The Roommate

prologue part 1

I didn't mean to get arrested.

I mean truly, it was an accident.  Although, it wasn't the first time.

It was, however, the first time I was actually being charged with a crime. But who knew that beating up perv on the side of the street with an umbrella was considered an "assault and battery" charge?! Not me.

I had never seen mom get so mad before. It was honestly pretty fucking scary.

But by no means was mom more mad than Royce.

Royce was my new step-father, and he was absolutely-stupid-mega loaded. I mean, this man had six cars. Like who the hell needs that many cars??

Royce was practically blowing steam out of his ears when he came to post my bail. I think it took everything in him to not scream the second he saw me sitting in that small, smelly cell, drenched from the rain and covered in splotches of that perv's blood. I for one, was pretty fucking impressed with myself for dodging all of his swings, and for teaching that musty bum not to whistle at girl's asses when they walk by.

~~~~~

The second we got home, I was sent up to my room and told to stay there for the rest of the night. Mom wouldn't even come to see me.

At some point in the night, I got thirsty and went down stairs to get some water from the kitchen.

On the way back up, I got lost, again, in Royce's stupid mansion.

I somehow found my way to his office, and I could hear the muffled voices of him and my mother talking. The door was slightly open, so I decided to eavesdrop.

"She can't keep doing these careless things, Reese, and expect us to just come and get her out of the problem she caused!"

"I know, honey, but-"

"There is no 'but'! She's actually done it this time! She's going to trial, and now my lawyers are going have to work double to make sure she doesn't get a sentence! She beat a man with a damn umbrella!"

"I'm sure there's a backstory, Royce."

Well at least my mom was trying to defend me. Although, I'm sure it wouldn't do anything. Once Royce gets something set in his head, it is almost impossible to convince him otherwise.

"I'm sure there is, hun, but a judge isn't gonna care. All they will see is that Dakota decided to beat some random, unsuspecting man on the street. She and my reputation will fall into pieces!"

Of course all that man cared about was his reputation. I mean if I was the CEO and founder of a billion-dollar business, I would too, but seeing as that wasn't the case, I was hurt.

Well not really, but still. 

"Reese, I know you may not want to hear this, but I think it would do her some good to send her to a special school. I have this buddy in California that runs an academy for the type of kid Dakota is. People send their havoc-wreaking kids, and they come back tame and normal. I really think this is the best thing for her."

WTF!! There is no way in hell Royce is sending me away. Who the fuck does he think he is?! My goddamn father?! Ab-so-fucking-lutely not.

I was so mad, that I hadn't even realized I was choking on air until I saw mom and Royce's heads turn in my direction.

"Sorry, sir and ma'am, I was just, uh.... well I, uhm, uh...OH! I was dusting this uh, this self! Yes! This self! Very, very dusty! Sorry, sorry!!" I panicked yelled in the most high-pitch, fake accent I could. I mentally thanked God that they couldn't actually see me, and I practically sprinted the way back to my room.

~~~~~

During the entirety of my trial, I stared. royce. down. It was entertaining to watch him squirm under my gaze.

This assface really convinced my very own mother to send me away.

Once my trial concluded, I would board a plane that would take me to San Diego County, the place that housed the oh-so prestigious Skywood Sierra Academy. My new home for the next 3 years. I don't know about you, but I am absolutely fucking joyed. not.

I do have to give it to Royce's lawyers, though, because they really pulled their fucking shit together to make sure I didn't get a sentence.

They had this really good freaking idea to have me take the stand, and fake-cry while explaining what the man did to make me beat him to a pulp. I was really good at crying on cue, and the judge and jury actually believed it.

Tim, one of Royce's lawyers, said that my crying was probably the only reason I wasn't going to juvie.

Juvie does sound way better than fucking SkYwOoD sIeRrA right about now, though.