Back in black, I hit the sack
I've been too long I'm glad to be back
Yes I'm let loose from the noose
That's kept me hanging about
-Back In Black, AC/DC
March 21st 2008
My foot taps to the rhythm, as AC/DC blasts out of the stereo. I'm squished in the middle seat, between Dad and a random soldier. He keeps glancing at me nervously, and not going to lie, he is quite good-looking. Back at home, I wouldn't go for him, but this is the Afghan desert, my options are limited, might as well go along with it for a bit.
I meet his gaze and we smile at one another; Dad must have noticed though because he 'accidentally' slips and spills scotch on my rose-pink dress. After Dad glares at the soldier, the poor guy spends the next five minutes avoiding eye contact. The ice in Dad's scotch bounces against the edge of his glass as we rumble over the bumpy dirt road.
Soon, my father and his goldfish-like attention span get bored, so he interrupts the silence that's overtaken the vehicle, "I feel like you're driving me to a court-martial. This is crazy. What did I do? I feel like you're going to pull over and snuff me.", still nobody replies, "What, you're not allowed to talk? Hey, Forrest!"
"We can talk, sir.", the soldier next to me says.
"Oh, I see. So it's personal?"
"No, you intimidate them.", the soldier, who's driving, tells us, and she's a woman- go her I guess.
"Good god, you're a woman. I honestly... I couldn't have called that.", he says, "I mean, I'd apologize, but isn't that what we're going for here? I thought of you as a soldier first."
"Dad, you're just digging yourself a hole.", I hiss.
"I'm an airman.", she says,
"Well you have, actually, excellent bone structure, there. I'm kind of having a hard time not looking at you now. Is that weird?", all the soldiers chuckle at his awful joke, so I just scowl, "Come on, it's okay, laugh."
"Sir, I have a question to ask.", one of the soldiers in the front says shyly.
"Yes, please.", Dad nods to him.
"Is it true you went twelve for twelve with last year's Maxim cover models?", he asks.
"That is an excellent question.", I elbow him swiftly in the side and he rolls his eyes at me, "Uh, which I won't be answering right now.", he leans forward and pretends to whisper, even though we can all hear him, "But... yes and no. March and I had a scheduling conflict, but fortunately, the Christmas cover was twins.", he leans back again, "Anything else?", the soldier next to me, who was looking at me before, raises his hand, "You're kidding me with the hand up, right?"
"Is it cool if I take a picture with you?", he asks.
"Yes. It's very cool.", Dad nods, happy with the attention.
I duck out of the way of the photo, as the soldier hands his camera to the soldier in the front, "Oh, uh, I meant you too, Aurelia.", the soldier says.
I move into the picture, batting my eyelids at the soldier just to annoy Dad, "Oh, okay."
"I don't want to see this on your MySpace page.", Dad says, ignoring my flirting. The Soldier puts up a peace sign for the photo, "Please, no gang signs.", Dad jokes. The soldier immediately puts his hand down, terror overtaking his face, "No, throw it up. I'm kidding. Yeah, peace. I love peace. I'd be out of a job with peace.", he grumbles.
"Come on. Hurry up. Just click it. Don't change any settings. Just click it.", the soldier next to me says, as the soldier in front struggles with the camera.
It's funny how one moment everything can be so okay and the next moment it's not. It's funny how one sound can change your life forever. It's funny how-
Bang.
Just before he can take the photo, the vehicle in front of us blows up and we slam to a stop. On instinct, Dad grabs onto me and pulls me close. Bullets rain fire all around the vehicle and explosions continuously go off.
"What's going on?", Dad yells, clinging to me like our lives depend on it, which they might.
"Contact left!", the female soldier screams.
"What have we got?", Dad asks, panic rising even more in his voice.
The woman steps out but is immediately shot down, "Jimmy, stay with Stark!", the other soldier in the front shouts, as he too gets out.
"Stay down!", the last remaining soldier, Jimmy, commands.
"Yeah.", Dad agrees, pulling me down.
My chest rises and falls frantically, as I squeeze Dad's arm with so much force that it must hurt. The soldier that got out stands, ready to shoot, before he's shot down, the blast cracking the window too. A high-pitch buzz overtakes my hearing.
"Son of a bitch!", Jimmy screams, before he gets out to fight
"Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait! Give me a gun!", Dad begs.
"Stay here!", Jimmy instructs.
The second the door closes, bullets pierce the vehicle, beams of light shining onto our skin. As I whimper meekly, Dad holds my head to his chest, his face pressed into my brunette locks, "It's gonna be okay, baby. We're going to be fine."
"Dad, I'm scared.", I whisper.
