Fall to Pieces

Punishment

After I take a steaming hot shower, and call Frankie to tell her how grateful I am of her amazing friendship skills, I walk to dads study. My father is filthy rich. He is a world renowned interior and exterior home designer, and so of course our home is something out of those movies or magazines. The walls draped in paint that match the furniture, or the tiles that match the curtains. Ever since my mother died, all he ever does is work. He locks himself away in his study, being the excessive workaholic he is. I guess that's why I'm surprised that he's calling me. I mean, the only time we really bond is when we're in front of the camera. Fake smiles and pretty dresses is when my fathers love can shine through. The study is empty, leaving me alone to soak in its beauty. Russian rugs, stained glass from Portugal and the hardwood floor from Italy. Mom decorated this study, her books aligned neatly against the walls and her pictures, too. Pictures of her, just her. I have to relive her dazzling and charming love just by looking at her smile. For the most part, his office is pretty clean. I lean back against the chair, and sigh. Is it bad that I don't even remember what my dad looks like?
The door opens behind me and someone sits in the chair beside me. I can already tell from the Irish Springs scent that its my twin brother, Isaac.
"You too?" He asks. "What did you do?"
"I should be asking you the same thing."
Again, the door swings open, and we both twist around to see my father. He's wearing a suit, and he is definitely not smiling. He doesn't say a word, instead, he just sits in his leather chair, folds his hands, and stares at us. There is this very, very bad feeling whirring within me.
"Anastasia Ivory O'Neil."
"Yes, sir," I weakly whisper.
"It seems as though you have a problem."
I shake my head in denial. "No sir, not at all."
He sighs, and starts his lecture. "I'm not asking, I'm telling you. You're an alcoholic, Anastasia. Your friends are worried. I'm worried. People are going to talk, and not only will it bring down your reputation, but mine as well. You are twenty three years old, fresh out of university, and you should be looking for a job. Instead, you're out there, drinking to infinity, at three in the morning. Why, Anastasia?"
I lick my lips, and watch the clock. I can't tell my father why I'm like this. I highly doubt he'll believe me. I highly doubt anybody will believe me. He continues, "Very well then, seeing as you don't have anything to say, I will help you solve this problem. You are my daughter, and until I am assured that you are not headed down a path full of destruction, I'm putting down my foot. On January 2nd, you will be arriving in Nicaragua, where you will be staying for the next eight months, volunteering in an orphanage. You have one week to prepare. And no, this is not an option."
"If I don't go?"
"I will disown you, Anastasia. You will no longer be my child by name, which means when its my time to go, none of my hard earned money will be in your hands. Not only that. You will not live here. You will be completely and utterly alone. So. Are you going to go?"
Realizing that I don't really have a choice, I mumble, "Yes, sir."
"Fabulous. You will need to go to the doctors for your shots, and shopping for appropriate clothing...."
I tune him out, trying to steady my heart. I am miserable. What was left of my life has been shattered, and I can feel myself falling to pieces. I can't breathe. My past will always haunt me. My past is why I'm here. Maybe, just maybe, this punishment is a good thing. Maybe, I can be set free, and fly. If only I could find my wings.