Rhea
I snuck behind my house and palmed open the back door. Hopefully my mom would be too busy grading homework. Or asleep, if I was lucky.
As the only parental figure in our household, she tended to freak out when I came home this late. My sister Annabeth was only fourteen, and my father… well, he’s been hospital bound for as long as I can remember. Weak immune system, according to the doctors.
Because of how abused antibiotics have become in recent years, they don’t really work anymore – the microorganisms they were designed to prevent grew immune. So he’s kind of eternally sick. Very expensive, very new, and very controversial antibiotics exist, but we would’ve gone bankrupt trying to pay for them.
So my mom spent her time away from University work researching a cure for him.
When Annabeth and I were little, we would play this game we called Gladiator. Basically, we gathered a bunch of random things from the house, or the woods outside. We could even buy materials from the store if we wanted. Then we swapped. After getting 24 hours to make the best weapon we could out of the materials given, we did a classic Old Western style showdown.
One day, I gave Annabeth a plank of wood. I wanted to see how creative she’d get.
She used it to make a high speed sling-shot, accidentally breaking my arm.
Mom didn’t come home from the lab for three nights.
Three nights of me trying to dress my own injury, using one of her bras as a makeshift sling.
When she finally did come home, she didn’t even comment on my arm. Just told us to stop playing Gladiator.
Instead of being there for us, she tried to regulate what we did from far away. Overbearing. Controlling.
I crossed my fingers and stepped into the house.
“Rhea Esmond, do you know what time it is?”
I winced. Last name meant this was serious.
“Yes,” I answered. “But the fact that I know the time must mean I wasn’t drunk or high on Harmony, right? So it’s okay.” I smiled nervously.
My mother was not amused.
“Wrong answer,” she said. “Do you think this is becoming of a rising University student? That being ‘out and about’ past two in the morning would reflect well upon either of us?”
University? That’s what she cares about?
Yeah, I’m okay, Mom. I wasn’t robbed or attacked or kidnapped.
Thanks for asking, though.
She ranted on. “And what about your sister? If I hadn’t come home from the lab early, how do you propose she would’ve eaten?”
She can cook, mom. Annabeth likes to cook. She’s a fantastic cook.
You’d know this if you were actually around.
“You’re grounded,” she said. “First you text me saying you’re at a warehouse with some guy doing God knows what, where the hoodlums live no less, and now you show up with no word on where you’ve been, no consideration for your family, and no consideration for your future? School, homework, and bed. Nothing else. Indefinitely.”
The words were in my head.
I was with a friend, mom. He shared a very deep secret with me. We connected.
I was trying to make that pervert leave town, mom. He’s dangerous, and you have enough to worry about.
Fuck, mom, I’m eighteen. I can hang out with a friend if I want to.
It’s really not that bad. Relax.
That’s what I wanted to say.
If I was in the right frame of mind, I would’ve explained to her how frustrating she was being.
How she was never there for me. For Annabeth.
But I wasn’t.
I was tired, I finally had a friend who I could relate with, and I wasn’t so alone anymore.
How dare she try and take that away?
Exhaustion and frustration and anger and betrayal, they contorted into a new sort of feeling. Something more primal, something that shoved its way through all logic and reason. I mentally apologized to Annabeth and let loose the shitstorm.
“Mom? You haven’t earned the right to say those words.”
“You don’t know anything about me. Newsflash, I’m not one of your experiments.”
“Dad isn’t curable, you know. I accepted that the first time you left Annabeth and I to fend for ourselves.”
“Actually, you know what?”
Her face contorted with each verbal punch, until I could feel her shock, her rage.
“Fuck you,” I said, pronouncing each word carefully. Making sure she heard the years of neglect behind each syllable.
She tried to slap me, but I grabbed her wrist before she connected.
I wasn’t scared of my mother anymore.
So I dropped her wrist and said it again, harder this time. Jasper opened himself up to me, trusted me. It’s time for me to be honest with myself.
“Fuck you, mom. Fuck University, and fuck you.”
Her eyes followed me, speechless, as I turned around and walked out the door.
* * *
I had a goal, of course. Jasper would help me.
He had to. We were friends circa 14 hours ago.
I stopped at a twenty-four drug store to buy coffee. It wasn’t really the healthiest or most efficient drink compared to some of the other energy drinks on the market, but I liked coffee. It was my indulgence.
I sat down in my car and thought things through.
First: I was alone, in the middle of the night, with nothing but my car, my phone and my wallet.
Second: Unless I wanted to go back home and face the music – which I most definitely did not – I was as good as homeless. I didn’t have any cash, and paying for a hotel with credit would let mom know where I was.
Third: I don’t really know anybody who my mom doesn’t influence aside from Jasper.
Fourth: I don’t know where Jasper lives.
Fifth: … He’s not answering his phone.
Awesome.
I downed my coffee and drove around aimlessly for as long as the caffeine would allow me to, opting for the “Hopefully Jasper will wake up and respond before I’m forced to fall asleep in my car” approach.
When I almost swerved into a passing car, I called it quits.
Parking my car in the most inconspicuous parking lot I could find, I turned my car off and fell asleep.
Hopefully Jasper’s free tomorrow.
* * *
This is too easy.
The bitch just parks her car somewhere and dozes off?
She doesn’t even lock it?
I turned binocular mode off. A notification popped up in the center of my field of vision.
[Agent Black, the mission is a-go. Bring the package to target destination. Handle with care. – Agent Green]
Fuck, I couldn’t even have fun with her before I kidnapped her?
I sighed. That mutated fire freak was lucky.
At least tonight won’t be so boring. The brothels here are open twenty-four hours a day, after all.
Kylerweb 
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