His head snaps up and he glances around, "Come on.". He swings the door open and stumbles out, dragging me behind him.
"What are you doing?", I scream.
"I'm going to get help, honey. You're going to be okay, I swear.", he says, as I climb out of the vehicle in a daze. A blast goes off the second we get out and he pulls me back against the vehicle's side. "Follow me, don't leave my side, okay?", I don't respond, "Okay?", he yells. "Sweetheart, we are going to be okay. We're Starks, baby."
He has nicknames for me and he likes to be affectionate but this whole 'honey' and 'baby' thing is a new development and it's scaring me shitless.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah.", I gasp, still trying to breathe.
He takes off running as fast as he can, clutching my wrist and pulling me right behind him. We dive behind a rock and he pulls out his phone, trying to get someone's help- anyone's.
"Dad, what's going to happen to us?", I ask, my voice trembling.
"Nothing, baby, nothing.", he says, "You remember what I told you at Grandma and Grandad's funeral?"
Thud.
It's like I said, one noise can change your life. After that small thud, time slows around me; my head turns to the source of the sound and my stomach drops seeing a missile lying beside us. Nothing's ever going to be the same after that thud.
And I can see Dad's face and I should feel safe but it just makes it all the worse because he's... he's... he's terrified. My dad is never scared. When I was little, I used to think my dad was the biggest, strongest, bravest man in the world. He was never scared of anything and he always knew just what to say no matter the situation. And as much as I hate him sometimes and even though now that I'm older, I spend fifty percent of my time on bad terms with him, I still believe what I did when I was five.
My dad is the smartest, bravest man in the world.
Yet here he is, lying beside me in the dirt, terror painted across his face in watercolours. A missile lies with us in the dirt, a red light flashing, and the words plastered across its side shake me to my very core: Stark Industries.
The company that meant home. The company that meant family and friends and everything that was anything in life. Here with us, in the dirt; here to end us.
The instant we lay eyes on it, Dad literally grabs me and tosses me as far away from it as he can, "Run, Lia!", he screams, stumbling up himself.
Tripping and falling, I stagger in any direction that's away from the missile. The explosion goes off behind me, sending me hurtling forward face-first into the dirt.
"Aria? Aurelia!", I hear Dad scream somewhere, though I'm so disorientated that I can't tell where.
"Dad!", I cry out, "Dad?"
Darkness begins to overtake my vision and I try to fight it, but before I know it, I slip from conscience. One thought remains in my mind even as I drift off into the unknown, what he told me at Grandma and Grandad's funeral.
It was 1994.
The rain splashed on the black umbrella, as we stood watching soldiers carry the coffins in a military procession. My hand in Dad's, he wouldn't let a single tear slip down his face.
"Why did I survive?" I asked, looking up at him as cold tears rolled down my cheeks, "I was in the car too."
He didn't look at me, kept his eyes fixed straight ahead, "I don't know, baby, I really don't. But trust me, nothing's ever going to happen to you again. I'd die before I let anything happen to you."
3 DAYS EARLIER...
Malibu, CA
March 18th 2008
Stark Mansion, Malibu
That night, guests start to arrive and I make the finishing touches to my look. This is my eighteenth birthday. I'm legally an adult. I have to look the part. My dress is gorgeous, low-cut, silver, and shimmers under my bedroom lights. After making sure my hair's perfect, I take a deep breath and leave my room to head downstairs to the already thriving party. Immediately, all the attention turns to me, which is unsurprising since I look fantastic (if I do say so myself). Music pounds and everybody's scattered around the living room, talking, drinking, and dancing. I wander over to my best friend, Evelyn, who's grinning at me.
"The birthday girl is here!", she squeals, "Oh my god, Ari, you look hot!"
"Thank you!", I say, giving a little twirl, "As do you!"
"You're finally eighteen, took you long enough.", she teases.
"Oh, please, you're just rubbing it in because your birthday's in September.", I laugh.
"Yes. That is exactly what I'm doing.", she says, dead serious.
I roll my eyes, "Wow, Ev. So rude."
She doesn't say anything for a second, but her lips are slightly parted in a small smile, "Shots?"
I give her a funny look, "Stupid question."
"Great. I'll take that as a yes."
She grabs my hand and drags me towards the kitchen, where the island is lined with all sorts of booze and mixers. Evelyn takes two shot glasses of tequila and hands one to me. "Oh, and before you let a lick of alcohol touch your lips, no repeats of what you did at Katie Dean's party with Jake."
My eyes widen, "Please, my stomach's churning at just the reminder. Tonight, my intention is to get so disgustingly high and drunk that I can't stand up, much less perform anything on anyone I'll regret in the morning."
