Shattered by VivaLaPotter
Chapter 1: Maybe He Needs A Hug
The living room was bland but costly. In front of a exceedingly large plasma television set were two leather couches, each large enough to seat seven. There was nothing on the walls, except for the occasional mirror. There were no photographs to be seen anywhere. Even on the desktop computer in the east corner, the screen showed just a field of green. The place looked more like a rental home than anything. It was not a place one could easily call home.
But for Bradley Worthington, things were hardly ever easy.
It was nearing November, and it was bare and ugly outside.The streets below were loud, as tired workers honked their horns, eager to get home.
Bradley shook his head, aggravated, and emerged from his bedroom. It was normally relaxing and unnoticeable when the sounds of the city traveled up to him, but his head was hurting, and all he wanted to do was get some sleep.
He closed the curtains, flooding the penthouse with darkness. Slouching onto a couch, he clapped his hands twice, and there was light from the crystal chandelier in the dining room, as well as a nearby lamp.
He groaned loudly, as he heard more traffic. The curtains seemed to have not done the job he was hoping they would. Moaning a sort of whale song, he stood up from the couch and wandered toward the bathroom. He fumbled through the medicine cabinet, and opened the bottle of Advil. He took three from it, and grabbed a bottle of sherry from the kitchen. He swallowed the pills, and returned to the couch.
Normally, he would have had Cecelia do all this for him, but she had already gone. He was completely alone until the first of December.
It was horrible, in his opinion. Why would someone want to spend that long with their family? He smirked. Cecelia would come crawling back to him for sure. No one could survive without him for that long. She adored him, did she not? No, he had nothing to fear. He predicted she would be back before Thanksgiving.
He dozed off and on on the couch; his head feeling better each time he did so.
The sky was darkening now, and the traffic had died down. Yawning, Bradley got up and opened the curtains a bit.
The doorbell rang, and he jumped slightly. Hardly anyone came to see him, unless for an important reason. Feeling panicky, he buttoned his suit coat, flattened his tie, and fixed his hair with his fingers.
He grasped the doorknob, and opened it slowly; a fake smile plastered on his face.
"Trick or treat!"
He stepped back and looked down. Why on earth was there a cowgirl, a Harry Potter, and a pirate outside his door?
"What do you want?" he asked, out of pure confusion.
The cowgirl trembled, and looked expectantly at Harry.
"It- it's Halloween, sir," said the child.
"And?" said Bradley, tapping his foot.
"You're supposed to give us candy, fathead," said the pirate. His eyes were bored, and around his lips, was a purple juice stain.
Taken aback by the childish insult, Bradley laughed.
"Sorry, don't have any," he said, rolling his eyes. He was definitely not sorry, as he made to slam the door in front of the kids. Why were they not with an adult, anyway?
The pirate's foot stopped the door from slamming, and he made a low remark of pain.
"Look, mister, just give us some candy!" said the pirate, as Bradley was forced to reopen the door.
"Kid, where are your parents?" asked Bradley in a firm and dangerous voice. "I want to give them a piece of my mind," he stated, and then muttered, "what kind of parents send their damn kids up to the penthouse."
"Whoa!" said the pirate, rushing past Bradley, and into the house. Infuriated, he turned and saw the little rat gaping at his television.
"Kid! Get out of here!" yelled Bradley, rushing toward him before he ruined anything. He hated kids. Especially that pirate kid.
The pirate ran and jumped on his couch. His imported, expensive, beautiful couch was being jumped on by the pirate. The pirate was like a gnat he could not kill.
"I swear if you don't-" began Bradley, his face fuming.
"Jeremy!"
He turned around and saw a blonde woman, no doubt in her early twenties, rushing towards the child. He was torn between cussing the irresponsible woman out, and hugging her for preventing the kid from hurting his furniture.
"Your kid is a demon," he said, and the woman turned to him.
"I beg your pardon?" she said, picking up the pirate, her eyebrows raised cautiously.
"I said 'your kid is a demon,'" repeated Bradley, rolling his eyes once more.
