Merciless Angel

Chapter 1- Scarlett

"Scarlett, turn down that racket for one second and listen to me!" Frank commands while continuously rapping at my bedroom door. It's unlocked. I don't know why he couldn't just knock twice and calmly ask if he could talk to me. That's the thing with Frank; he's the typical alpha male type. He has to do everything loud and proud. If you can't hear it, then it didn't happen. It's great for my mom since it keeps her on her toes, but not so great for me. When it comes to communicating with him, I always get that black nub at the end of a perfectly ripe banana. 

I open my eyes, sighing exuberantly in the process, turn down I Wanna Be Sedated by The Ramones, and let it finish playing out its last few seconds of ba ba baba baba ba babas before I decide to pause my iPod and slothfully turn my head to face the door.

"The door's open, by the way. What do you want, Frank?" I ask, already irritated with his predictable behavior. 

He steps in halfway, looking down at the cluttered mess next to my bed, shakes his head in disapproval, and looks up. "Don't talk to me like you're a pouty five year old. Can you act your age for once?" His perfectly trimmed mustache twitches impatiently as he mutters under his breath.

"Do you even know how old I am?" I challenge innocently. His eyes narrow resentfully.

"You're..." he pauses, clearly stumped by the question. "...sixteen and much too young to go live in Chicago by yourself," he says matter-of-factly.

"I'm not going to live by myself; I'm living with Ryan." I've told him this for— what is it now— the fifth time? "Remember, he's my brother. And by the way, I'm seventeen," I state, agitated even more than when this conversation first began. Frank acts like such a know it all, yet he doesn't know a thing about me. I click the play button on my iPod and turn it up to block out his angered answer.

I've only known Frank for a couple of months, but it was enough of him to last a lifetime. My mom has gone through many boyfriends in the last few years; Frank being her latest. He was "stable", as she liked to put it. With a retirement fund already and a steady job, he has already accomplished so much more than she has. My mom thought some stability in life would be good for me. Of course, like everything else she has done, she forgot to actually consider what I thought. She never took the time to think about if I even wanted a father, or wanted to meet any of her 'boy toys'. I was used to it by now because I met so many, but I still wasn't down with it.

We moved so many times in the past five years from her crazes that I actually lost count. We traveled all over the United States and Canada, never staying anywhere for more than half a year. I never got the chance to make friends, and a boyfriend was completely out of the question.

When going to school, I kept silent. I was a good student: good grades, never tardy, perfect attendance. However, there were a few times where I would get caught in a fight, ignore the teachers, tag the bathroom stalls, or start a fire. Too bad they couldn't punish me for any of that, because by the time something would happen, I would already be out and moving across the country. Getting into some minor trouble was no big deal. I guess that was my way of leaving a mark wherever I went.

For the first few moves, whenever my mom would tell me that we had to leave soon, I remember continuously arguing with her, begging her to let us stay. She never budged from the idea. I've moved so many times that I have become accustomed to it now. I don't ask why, or plead not to, anymore. When she says that it's time, then it's time.

Truthfully, I was always fine with it just being my mom and I, but lately she suddenly needed companionship, so I would constantly help her get ready for dates or shop for 'sexy clothes.' She was like a teenage girl obsessed with boys, except she wasn't exactly a teenage girl. But, then again, she was quite young when she became a mother. Her and my dad 'hooked up' on several occasions when they were young; one time producing my brother, and another time producing me. She always told us that we were blessings, but I couldn't believe her. Her life changed for the worst when she was fifteen, and she has been struggling ever since.