"Well, what a way to celebrate eighteen years of you." she laughs.
I hold mine up, "Happy birthday to me!", we both take the shot, then I grimace slightly as it burns my throat. "Wooh, eighteen is great!"
"Underaged drinking!" Evelyn cheers.
The night goes on with a lot more drinking; before I know it, I'm drunk out of my mind. Having a fantastic time, but extremely drunk. A strong arm wraps around my waist and the strong smell of cologne invades my senses. Turning to see who it is, all that's in front of me is a blurred figure with a floppy mop of golden hair.
"Fuck off, Cole." I slur, slapping his hand off my waist.
"Hey, hey, hey, no need to be so hostile, baby!" he grins.
"I'm not fucking you tonight." I announce, rather loudly.
"Woah, I'm just 'tryna be nice." he leans in and murmurs in my ear, "That guy I told you about is here."
I find a smile coming to my face, "Shit, great!" I stumble through the masses of people, with Cole following behind me until I find the front door.
He leads me over to a shady-looking guy, who's standing by a nice Mustang, glancing around. "Hey, Jay!" Cole calls.
The guy looks over, "Hey."
"You got what I want?" I ask, walking right up to him.
"Mhm. You got my money?"
I shove a wad of cash into his chest, "There's enough in there, trust me."
He eyes the huge mansion, "Yeah, I trust that, Malibu Barbie." he scoffs, handing me a tiny plastic bag.
"Please, I'm not blonde and I'm a lot fucking richer." I declare, snatching the bag and turning away. I look at the colourful collection of pills in it and grin, "Devil candy." I mutter, ripping it open and popping one on the tip of my tongue, then swallowing.
Better than SweeTarts.
"Fucking Barbie?" I mumble as I head back inside. Somehow, due to a series of events that I can't quite recall, I end up on the platform at the front of the living room with a mic in my hand. "Hey, guys! Everyone iz- is here! Yeah! Um, it's me- my burthday! Wooh! So, happy birthday to me! I'm eighteen! Yeah! Uh, there's loads more dranks and help yourself because this is a party and... Happy birthday to me!" I slur, "Enjoy the party!" everyone cheers loudly, as I jump up and down, spilling the contents of my drink all down myself.
I pretty much fall off the stage and stumble down to Dad's workshop for some reason. He must have had J.A.R.V.I.S black out the glass so you couldn't see in, probably because he despises teenagers and anyone he deems below him, which includes everyone younger than him. Specifically teenagers though.
I walk over to the glass, but hiccup and fall over, smacking into it with a thump. After resting my face against the cool glass for a while, I fumble with the code for a minute or two, before remembering that the code is just my birthday and today happens to be my birthday.
"M- March the eighteenth two-hundred and sevet... seventy see- seex- six.", I laugh hysterically, "Nineteen ninety. That's when I came out of my mother's... womb! March eighteenth nineteen-ninety." I mumble to myself.
Once I've typed in the code, I push open the door open and stumble into the room. Dad looks up from his work, which before he was so concentrated on, "Munchkin, you okay?"
"Hiya, p- p- padre!" I grin.
"So, I'll take that as a no." he stands up and walks over to me.
"Did you know?" I ask with no context, wobbling toward him.
"Know what?"
"Uh... I don't know either." I giggle, falling over but he catches me before I faceplant straight into the concrete.
"God, kid, you're shitfaced." he sighs, pretty much carrying me over to the sofa across the room.
"Well, you know, just trying to live up to my father's glory." I laugh, before processing the first part of his sentence, "Hey!", I snap, "I am not a kid, I am an adult woman! I am eighteen!"
"Yep, yep, got it." he sits me down and glances around hurriedly, searching for something.
"If this was uh... F- France I could drink a drink of adult drink juice cohol and not get in trouble with the people. The police people. Bonjour, yes, oui."
After standing up and pouring me a glass of water, he sits back down and hands me it, "Parties, huh?" he almost chuckles, though I can tell he doesn't find any of this funny. I just stare at the glass in my hand, my brain not processing that I need to drink it. "Okay, Lia, we're going to have to do this, I suppose." He holds the glass up to my lips for me and I drink about fifty percent of it, spilling the other half all over myself, mixing it with the other alcoholic beverages that already decorate my dress. He places the glass back down on the table next to his sofa, and I flop down, so I'm face-down on his chest. He rubs the back of my head, as I mutter something inaudible into his chest. "What's that?" he asks, peering down at me.
With great effort, I haul my body up so I'm sitting, "You didn't want a kid, right?", I giggle hysterically.
He looks very shocked, "No- I- Of course I did."