"I'm so sorry," said the woman, and Bradley was shocked to see tears in her eyes. "The kids got on the elevator, and it closed before I could get on with them! I didn't know what floor they had gone to, and I've been praying I would find them. I should have been more responsible. Please, please forgive me! I did not mean for Jeremy to be so disruptive."
"What business do you have at Consley?" demanded Bradley, her tears doing nothing more than shocking him. "This is not a place for beggars."
"I'll have you know," she said, putting Jeremy down, and losing her apologetic tone, "that I happen to live here at Consley."
Bradley was astonished. How could such low class people, with children live in a place like that?
"I'm sorry," he said, looking away from her. "I did not know."
Silence fell between them. He stood there with bated breath, hoping they would leave already. He did not like having strangers in his home.
"Well, have a good night," said the woman, rushing out the door, grabbing the hands of Harry Potter and the cowgirl as she did so.
Bradley walked toward the door, still fuming with anger.
"Mommy, why was that man so mean?" he heard the cowgirl ask as the family waited for the elevator.
Bradley slammed the door, and leaned against it, waiting for the response.
"I don't know, Gabs," she said.
"Maybe he needs a hug," said the cowgirl. The woman laughed, and there was a beep, signaling the arrival of the elevator.
"Maybe so," was the last thing that was said, before the family disappeared.
His heart was pounding as the door supported his weight. His head felt light as the cowgirl's words stunned him. He closed his eyes. How could a hug fix anything? There was nothing wrong with him, and he most certainly was not mean. The woman must have been a bad parent, for it seemed her children did not know right from wrong.
Feeling assured, he locked the door and clapped his hands twice. He was surrounded by darkness, and blindly felt his way over to the door that lead to his bedroom. Without bothering to change clothes, and ignoring the fact that he had not eaten anything since lunch, he crawled into his bed, hid under the covers, and squeezed his eyes shut, hoping that the day would end.
********
The sun shone through the cracks of the blinds, and onto Bradley's face, waking him up with a jolt. He threw his pillow at the window, trying to hit the sun and tell it he was tired. That did not work at all.
He yawned and gradually opened his eyes. He felt disgusting. He got up and walked over to his bathroom, and cringed at the sight of his wrinkled suit. That was the last time he would ever sleep in a suit.
He quickly brushed his teeth before taking a cold shower. The snow cold water woke him up entirely, giving him a fresh feeling in his body.
He turned the shower off and put on his bath robe. The smell of coffee from the automatic coffee maker filled his lungs as he stepped out into the living area. He drew back the curtains, and let the sun fill the room.
Fixing himself a cup of black coffee, he heard a faint beeping noise. He turned to the opposite counter and saw that there was a new voicemail. He sipped his coffee and let the message play.
"Hey babe, it's Celia," said the machine. "Well, I arrived fine. I'm here with mom and dad. Just calling to check on you. Give me a call back if you can. I love you! Bye."
He smiled and made a mental note to call her back later. He began to turn away from the phone, but he stopped. Mom and dad. Why did those words make his stomach ache?
It was stupid, he told himself. Just forget about it.
But curiosity got the better of him.
Although he was alone, he quietly set his coffee down and tiptoed toward the computer. What harm would be done if he just...searched for them?
He typed in his father's auto repair business website, double checked it for errors, and hit enter. The computer lagged momentarily, before an error message popped up.
"The page could not be found."
He scratched his chin and went to a search engine. He typed in his father's name, Richard Worthington, followed by what he knew to be the business name. No results popped up. It was strange, Bradley thought, that his father's somewhat successful auto repair shop could close in only five years.
Five years ago, he had worked in that auto repair shop.
He quickly exited out of the page, and left the computer.
Somehow, he could not help but want to know more about what his family was doing. Even as he changed into a pair of trousers, and a simple, black button up shirt, the pressing thought of family dug into his mind.
It was a Saturday, and he had no case to prepare for, and nowhere to go.
Nothing could distract him long enough. It was empty and quiet, and the thoughts pounded his head even further.
Maybe he would go track them down. Maybe he would forgive them for being horrible to him. Maybe it was time to make a change...
He walked quickly into the kitchen and picked up the phone.
"Celia, I'm leaving for North Carolina this afternoon. Call me on my cell."