Bryce
Women were all the same.
They're sweet one day, then vile the next. They often don't say what they mean and don't mean what they say. They change their minds a lot. They make you believe that they love you.
And then they leave.
*Ten Years Ago*
I could hear them fighting again. Shouting. Yelling. Screaming.
"Let me ask you, Brent, do I still have a husband?" asked Lillian, her eyes pooling with tears.
Lillian De Los Reyes was a 32-year old mother of two sons. She had shoulder-length black hair, chestnut brown eyes, fair skin, and she wore a diaphanous orange blouse and white pants.
"You're being melodramatic again,Lillian," Brent said impassively, doing up his polo's cuffs.
Brent De Los Reyes was a 34-year old billionaire who spent more time in the office than at home.
He had short brown hair, dark cerulean eyes, pale skin, and was in corporate attire for a meeting.
"Don't you dare accuse me of your own misgivings!" Lillian lashed out, her voice shrill.
I was eight years old, one of the few rich kids in my second grade batch. My parents were diving into another quarrel in the living room one Friday evening.
It was ironic, how millions of strangers, including everyone at my elementary school, envied my wealthy and affluent lifestyle. I had all the desires anyone could ever wish for. Designer clothes. A lavish mansion to live in. Expensive foods. Personal maids and the means to travel to wherever exotic country I wanted to go to. I had money to burn,and a twin brother to burn them with.
But Lucas and I were different.
"Whatever you want to say, Lillian, just keep them to yourself. I have an appointment to attend."
My mother screamed at the top of her lungs and threw a tall vase at my father.He ducked it.
"What the fuck is your problem, woman!?" he growled.
"Oh, now it's woman? You used to call me Lily, you bastard!" She hurled another vase at him.
My father dodged every paperweight his wife was angrily tossing at him. I remained hidden behind a large potted houseplant. I was numb. I felt empty as a waterfall of tears trickled down both of my cheeks.
The sound of glass hitting the hard walls pierced through my ears. Shards of colorful and priceless vases shattered against the tiled floor, thousands of sharp pieces scattered.
Mother shouted: "Ever since we got married, all you've done is hole up in your damned office! You never have time for me or your sons! The three of us are drifting away from you! Can't you see it?"
Father gritted his teeth after he clasped his gold watch around his wrist. He scowled and said:
"I'm working my ass off so this family can live a comfortable and privileged life."
"Comfortable? COMFORTABLE? Have you taken a good look at this place, Brent? We reside in a luxurious mansion, yes. But it's a cage for us here. A golden cage is still a cage. This house is cold and lifeless and you have done nothing to show your two sons nor me that you love us at all!"
"You ungrateful hag," her husband snarled. "I've spoiled you and our children with gifts and expensive clothes and this is how you repay me? With hatred and vitriol?"
"How dare you speak to me this way," mother hissed at him. "I've been nothing but the most considerate, most understanding wife to you. I mothered our sons with so much love and every fiber of my being cares for those two boys. But you?You're never home! You're always cooped up in work, in your precious businesses. If I didn't know any better, I bet you're sleeping with your whore of a secretary! I've seen the way she looks at you. And it makes me sick, Brent."
"YOU BITCH!" Father raised his hand and slapped his wife vehemently, a reddish mark on her left cheek. The impact was so strong that she fell to the ground as she cupped her stinging cheek.
"Bryce?" A familiar voice asked from behind. It was my twin brother, Lucas. He had just come home from a friend's 9th birthday party and was dressed in a white polo with black stripes.
Tears streaming down my face, I bared my teeth and shushed him. He stood behind me.
"Are mother and father arguing again? Why are you just watching them?" Lucas asked.
"Shut it, Luke," I whisper-hissed at him.
"We have to help mom," Lucas protested.
I held my twin's arm in a tight grip. "You'll get hit."
"No, I won't,"he countered, squirming from my hold.
"You're so sure of yourself, but I'm not risking it." I glared at him.
"What the--Bryce, what---" I restrained Lucas from behind, clamping a hand over his mouth to keep him from creating any noise.
"B-but.. m-mom's hurt," my brother's muffled voice said.
"Would she want you to get caught in the crossfire?" I asked, to which he shook his head.
"Then just zip it and let them be," I snapped.
We were both eight years old, but already we lived in hell on earth.
Everyday was a struggle, and I hated both my parents while Lucas remained neutral.
Months passed since that incident, and one day, when my twin and I got home from school, it dawned on us that our mother had packed up and left without so much as a goodbye.
*End of Flashback*
I was busy capturing worthy photos with my D.S.L.R. when a girl bellowed:
"BEE!"
Lowering my camera to my chest-level, I blinked twice and adjusted my vision.
It was getting kind of dark out here in the north quadrangle, but every aspiring photographer knew to use any situation to his advantage. I wouldn't allow the weather to brush me off.
It was only noon-time. Surely the climate would let up soon enough.
My eyes immediately recognized the person who had called me. A tall girl with waist-length raven tresses, hazel eyes, and a red paper bag dangling from around her slim wrist.
She launched herself towards me, and I put my hands on her waist to steady her.
"Honey," I called Scarlet. Frankly, it made me inwardly cringe whenever we exchanged endearments, but it was less agonizing than to listen to her bratty cries and tantrums.
My pretty girlfriend fluttered her eyelashes seductively as she locked her arms around my neck.
"Are you free now? I bought us takeout from my favorite restaurant!"
I reigned in my temper. Couldn't she see I was still working on my graded activity?
With a forced smile, I looked down at Scarlet and tapped her nose, a gesture she labeled cute and romantic, but I don't agree. Or maybe it depended on the person I did it to.
"I'm still busy," I told her. "You can go eat with your friends."
She pouted. "But Bee-e-e-e," she whined.
I wrapped my hands around her arms and pushed her away from me. Her eyes blazed.
"Did I do something wrong?" she asked in a strangled voice.
"No." I averted my eyes to another direction.
"Why are you so cold to me then?"
An agitated sigh escaped me. "I'm just not in the mood, alright?"
"No! It's not alright!" Scarlet stomped her foot childishly.
"Just go," I ordered her, my tone flat. "I have stuff to do."
"Fine!" She gave me a dirty look before storming away.
Seconds after Scarlet departed, my peaceful state returned.
I was peering into my camera, experimenting with various angles, when suddenly...
"Hey there. Is it okay if I talk to you for a few minutes? I'll be quick."
I clenched my teeth and gazed up at the newcomer, and I hissed:
"Can't you see I'm b--" The words dried in my throat.
My blue eyes went wide as I looked at the blonde girl in front of me.
"Stacy?"