Zero to Eighty

Waking up to my stomach growling wasn't exactly how I wanted to start my day. Granted, I did go to bed without bothering to eat anything which I often did, but a pissed off and empty stomach was something I would never get used to. Something else I wasn't used to, and I hoped I never will, was losing. Without consent, my mind kept replaying last night's events over and over and over again. The race, Kenzie's stupid smirk, and not to mention her fist colliding with my lip.

When I looked at myself in the mirror that morning as I got ready for the day, I examined the slightly swollen, red bottom lip. The area around the metal ring that adorned my lip was bruised, and dried blood caked around it. I touched the wound and flinched from the unexpected sharp pain.

Fucking Kenzie.

In the living room, my mum was still passed out on the couch. If it weren't for the alcohol addiction and her irresponsible tendencies, anyone could perceive her as a loving mother lying on the couch peacefully sleeping. Unfortunately, that was not the case. And it seemed like everyone knew this. My father ditched her, my sister did too, and I think my mum had an inkling feeling that I would walk away too.

I just didn't know when.

Because our fridge was in desperate need to be filled up, I decided to leave the grocery shopping to myself. But before allowing myself the luxuries of free samples, and contemplating between Coco Puffs or Lucky Charms, I needed to make a quick stop at the bank. That was a task I didn't often like and for one reason:

"Excuse me sir, what are you doing here?"

Judgement.

The security guards and employees of the major bank in Marlow Point always stopped me at the door, scrutinizing me with their preconceived notions about grungy looks and lifestyles. It was fucking stupid how these high-class, conceited ass wipes functioned in this society.

I looked up at the tall, aging security guard before me, "well we happen to be in a bank, so I'm here to, I don't know, do something that has to do with money, sir."

"Don't be rude you little shit," he sneered, drops of spit splattering onto my face.

"Excuse you fucker!" my raised voice caught the attention of the folks inside the bank. They all glared at me, sending condescending death stares my way.

The security guard grabbed my arm, "I think you should go now."

"No! I have a right to be here and I have shit to do in this fine establishment,"

"If you don't leave, I will escort you out,"

"Is everything alright here gentlemen?" a new set of vocals surprised both myself and the guard, causing our attentions to turn.

Standing there like some kind of wannabe gangster was Connor Kensington. He stood tall and proud in his pressed, beige-colored Armani suit. His dark, curly hair had more product than all the egotistical girls in Marlow Point, and the smug expression on his face could cause cancer patients to attain more cancer.

"I was just trying to cash my check when this," I looked to the guard who still had his grimy paws on my arm, "sad excuse for a security guard decided to cease my endeavors."

Connor eyed us suspiciously for a moment before switching his attention fully to the guard, "let him go Tim. He's okay."

I smirked, "you heard the man. Let me go."

The guard released his grip, scoffing at me one final time before returning to his rightful place in the corner. Connor gestured for me to follow him down the hall into his office, and I followed suit. I sat opposite of him, observing the little trinkets and decorations he had to embellish the four white walls. A photograph of himself and Ella Suarez inside a glass frame sat near the computer, next to a dish of assorted hard candies.

"Mister Styles," Connor started, holding out his hand towards me. I pulled out two envelopes from my pocket and slapped it on his palm. I slumped back down onto the chair,

"Give me two-hundred in cash."

Connor took out the checks from their respective envelopes and and looked at it. He looked up from them and started punching the keys on his keyboard, "so I take it that your job at the restaurant is going well?"

"It pays the bills, and puts food on the table," I replied, annoyed from his observation. I hated that bitch. He was just like everyone else in this stupid town. Just because he had all the money in the world, he believed he was better than everyone else.

"Well we all know that isn't true," Connor chuckled.

"And we all know you have something to do with my father," I shot back, and before Connor could reply I added with disdain, "and with Regan Suarez."

Connor stopped typing and cracked a smile. I wished I could punch the pompous grin right off of his face. He leaned in, licked his lips, "your theories are inconclusive Mister Styles. Your silly ideas are just that, ideas. Regan's death was an unfortunate accident. You don't know anything."

He was almost right. I didn't know everything, but I did know something. You know that crazy gut feeling that feels like iron punches to the stomach over and over again? It was that same ugly feeling I would get at the pit of my stomach whenever I thought about Connor, saw his face, or even heard his name. I have no evidence, and I don't even know where to begin in looking for it, but I swear that Connor had something to do with Regan's death. And if he had something to do with his death, that means he knows where my dad is.

Without breaking his eye contact, Connor opened up a safe next to his desk, and pulled out a stack of cash. He counted each bill, tapping it on the table top, and pushing it in my direction. I took my two-hundred cash and placed it into my withered wallet. I stood up from the chair starting for the door. As my hand grazed the shiny, bronze knob, he spoke once more,

"Have a good day Mister Styles."

I shuddered, hearing the self-righteous tone in his voice. I turned the knob and exited the office. I sauntered towards the glass doors, flipping the bird to the security guard before my body was engulfed by the Malow Point sun. I made my way back to the car, walking down the empty sidewalk, and glancing at the different shops that surrounded me. I approached a fancy store that specialized in wedding dresses. I took a gander at the shiny objects and over priced gowns on display through the window, not realizing who was on the other side.

Standing on some kind of raised platform in a light-colored dress that hugged her nicely at the chest was a thin girl with long dark hair. The girl looked somewhat lost in a trance, staring out into space, deep in thought. She was beautiful, and oddly familiar in a sense of pureness-- that the soft color of the dress unearthed her chastity. It wasn't until this girl's eyes met mine did I notice the tattoos beneath her clavicle.

Birds.

I smirked, an act that caused Miss Kenzie Suarez to stifle a light gasp. Her widened eyes and hollow expression gave in to the assumption that she definitely did not expect to see me that lovely morning. I expected a flick of her middle finger, a dirty face, or even one of her infamous sneers, but it never came. Instead she quickly bowed her head down, breaking our gaze. And I felt like I had won.

Notes

Happy Sunday everyone! :)

How was everyone's weekend? Well I hope! Mine was nice. If you don't know, I got a job... well, kinda. It was the job I had before I started Uni a year go. I used to work at Starbucks near my parents' house, and I reapplied for the summer and got rehired. It was the same manager, so it wasn't too hard. Any ways, here is Chapter 10, and I hope you all enjoyed it. If you do (or don't) please send me feed back. Please vote up, and subscribe if you haven't done so. Thank you all for reading!!

-Erica Jaine <33