Zero to Eighty

Harry was a dick wad, and I hated him with passion. What the hell was his deal anyway? Yes, I totally beat his ass in the race tonight but his sore loser demeanor was seriously getting on my last nerves. Call me out as Antoinette? Fine. Call me a bitch? Go right ahead. But the fact that Harry fucking Styles had the audacity to bring up my brother with such a negative connotation was in no-doubt, hands-down, straight-up mean.

After clocking him right in the lip, I saw Harry whimper and stagger away. If Regan were still alive, I know he would've masked the pride he'd have for witnessing my "take no shit from anyone" attitude, and instead lectured me about the importance of violence not being the answer. Harry deserved every little drop of blood that fell from his busted lip, and I'm sure Regan is watching from wherever he is with a big-ass smile on his face.

"Dude are you okay?"

I heard Liam ask Harry as I made my way from the booming scene, and out of The Warehouse. I unlocked my car with the clicker in my hand and sat behind the wheel, slamming the door shut. I turned the key in the ignition, and the engine purred. With the radio blasting Iggy Azalea's "Fancy", and my windows rolled down, I sped around the main building and to the front where the broken chain-linked fence stood. I quickly glanced in my rear-view mirror and caught glimpse of a bloody, and fuming Harry.

I rolled my eyes, "bitch."

Instead of celebrating my win tonight, I was in a pissy mood. But the solitary drive home was all I needed to calm myself down. I felt the oceanic breeze whip my face like tiny prickling icicles, and it felt good. I eventually turned down the music to hear the rumble of my engine as I made my way through the deserted streets of Marlow Point. At about three miles away from home, I felt a familiar numbing sensation in my body.

Oh fuck.

Like Harry cockface Styles predicted, my last drink caught up to me and I was suddenly feeling its effects pounding in my veins. Instead of increasing my concentration by tenfold, I revved up my engine. I dashed faster than the speed limit by 10 MPH, hoping to God that officers were too busy feasting at the local 24-hour drive thru Krispy Kreme, than patrolling the streets. Luck seemed to be on my side, because as I pulled into the gated community, I was safe from being pulled over, and the alcohol in my system quickly worked its magic.

I parked my car in the driveway, and although this was a stupid decision on my part… yolo. I was in no mood to hide this precious beauty back in the shed, which I knew will result in a lecture for sneaking out but I surely did not give a fuck at that moment. I rushed out of the car, my head feeling woozy, and my legs like jello. I took a deep breath, and without falling over, I entered the house through the front door, not even bothering to conceal my whereabouts.

I went straight for the kitchen, flickering on the lights and trudged right to the stainless steel refrigerator. Opening it, I grabbed a bottle of water and immediately downed the cold liquid. It soothed the cotton mouth, my dry throat, and rehydrated my body. I grabbed another bottle before heading upstairs to my room, shutting off the light behind me. In the upstairs hall, I noticed a stream of light leaking through the bottom crack of Regan's closed bedroom door.

The hell?

I stopped in front of it, placing my hand on the knob. Just as I was about to open the door, I heard a noise that immediately changed my mind, and I instead leaned in closer. I pressed my ear up against it, listening to the sniffles and sobs on the other side of the door.

"Anak… Regan, anak ko. Miss na miss kita. Mahal ko kita. Umuwi ka na, please anak ko…" **

Mom.

The crying wasn't uncontrollable or obnoxious in any way, but rather held notes of gloom and suffering. I legitimately felt sad, and a whiplash of guilt hit me hard in the gut. I used to always hate it whenever my mom or Regan would disagree-- that Regan's presence was a burden in my mom's life. But in that very moment, hearing my mother cry and plead for my brother's return, tore my heart. I didn't know what to do at that point. Do I go inside? Do I make a noise so she knows someone is awake? I opted for neither, backing away and retreating to the confines of my room.

I reached my hand inside my pocket and pulled out a bobby pin. I stuck it inside the small hole in the center of the knob, twisting and fidgeting around until I heard a click. I entered my room, closing the door behind me. I sat at the edge of my bed, turning on the lamp on the bedside table. I pulled open the drawer, and right where I left it, was the framed polaroid of my brother and I. I grabbed it, flipped out the back foot, and placed the photo in front of the lamp. I still hated the polaroid, and the fact that it was Harry who took it. But part of me realized that the photo wasn't there for my own sake.

It was there for my mom's.

