The Ways of Life

Chapter 1

"Hazel!" I groaned rolling over to my side trying to ignore my screeching sister. "HAZEL!" she yelled even louder shaking me.

I breathed slowly, "Hazel is not here at the moment please leave a message at the beep," I mumbled against my comforter.

"Get up! Don't you have an interview today?" she continued to shake me then she got smart and ripped the covers off me completely, exposing me to the cold air.

"Fuck the interview," I sighed defeated and sat up to stare at my annoying, control freak of a sister. "What the fuck are you doing here? Who let you in? Get out."

She shook her head at me, "Good morning to you too, Hazel." She walked smoothly out of the room. "I'll make you breakfast."

She's going to be a happy camper once she notices my fridge is close to empty. I thought. Another thing for her to complain about.

"I don't think you heard me," I called after her. "I demanded that you leave."

"Get. Dressed."

My darling sister was great at everything she did. She had two jobs apparently; one being the most expensive lawyer in New York City and the other being my caretaker. I didn't need one but I had no choice. She was married with three kids and still managed to get on my nerves, barging in here like she pays the rent.

I let my head fall into my hands sighing. Fuck, I have a headache.

I pulled myself up from my bed grabbing a probably dirty shirt and pajama shorts from the floor. My place wasn't the most spotless place in the world, it could possibly be the dirtiest. There were clothes everywhere, I'm sure some were clean but from the looks of it most were dirty. I needed to make time to wash. There was trash from last week just sitting in the corner of my room.

I walked into the kitchen seeing Zara holding up my bong that I bought last week, "Pretty cool, huh," I nodded admiring my pride and joy.

"This place is disgusting, Hazel. This place stinks of weed and sex. You have a bag of weed just sitting on your coffee table like its a magazine or something."

"Both of those things are true because I have been doing both of those things. This is why I told you to get out. I swear every time you come here you complain about everything. I'm sorry, I don't have a pretty nice coffee table, or that I'm not a neat freak like you."

"I'm not asking you to be, Hazel. Just take some responsibility for yourself. You need a job, I mean how long do you think you can live off your trust fund?"

I rolled my eyes. When our mother died, she left us with quiet a sum of money. My mom was this big top lawyer but then she died from an overdose on coke. It was a shocker to all of us, well not to me. She was a crazy, selfish bitch but Zara likes to pretend she was an angel. I just let her have it some days. Zara just had to follow in her footsteps, while I followed in my father's footsteps I guess. My dad disappeared after my mother died, I think he was relieved he didn't have to get a divorce after all. Before he skipped town, he served in the army for twenty years maybe even more then he got old and retired. I loved my dad and whatever I loved, Zara seemed to find every flaw. She completely hated our father, I think it was because I was his favorite.

"For quite awhile, thank you and I have a job."

"You can't call working in that disgusting establishment where women parade around naked and rubbing against a steel pole for money a job. I hate that you lower yourself to these standards, you are so much better than this."

"How do you know what I'm better than?" I glared at her. "You know what I'm not dealing with your shit today. I'm going to take a shower and when I'm done I want you out and the key that you probably copied on the counter."