"Nuh-uh-uh." I wag my finger right in his face, before saying in a sing-song voice, "I was an unplanned accident." I grin, narrowing my eyes and trying to seem serious, "See, kids, this is why you should always wrap up, so you don't... have to put up with a child for eight ten... eighteen years."
"Sweetheart..." he says in a pained voice.
"No, I- I get it. 'Ya know... Family is not-" I hiccup, "isn't your thang." I pat his chest, "You do you girly-pops. I don't want any, not no kids at all. Or maybe me do, little dwarfs running around and making big noise." I say, jumbling my words and barely making sense, "But I don't it personal. Take it personal. You know, you're Tony Stark. Big, scary man. You don't have time for a kid."
"I love you, don't say that." he interrupts.
"Yeah, but you're always out partying and getting laid, which is weird, by the way." I'm still laughing my head off, and I'll definitely regret all of this in the morning when I'm sober- if I remember this that is. "And then you know... I'm trying to eat my brekky. My breakfast. Cornflakes. And some girl is coming down the big ol' staircase in just her panties and your shirt. And I'm like, uh, hello, why are you in my house. Then she just goes 'Oh my god! Aurelia Stark! Can I get a picture?'. So I tell her, 'No, go put on some clothes. No panties in my kitchen!'. So the she's all like, 'Where's Tony?' and I'm like 'I 'dunno, get outta my house already, lady!', and she's like 'You're so rude, I can't believe your dad lets get you away with acting like this!' and I'm like 'He doesn't care!'. Then she leaves and my cornflakes, are so, really, very, much, soggy. But then I'm thinking 'Again? Does this man want to give me a sibling?'. Seriously though, do you want another kid? I mean, at this point, it's every night. And it's a little bit strange.", I breathe out, finishing my non-sensical, mumbo-jumbo rant.
He turns bright red, "Uh..."
"I mean, you try and hide it, but I go to high school and I've also read a magazine before. I mean, you do you I guess. But everybody knows that I was unplanned and unwanted.", I smile widely, laughing through the pain. "Don't worry. When I was born, I was just being spontaneous and quirky."
Thankfully, before he can reply and get all soppy, I throw up all over the floor. Birthdays are always tough for me since coincidentally it's the anniversary of my mother's death. I shouldn't mourn her, that's stupid. Can't miss somebody who's as real to you as a figment of your imagination. Then again, maybe I would have turned out differently had she been there to hold me as I cried after Dad's shouting fits, or to tuck me in at night when he was too busy clubbing to, or to keep me away from all of the fame and money before it got to my head. Maybe if she was around I wouldn't be such a stuck-up bitch. To put it frankly. But then again, maybe she would have been a party animal too, maybe she and Dad would have argued relentlessly, and maybe she would have wanted all of the wealth and the power. Dad doesn't remember her even from their brief meeting when I was created, and the umbilical cord wasn't even cut when she passed, so Dad was far from meeting her at the hospital. Besides, I have everything I need right now; I have everything any girl could need, want or dream of.
Dad loves me (even if we hate each other a good portion of the time); I'm popular; I'm pretty; I'm filthy, stinking rich; I've got all the fame I could want and more. I live in a mega-mansion on Malibu Point- which even most billionaires wouldn't have had the sway to commission- with a father who would and can do anything for me and all the friends I could need.
So why do I still feel so fucking miserable all the time?
I can't blame it all on being from a single-parent house. A lot of people have one-parent houses and are in a lot less comfortable situations and still manage to be content. But I like to think that maybe if I had my mom, I wouldn't have idolized Dad so very much that I started to think the drinking and the drugs and the partying were so normal. And maybe, just maybe, I would have actually done something with my life rather than being on the precipice of flunking high school.
Oh well. I'm eighteen now, surely I'm past my prime. If there was a time to make a miraculous and drastic change to my life, it was surely a while ago. I'm sure I'll look perfectly content faking smiles as an actress or a model or just a live fast, do-nothing heiress.
By now, there aren't going to be any shocking revelations in my life and I intend to live out my days in a semi-depressed, alcohol and drug-fueled daze in some New York penthouse or a huge villa near the sea. It could be a worse life and at the very least it's certain.
After a few more rounds of throwing up, I either pass out or fall asleep.
Don't know which, don't care which.
A message from the author:
So... here's the first chapter of Iron Man! From here on I'm going to be updating every Saturday but I just want to get the first couple of chapters out. Don't be afraid to comment, seeing you guys interact means the world to me and leaves the biggest grin on my face! Remember to vote and comment! See you all next chapter! (;
- Hannah xoxo
Word count: 2684
Date published: December 12th 2021