Downtown Boy

c h a p t e r 2

🎵She's been living in her uptown world
I bet she's never had a backstreet guy
I bet her mama never told her why🎵

-Billy Joel

"Do you know how much of a laughing stock you've made us these past years?" Father shouts, the moment we enter our house.

"My employees eye me whenever I leave the office in a hurry, probably laughing at the fact that my daughter has once again embarrassed me for no goddamn reason at her college." He shouts, making me flinch back when he's stepping forward.

"Your mother always has to go through her brunches, listening to her friends praising their children on getting married to one of the most best bachelors in town. Listening to them praising on their amazing grades and new careers while we're here with a worthless and no good child who can barely keep up with our lifestyle!"

He goes on and on about how I'm worthless and useless, not enough to make him proud. 

"Harold stop." Mother cuts in, "Go upstairs and cool down, I'll take care of her." 

She doesn't say anything till father slams the door shut.

She lets out a very audible sigh, "Look at me Sierra." Lifting my eyes from the ground I look straight at her.

Disappointed.

Anger.

Embarrassed.

I could just look in her eyes and tell how she was feeling. It was painted all over her face, yet she didn't lose her control and spit things out like father. I wanted to look back down but I couldn't because that would then mean I'll get a punishment.

She'd tell me to lift my chin up, that I can't ever be the one down.

"How many time have I told you, don't butt into things, stay away from those-" Her face screws up, "people."

"But it isn't like I'm doing anything wrong." I argue.

Her eyes start twitching and her lip debates on lifting up but it doesn't.

She starts laughing, cackling, trying to catch her breath. "Doing anything wrong? Sweetie I don't think that the whole situation needed you or was any of your business." She scoffs.

"Sierra, honey, the more you do stuff like this, the more they take advantage of you."

"He was being beaten u-!" 

"I don't care!" She shouts, her hands falling down beside her. 

"Now be the good girl you are and go back upstairs to your room before you do something else that's disappointing. Like not being able to add 2+2." 

I glare at her, walking up the stairs, "It's 4, I don't know where you went wrong with maths mom."

:::

I was sitting on my window seat. Crying about my miserable antisocial life when I hear a knock on my door that startles me and makes me want to punch whoever it was for ruining my miserable time.

"Come in." I shout at the person from behind the door.

My father comes inside my room, examining the room. I'd always wanted to put up posters and my awful doodles on the walls. With fairy lights that make the room all pretty.

I never did though.

My room's all white and bland. No color. No nothing. It isn't colorful or anything.