Flick

II

"Your brother called again." I jumped at the sound of Amber's voice when I walked into the apartment building.

"Yeah, and?"

She rolled her eyes, and kicked her feet off the lobby desk. "And, Emil has called four times this week, and you've ignored every single one of them."

I took a quick puff of my cigarette. "Yeah, and?"

Amber growled, standing up and coming around to stand in front of me. "Flick, why the hell do you have to be so stubborn all the time?" She asked, crossing her arms over her chest. "Emil is trying to reach out to you."

I let the cigarette hang from the corner of my mouth. "What do you want me to do here?" I asked. I shoved my hands into my jean pockets, wishing I could just go up already.

"Call the boy Flick, that's what I want you to do."

I shook my head. "He knows where I am, if he cared so much he'd come see before five fucking years went by." I closed my eyes briefly, the beginnings of a headache rearing its ugly head.

Amber sighed and grabbed the cigarette from my mouth. "Or maybe, that's what your telling yourself as an excuse to push him away." She gave me a long look as she walked behind me. "Just saying." She flopped back down in the desk chair and put her feet up, my cigarette now dangling from her lips.

"Yeah well, I didn't ask you to 'just say' anything about my family relations."

Amber shrugged, a small smirk playing on her lips. "So you gonna call him?" I sighed.

"I don't know Amber. Probably not."

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "So fucking stubborn Felicity Carter. One day that'll backfire. Just you wait."

I shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not."

"Oh it will!" Amber yelled after me as I turned to walk to the elevator.

Apartment 17B. The two bedroom hobbit hole I shared with my mom, and at one point in time, six boys. I shared a room with at least one of my brothers until a year ago. I would be grateful for the privacy I now had, but it certainly had come at a price. It smelled like weed and whiskey inside. I can barely remember a time that it didn't. I'm not sure when Mom went down hill. Maybe it was the stress of supporting seven kids on a waitresses salary. Or maybe it was the weight of all her failed hollywood dreams.

Either way, the sight I was welcomed with when I stepped into the smelly, dark apartment, would have been traumatizing if I wasn't so used to it by now. Mom laid on the couch, drooling and snoring, a bottle of whiskey and a bag of weed on the floor beside her. She was dressed in a Golden Girls t shirt I found for her at goodwill, a pair of jeans that were stained with some sort of liquid I had no interest in identifying, and some black leather boots that I knew she had stolen from our neighbor a few months ago. She was out cold. She had been at the bar. That wasn't hard to figure out. And from her state, I guess it must have been fun.

Sighing, I set to work doing what I had been doing every night for the last year and a half. I felt like a mother doting over her sleeping child while I pulled off her shoes, and tidied up her mess. Only this child was a fifty year old woman with a drinking problem, and this parent was her 12 year old daughter who knew all too well how to fix her up without waking her. I finished in about 20 minutes.

I slinked off into my bedroom immediately. I hate being out there. Makes me feel dirty just looking at her like that. I sighed, sliding down my door. I pulled another cigarette out of my pocket and reached onto my bedside table for a match. I needed a cigarette after that. I've only been smoking for a few months or so. Jackson started me off when we started out late night talks. What was once a painful way to feel included, had quickly spiraled into a comforting pain that I looked for all the time. I knew it was bad, and I knew I was too young for all that, but I needed something to make me feel better, and my logic was cigarettes were better than drugs.

A tear leaked from my eye as I took a long breath in. I was so tired of doing this with her. I couldn't remember a time before I did this. It was sad. My life was just so damn sad sometimes. And what's worse, was there was never a thing I could do about it.

I heard the distant humming of a phone. I would have ignored it if I wasn't concerned about Mom waking up. I wiped my cheek roughly as I pushed myself off the ground. I could still hear the soft sound of Moms heavy breaths as I walked past the living room. She hadn't shifted, even with the persistent screech of the phone.

I picked up the ancient landline and pressed the receiver to my ear. It was silent for a second. I was not going to be the first one to speak. "Hello? Mom? Felicity?" I sucked in a sharp breath at the sound of the familiar voice on the other end of the line. Emil. He was the only one who ever really bothered to check in. But twice in one night. It made me wonder what could be wrong. I still didn't say anything. I was curious to see where this was going.

"Hello? Anyone there?" My cigarette dangled from my fingers, momentarily forgotten about. "Felicity? Mom?" I sighed, leaning against the counter.

"Hey," I whispered.

"Felicity! I'm so happy to hear from you, I've been calling all week but I only got Amber in the lobby."

"Been busy." I muttered. I brought the cigarette to my lips. I should have hung up the phone when I had the chance.

"Me too Felicity, work is killer." I wasn't sure what his job was. I didn't really care if I was honest.

"Huh, too bad." My tone was bored and monotone. I can't feign interest in someone who still calls me Felicity. I hate being called Felicity. But how could he know that after not laying eyes on me since I was seven?

"Yeah, it's okay. I know the others are really busy too." By others I assume he meant the other five of my brothers. The last of which I had seen a year and a half ago, when Cameron left for college. "But work is going well, for all of us. Not as busy as it used to be. Maybe we can see each other soon." He's been busy for the last five years. Not one of them has made in effort since I was a little kid. Why the hell was that changing now? Pity, I assume. Mixed with guilt and a little shame. "Me and the boys have miss you Fee." He sounded excited, yet sad. I swallowed the pungent taste of the smoke.

"Yeah." I hadn't missed him. Not really anyway. I had bigger problems than people outside my world. Especially when they chose to be that way.

"How have you been Felicity? I know it's been a while."

I rolled my eyes. "Look, I gotta go. It's really late and I gotta get back to bed." According to the stove clock, it was nearing 3 AM. But I wouldn't sleep. Not tonight, and not any night soon if I could help it.

"Oh yeah, sorry I forgot most people aren't awake at 3 AM. Sorry for waking you up."

Guess insomnia was a family trait. A hell of a curse too.

"Yeah. Night." I hung up before I could hear his response. I sighed deeply, taking another long drag from my cigarette. I shouldn't have answered.

The second I heard his voice, I should have hung up. Waste of my time, is what he is. I shook my head in annoyance. He was a jerk, saying he misses me after five goddamn years. Yeah, well I don't buy that shit.

Not from him, and not from anyone else who abandoned me in my own personal hell.

A/N-Do you like Flick as a character?