Let's get something straight...

20.

"Hey, Cash- what are you doing?"

I turned to give mom an exasperated look as I motioned to the boxes upon boxes, some full, most of them empty, nearly overtaking the floor of my bedroom.

"Cleaning."

Her brows furrowed as she took in the sight of all the boxes nearly overflowing with the variety of trinkets I'd already stuffed into most of them. From keychains and headbands to travel mugs, collectible figures, and plushies- a whole slew of shit from the theme park Asheton had taken me to yesterday.

I don't know how or when he'd managed to get all that stuff into my room and I'd been way too tired last night to deal with the mess when I came upon it after Nico left, so I just closed the door on all the cute little trinkets nearly spilling out the room and spent the night in the guest room.

By noon, I figured I'd put it off long enough, so I armed myself with some of the spare cardboard boxes mom kept in the garage and made the long trek up the stairs and into the mess that awaited me.

Angry wasn't enough of a word to do the feelings welling up inside me justice.

Frustration didn't even get close to describing them.

And off the walls pissed was a poor joke of a phrase that couldn't possibly capture how fucking LIVID I was.

He'd filled my room with theme park memorabilia!

From my bed and desk to the floor and closet- hell, even my fucking clothes hamper was covered in heaps of all kinds of shitty souvenirs!

And, judging from the small glimpses I caught of the price tags on some of the stuff, he'd spent a whole shitload of money on all of it!

And I'm not talking triple digits here.

"Tsk." I clucked my tongue in annoyance, just thinking about it again.

The things he could spend his money on.

Seriously.

Did he even bother checking the tags on any of these things? Or did he simply tell the teenage clerk at the register to wrap it all up then went on his merry way?

And why the hell would he send all this stuff to me anyway? Did he not learn from last time? Did he want another bruised forehead? A broken nose, maybe?

"Haa," I sighed as I reached for another little keychain figurine from the dozens still littering my bed and dropped it into the box at my feet. I'd never understand the bastard.

"Rio sure pulled out all the stops again, didn't he?" Mom chuckled amusedly.

I clucked my tongue again.

"Aww, c'mon, don't be angry, Cash, this is just his way of showing affection."

By buying other people's?

Was that supposed to make things better?

"Great..." I said flatly.

Not even an hour into this and I was already over it. I just wanted to throw myself into bed and pull the covers over me and hibernate for the next few weeks. But the likelihood of that happening, with all the crap in here, was as good as nonexistent.

And mom wasn't making things easier either. She was just standing there, yapping away without a care in the world, while I had to suppress the violent urge to just toss everything in the garbage and call it a day.

"Well," Mom continued, happily unaware of the air of tired indifference oozing out of me. "What exactly are you going to do with all this stuff?"