Elsewhere

Sixteen

SIXTEEN

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I awoke to the smell of coffee.

My eyes flickered open, staring up at the white ceiling. Images flashed through my mind of the night before with Lane. It had been exhiliarating and terrifying all at once. And we had been so close. I could remember the feel of him and the warmth I had felt. I had been so sure he was about to kiss me, but the timing had been wrong. With reluctance I climbed out of bed, and set to preparing myself for the day. I was to attend a grand opening with my family today.

Once you had been to once opening of a building you had more or less been to all of them. There was a lot of pomp and talk, and grand notions for show. And once the ribbon was cut and the crowd claped it was done. Everything that followed with mingling and hors d'oeuvres. I could come up with volumes of things I would rather be doing. With this thought I hopped into the shower, relishing in it. Once I stepped out I set to drying my hair and doing my makeup. A little bit here and there and then I dressed, and braced myself for breakfast with my parents.

I noticed the tension even before I entered the room. My father was practically fuming. I had seen him mad plenty of times, but nothing quite like this. My mother was more composed, but no one pleased than my father. It was just a slight purse of the lips and pinched look on her face. She held herself ridgidly. I walked into the room, unable to avoid whatever scene was about to play out. "Good morning," I said as cheerfully as I could manage. Neither of my parents spoke. My sipped silently on her coffee and father was watching the television.

I took a moment to focus my attention on what he was watching, and realized immediately why everyone was so tense. The local news was on, showing an all too familiar building. It was one of the ones my father had built. "The police arrived on the scene, but no trace of the vandal could be found. This is not the first act of vandalism by the perpetrator, and law enforcement vows that they will put a stop to it as soon as possible." The screen panned to the "vandalism." I stared at it transfixed. It showed a building collapsed and all around people were lying dead under it. My eyes panned and saw that a man was standing in front of it, smiling with a sigh proclaiming: Knowles Industrial—a brighter, safer future for all.

"Thats fucking perfect! Just fucking perfect!" he exclaimed angrily. He turned the television off, throwing the remote down. The room echoed with the sound. Mother flinched. "This is a nightmare! Do you know the mess my PR branch is going to be dealing with? And not just them but marketing is going to have a task to deal with. This criminal has caused irreparable damage. The Knowle's good name is only good for so much. People will see this and even if there is no matter to it will withdraw from our company. Our stocks will take a plunge."

"It will be fine, darling."

"No, it will not be fine, Lila."

"Is their any validity?"

Even with both my parents talking my voice cracked through the room. They both fell silent, their full attention now on me. My father's blue eyes narrowed. "Is their validity? You're looking to verify a criminal, Wren? A criminal is a criminal whether he's telling the truth or not." I knew that I should have just shut up, and agreed with him. That's what a smart and dutiful daughter would have done. My father expected me to stand with him and my mother—to have a unified front. But I just couldn't. If what the piece suggested was true it would be wrong for me to defend my father's company.

"So you admit its true then?"

He sighed, raking a hand through his perfectly groomed hair. He looked as if speaking to me pained him, like I was a child. He glanced at my mother as if to seek guidance. "There was an incident, but it wasn't like that," he began, already on the defensive. He could sense my disapproval. "There was a handful of buildings on the eastside that weren't properly constructed. Some people cut corners to cut cost. You know, typical mistakes. In that time attention was split between westside construction and east. A call was made to pay special attention to the west."

"A handful?" I questioned.

"About a dozen, I guess."

I felt sick to my stomach. I couldn't believe what he was telling me. "A dozen? Do you even know how many people lived or worked in those buildings? You killed and injured possibly hundreds for the sake of profit?" I said angrily. What kind of man sacraficed lives for money? What kind of person could justify that? "And a call was made? Who makes the calls, dad? Who? Because last I checked you are the sole owner of Knowles Industrial. Nobody takes a breath without okaying it with you first! You seperated people as if they had a value? Poor or rich, old or young, black or white everyone's life is equally valued."

"You're being melodramatic, darling."

"Melodramatic?" I screetched, glaring at my mother. "You're talking about murder! I don't even know either of you. You both make me sick. I hope this does ruin your company. I hope your stocks take a hit so hard that you experience even a bit of finacial woe, because then maybe—maybe—you might understand what poverty is." I shoved away from the counter and stormed out of the room. I could hear their voices behind me, but I tuned them out. I wanted nothing to do with them. My parents—my very legacy—was built on the blood and backs of the impoverished. Even if I wasn't involved in my father's company my name was attached to it. I was just as responsible as he was. It might as well of been my standing in front of that building.

* * *  AUTHOR'S NOTE * * *

Sorry for the long absence. I've been ridiculously busy between work and college. I'm attempting to get on here and finish up the two stories I have unfinished. I won't be consistently updating, but my aim is to do it more frequently than I have been.

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