sporting a pair of braces, which were desperately trying to correct his crooked teeth.
He gave her an anxious wave, "H-hey…"
Myra felt her brow cock in scepticism, "Hello Harry."
"It's Harrison.." he corrected, his voice breaking with nerves.
"Shame…" Myra said, glancing back down at her book, "I might have liked you more if you were a 'Harry'."
"Myra…" Her mother's tone was filled with tension.
Myra glanced up and closed her book with a sigh. She placed the book on the windowsill seat beside her and glanced at Harrison, "How much do you know about nano biotic procedures- I'm mostly interested in the medical kind, really…"
Harrison's brow curved in confusion, glancing from Myra to her mother, "Nano….?"
"You see, anything that can get beneath the subdermal level and actually heal people; now that is truly what fascinates me. Last year I was electrocuted by a tesla coil, we were syphoning power for, from the local power plant; but you see we had created a practically invisible nano bot field that actually absorbed the energy from the electrical current. I came out with no more than frizzy hair from static." Myra rambled, feeling satisfaction bubbling as her mother's expression turned dark and Harrison looked extremely confused.
"I-I…" Harrison shot Myra's mother a pleading glance.
"It's ok… Myra is simply humouring you… she likes to read a little here and there…" Her mother was grasping at straws.
"You see, Harrison… a friendship, or otherwise would mean that I non-stop talk, this mumbo jumbo. That's simply all I am interested in." She shrugged her shoulders, feeling her mouth curve into a belittling smirk, "I highly doubt you could keep up."
Harrison stood in silence for a few moments, before he cleared his throat, "I'm going to… get a drink…" He mumbled and left the room.
Myra's mother was glaring at her, before she let out a weary sigh, "I guess I don't really care about that one too much… his parents aren't exactly on the same branch of the money tree…" She frowned, "But that was the eight boy you've enjoyed belittling this evening!" She hissed in a hushed tone, "What the hell is wrong with you?!"
Myra shrugged her shoulders, "I can tell just by watching you and my father…" She said, frowning, "No amount of wealth can buy a happy relationship."
Her mother snarled, her grip tightening on her glass until her knuckles turned white. She shook her head, "At this stage I highly doubt any boy will want you; not even that Sanchez moron!" the name rolled off her tongue like it was made of something disgusting, "But who knows, maybe living in absolute squalor will make a swine like you happy."
Myra let out a little snort, rolling her eyes, "I'd honestly rather that, than risk turning into you."
Her mother pursed her lips in fury, her gaze turning darker by the second, "Your father will be hearing about this…" She snarled, before turning on her heel and disappearing down the hall.
"Great." Myra muttered to herself. Getting her father involved in their disputes was a recent development; her mother was far too fearful of beating her; she didn't want to leave a mark on her prized cow.
Her father, on the other hand wasn't afraid to give her a belting.
"Jesus, I thought she'd never leave!" Rick's voice came from the open window. He poked his head up, his brow cocking in amusement, "Y-you going to climb down now…?"
Myra smirked, "Yup; I just bought myself a few hours." She said, swiftly removing her dress to reveal a set of trousers and shirt, "She won't want to see or hear from me for the rest of the evening; she'll probably tell everyone I am asleep." She grinned, "Let's go, Sanchez!"
She threw her legs over the edge, landing on the section of rubber lawn Rick had sneakily installed a week earlier. It blended in to the rest of the grass; they would only have to worry whenever the lawn around it started to grow past a certain point.
"C'mon! The gardener will be doing his evening rounds any minute now!" She hissed in urgency.
Rick smirked as they raced across the lawn, ducking through some overgrown bushes near the edge of the property. They had removed a section of the iron fence, a few years prior; ensuring that she could always make an escape. So far no-one had discovered it; so she could continue to disappear whenever she felt like it.
They uncovered their bikes, which were crudely hidden under some branches, Myra's smile broadening the further away from her house they got.
"Hey!" Rick called as she clambered onto her bike.
Myra glanced at him quizzingly, "Something on your mind, Sanchez?"
Rick cleared his throat, "I-I was thinking…"
"Oooh… hope you didn't burst a vessel…" Myra said teasingly.
"My parents gave me th-these tickets…" He withdrew two movie passes from his pocket, "Said we should go somewhere nice for your birthday…."
Myra studied the tickets in his hand for a few moments, "Lets go see DR Strangelove!" she grinned suddenly, "It's probably filled with many technical inaccuracies, but hey- it's comedy!"
Rick snickered, "Y-yeah… Let's get out of here, you hormonal bone-head."