I left The Warehouse ten minutes after getting my ego knocked down several hundred notches. I was usually one of the last to leave, but I couldn't stay and "party hardy" after being humiliated in front of all those people. It was bullshit the way Kenzie functioned. I could hit her with the worse, but she'd throw it right back in my face with so much power. She used to never be like that. Though we never really associated in high school, I still knew exactly who she was, and not just because her brother was my idol at the time.

If Mother Theresa, and the Precious Moments figurines fucked and had a child, it would most definitely be Kenzie Suarez.

I walked into the dark apartment, flipping the switch to turn on the light. I kicked off my shoes before quietly emerging into the living room, flipping on the kitchen light as my foot stepped onto the soft rug. I knocked something over, and I looked down to see an empty bottle of vodka at my toes. I sighed.

Of course.

My eyes landed onto the frumpy mass sprawled on the couch. A mane of tangled dark hair, mouth agape, and one heel dangling off her foot, my mother was clearly a work of art. I exhaled deeply, rubbing my face in frustration.

"Fuck, mum… get your shit together," I grumbled to myself.

I took the blanket that was draped over the armrest of the other couch, and shook it open. I laid it on top of my mom before grabbing the empty glass bottle and dirty plates on the coffee table. I retreated to the kitchen, dumping the plates into the sink. I heard my stomach growl, noticing that I hadn't eaten anything since work earlier. Opening the fridge, I was welcomed with empty shelves. Only bottles of beer, water, a moldy basket of strawberries, and a couple containers of blueberry yogurt graced the inside of the refrigerator.

I knew better than to leave $50 alone with my mother with the hopes that she'd actually buy groceries. But by the looks of it, all that was used with my hard earned money was a bottle of expensive vodka, and who knows what else. Who was I kidding? My mum was an alcoholic; a fuck up; a child. Simple tasks like cleaning the apartment, or buying groceries was impossible for my mother, and I needed to stop thinking that maybe, she'd actually grow the fuck up.

"Des…" mum grumbled in her slumber. She tossed around on the couch for a moment, the shoe that hung on her foot falling to the floor.

She seemed to always have the same dream. I knew this because almost every night she'd mumble my father's name in her sleep. He wasn't even physically here, and he was still fucking with this family.

I buried my face into the palms of my hands, my elbows resting on the granite countertop, my body leaning forward. Today was a long day, and coming home to an empty fridge, and a drunk mother wasn't exactly my cup of tea. For once I'd like to step into my home, and feel like I'm home.

I grabbed the stack of mail at the edge of the countertop, and headed to my room; my sanctuary. I kept the mess in my room down to a minimum, only a few pairs of work pants sprawled on the floor. I flopped down onto the bed, quickly going through the stack of mail. A postcard with a shiny photo of the Empire State Building was among the collection of envelopes. Flipping it over, I read the short note written in girly penmanship:

Harry, New York is brilliant-- you'd love it. I think you should come visit me sometime. You need a break baby brother. Hope all is well with you. I miss you loads. Lots of love, Gemma.

My older sister was attending Uni on the other side of the country. Though she could've easily continued her studies here in California, she explained that New York had better opportunities for her. Bullshit. She just wanted to get away from this toxic family. I just wished she could've taken me with her.

Continuing to flip through the pile of bills, and other important letters, I came across a familiar envelope with the apartment complex's seal on the top right corner. I ripped it open and pulled out single piece of paper inside, unfolding it. It was the receipt for last month's rent-- paid in full and no outstanding charges.

Thanks, dad.

Despite the fact that my dick of a father walked out on this family with no note or warning, leaving us all stunned and broken from his sudden disappearance in our lives, he still managed to be part of our lives. Every month since he left, our rent, electricity, cable, and internet bills were paid for. Initially we-- and when I say we, I mean Gemma and I, were worried about how we were going to pay for things. But after the first month without my father rolled by, everything was paid for. Months and months passed, and each time, our bills became less of a worry. I will never forgive my father for leaving us, but I was thankful that he still managed to help out.

Wherever the fuck he was.

** Translation: Child… Regan, my child. I miss you so much. I love you. Come home now, please my child...

Notes

Happy Memorial Day... for those who celebrate. And if you don't, happy Monday! :)

I hope you all had a great weekend, and extra day to sleep in and spend time with good people! Anyways, Chapter 8, showing a little bit into Harry's life at home. Maybe there is a reason why he's such a dick sometimes? I really hope you all liked this chapter, and the story so far! If you do, please vote up if you haven't done so, subscribe, and leave me feedback (good or bad). Thank you all for reading! Thanks!

-Erica Jaine <33