Afraid Chapter 1
"You have to start being more responsible and soon you'll have the Langston Company in your hands once i leave my spot." my father says. "What if i don't want to be." I snap back at my father, crossing my arms. He chuckles, "you've got my stubbornness i see." he looks at me seriously, "You will do as i say Samantha." he demands. "That is all. Now go." He shoos me away.
I roll my eyes, turning around and pushing the door open with one arm, slamming it shut behind me as i walk away. I rush to my room, slamming that door shut as well. Amelia walks in. My step mother, wearing a skanky tight purple, strapless dress. Her bleach blonde hair, fake tan, gigantic boobs, and sprauny legs and arms only make her look worse. Her oversized lips and cat makeup. She was in her 40s...
"What do you want." i say, laying on my bed staring at the ceiling. "Honey, look" she says, taking a sip of her cocktail, "you're fathers just very stressed. Please dont be mad and take things the wrong way beautiful." she says sitting on the edge of my bed with her tiny butt. "Why would you care?" i say annoyed, "you're not even my mother." i mumble. Amelia gulps and looks down, "alright, sorry to bother you honey." she says sweetly before getting up and leaving my room respectfully.
I groan out of frustration. I sit up in my bed and bring my arm up to look at my watch. 11:04 PM. I check my IPhone. One message:
Come clubbin bitch. We miss u. -Christy
I laugh at the text. Christy was my friend. Best friend actually. We met in middle school. She wasn't rich, well mannered, failed every class, which is why i loved her. She wasn't afraid to do things she wanted to do. I on the other hand was the opposite of her. My parents forced me to study 24/7, making me ace every class, piano lessons, dance lessons, singing lessons, well mannered, lady-like, rich. I honestly am jealous of Christy. She can just have fun, and do what she wants.
Be there in a bit baba. -Imogen
I'm Imogen. Born in a rich ass family. Mother died around the age 6. I got a tattoo when i was 16, it wrote on my shoulder my moms maiden name:Gold. My dad never got re-married, but not because he loved my mother and couldn't let go, because he was always too busy with his business. The Langston business.
I was always home alone with my babysitter. Sophie. She was amazing. She was practically my mother, but she was only 16 when she babysat me. I remember everything. Why she stopped babysitting me. I loved her, like she was a big sister. She played with me, made me feel wanted, until i found out, she was sleeping with my father. It crushed me. It made my heart tear up into millions of pieces. Why would my father do that to me and my mother? Were we not good enough? My next 10 years i asked myself those questions everyday.
He got remarried when i was about 16, because my grandparents convinced him i needed a mother role-model. He found Amelia on the streets, with bruises and scars. She was a a dancer at a club. She was abused, beat. My father was driving through down town and found her walking on the sidewalk in the pouring rain. He demanded the driver to stop. He took her in, helped her, and took care of her more than he ever took care of me. Something inside me told me he loved her. But i don't know what.
I head to my walk-in closet, searching for a perfect clubbing dress.
http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=68053504
Since i was going out with Christy, i don't dress as formal and proper like i usually do. I walk to my night stand, picking out jewelry. I slip on my last bracelet. I look down at my night stand. A picture of my mother when she was my age. 18. She was beautiful. My father was lucky. I never did see him love her. Either i was to young to notice, or he didn't. She had big hazel brown eyes, like me. Brown hair up to her shoulder. They were naturally wavy. Her smile was amazing. It made everyone's day better. I hold the picture frame and stare at her. My mother.
