this is how it starts || m.h

20) parents

A cold breeze bit at my skin as I picked at the slice of toast sitting in front of me, my coffee left forgotten beside the small plate.

Addie called me last night, telling me that my father's assistant had been calling.

"You're going to have to call them soon," she'd said, making her annoyance known as she spoke to me. "I can't keep stalling for you."

"Just say I'm away on a job or something," I told her. "It's not like they actually care, anyway."

"Serena, you know they care. They're your parents."

That comment frustrated me, because those people were far from parents. If anything, they were half-assed caretakers.

"They're responsible for my existence. That doesn't make them my parents."

"Well, just call them, would you?"

"Fine, I will."

My parents had always tried to uphold this image that they cared about me, and I suppose in a way, they might've.

They continued to keep tabs on me, making sure I never strayed too far from their sight. They gave me an allowance every month, despite the fact that I wasn't interested in their money.

All they really required from me was that I call them every couple of weeks to update them on the current state of my life, which actually meant letting them know my stance on working with them. And the answer to that would always be no, because I couldn't stand the thought of following in their footsteps, like they'd always believed I would.

I was pulled from my thoughts when I felt someone nudge my arm.

"You alright?" Matty asked.

"What?"

"Are you alright?" He asked again, his stare piercing through me. "You just seem a bit distracted."

"I'm fine."

I was fine. Because I wasn't going to call my parents so soon. There wasn't long left of the tour, so I would call them when I got home. There was no way I was going to let them ruin this for me.

Matty was still looking at me, his eyebrows raised in concern.

"I'm fine, really," I assured him, reaching across the small steel table to squeeze his hand. "I think I'm just a bit tired."

"Well you can go back to the hotel if you want?" He offered, brushing his thumb over my knuckle before pulling away, looking slightly uncomfortable now as he readjusted himself in his chair. "It's up to you."

"I'm alright here."

"Okay." He coughed, abruptly getting up from his seat. "I'm just going to the loo."

Maybe I should've gone back to the hotel.