11A/N: Hey! I was thinking, "This looks plain." SoI decided to add a few words here and there instead of just jumping into the story, no? And thanks to Laughter N Ur Head07891 , crazymonkeychick and reviewing! I would really appreciate it if anyone who reads this reviews too. I run out of ideas all the time. Thanks!
Something Worth Remembering
.Out Of Here. 5 .
greythoughts
Ugh.
My Dad had gone around sleeping with different women.
Surprising, no? I mean, sure, he looks pretty young at the age of forty-three. Still a little handsome, if someone held a double-edged sword up to my neck and forced me to admit it (he's my Dad! I can't exactly go around telling people how delicious my Dad looks, right?).
But still! He didn't have to go around ravishing girls about half his age in some dingy half-star motel with bugs squashed under their sweat covered bodies as they made hot, passionate love . . .
And getting one pregnant as well.
It's kind of funny, come to think of it. My Dad. Getting some pure innocent pregnant. To think he's the adult, and I'm the one to reprimand him on being 'stupid enough to not use a condom'.
So anyway, guess who was the lucky girl?
"Hello? Are you awake?" came the soft voice of Lyla.
Oh, sorry. I haven't introduced her, have I? Well guys, Lyla here is the sister of Mad, the crazy bitch who slapped me senseless just a few hours ago, and she is also the person who is currently carrying my good ol' pop's child.
And mind you, if she doesn't abort that child soon, I'm gonna have a step-mom and step-sibling in about . . . oh I don't know . . . another six months. Albeit illegitimate, but hey. A fact's a fact. No point denying it.
"Ye-yeah." I managed to croak. My aching cheeks throbbed, causing me to wince. She caught the wince.
"Oh! Let me get some ice for that! Stay right here!" and she scurried off. Know how those stories always say that the step-mom was some pretty, blonde bitch that has no brains and always seem to get on your nerve? Well here's the bad thing. I liked Lyla.
Not like as in like-her-until-I-want-to-pork-her-like-my-Dad-did, but like her as a kind acquaintance/to-be step-mom.
And even though she had been the one silly enough to confess to Mad that Dad had gotten her pregnant, she was also the one who saved me from a raging mad Mad. Lyla had to practically tear Mad away from my body to make sure I wasn't dead by morning.
But when Lyla had left the room, thinking she had succeeded in separating Mad's fist from my face, Mad had returned and duct taped me to the aluminium chair.
Lyla returned a few minutes later. As she held the ice pack against my right cheek first (as my hands were 'full'), I asked her, "Hey. Are you gonna let me out of here?"
I expected her to look at me coolly with cold, piercing eyes, then an evil smirk across her lips, followed by an ear-shattering cackle, "No". But it never came. Instead, she looked around the room, poked her head out of the room to check for people, then sat back down next to me (on the filthy, dusty bed) and whispered conspiratorially, "Ok, here's what we're gonna do. Mad going out for some event tonight, all the way to the other side of town. But we'll have only about three hours extra or so to get you out of here. I'll take care of Tic. He can't hold his liquor for the death of him–"
"LYE?! WHERE ARE YOU LYE?" We both stared at each other, then she hurried quietly out of my room and into her own where I heard her shout 'IN HERE!'
Mad stomped up the stairs, and walked straight into my room. She gave me an evil glare, checked that I was still taped fast to the piece of metal, and headed into her younger sister's room.
Tyler's POV.
This movie is a hit? Snort. If anyone even actually watched the movie, this lousy film wouldn't even appear on the charts. Oh yeah. The storyline is so special. Boy meets girl. They fall in love, and live happily ever after in some stupid castle.
How Cinderella.
Wait. Why am I even sitting here, talking to myself in my head anyway? I'm outta here –
"Hey Ty. Where ya goin?" Don asked. Oh well. So much for sneaking away. Not that I could, with Zack and his girl sharing saliva and blocking my way. I scoffed in distaste.
"Washroom. Don't bug me" I said as coldly as I could. I honestly can say that I have no idea why people like Don keep tagging behind me. I don't act cool, I'm not some crapshit star basketball player or star football quarterback. That role is played by my buddy Zack. If you look at me, you've definitely got the wrong guy.
"Oh. Okay," he said. Then turned back and continued watching the horrid show, staring at the screen so intently that he didn't even notice he was drooling at the female lead.
I had to climb over my seat to the row above me to get to the exit. Then I left the theater with not one iota of intention in returning. I exited the mall, and my face met with fresh air. I took a deep breath, and started on my four mile jog home.
No, I didn't have a car. When I revealed this to my friends, they all had this skeptical, equivocal look on their faces. I could bet my swimming pool that the words in their minds were, "Ha! As if! Who does he think he's kidding? Tyler Caristle, our typical rich man's son, doesn't even own a car? I'm a flying pig if it's true!"
Well fuck a duck. It is, sadly, true. So I know about six hundred flying pigs, but hey. Who's counting?
What's so great about having a car anyway? For showing off? As if I cared. If the girl I was dating cared more for my car than me, I might as well let her date my car. Sometimes, even though I myself am a heterosexual guy, I just can't fathom how my friends' minds work.
Besides, it's not like I'm the type of guy to have an intimate bond with my 'baby', as most guys call their cars. The thing isn't even aliv–
"OOMPH!" Whoops. Looks like I've crashed into someone. I sat up and rubbed my sore head which had banged against the tar floor. I saw two people sprawled on the floor as well, looking vertiginous and shtick.
One of them, I noticed almost immediately after my woozy eyesight cleared up, had a familiar shade of light-but-not-really-pale blonde hair. The other looked older, like a fresh adult. Except for a little bump at her belly, she looks normal–
"CRAP! Lye! Are you alright?" The blonde girl had seemingly jumped out of her reverie and was kneeling beside her while shaking her arm. Then she abruptly snapped her head to face me and growled, "Are you blind? Who the hell runs with their eyes closed? I don't suppose you've got a third eye growing out of your forehead, do you? Well if you don't, then next time take that little effort to open your bloody eyes and see where you're running! She's pregnant! What if she has a miscarriage?! You freaking boorish–"
She was cut off by a groan from the honey blonde lady. Blonde girl turned to look at the adult with saucer-wide eyes. "Lye? Lye! Come on! It's just a fall right? Are you okay? Can you stand? Can you talk? Groan? Moan? Sigh!? " She had started panicking again, and was poking Lye's arm.
I rolled my eyes. Was this girl for real? "Uhm, hey. She's not dead, you know."
She glared at me, but someone's shouting caught her attention instead. "There they are! Hurry up, you inebriated goon!" I looked towards the commotion and my eyes met a middle aged couple squeezed on top of a vintage Vespa. The pudgy guy was driving the little scooter, but it was careening out of control because the woman situated behind him was practically strangling him with her left arm that was hooked across his red, fat neck.
When I turned back around, I saw that both the lady and the girl had gotten up and were running away. I stood up and brushed myself off. The couple was scooting down the road, easily catching up with them.
And I know it was really mean . . . but I laughed anyway.