Love, Hate, and Family Ties

City of Angels

My father drags me into another alleyway around the corner. He shoves me roughly against the wall, making sure that I hit my head.

"Did you see the look on his face Amber? Do you see now that he would never, COULD never, have any type of feelings for you. Other than pure fear, of course!"he says calmly with a menacing smile.

I look down at my feet, dejected, and know hes right. "You said you needed me for the rest of the day?" I say, eager to change the subject.

"Yes, that's right. I do. WE'RE MOVING!" he says with mock excitement.

"WHAT!?" I yell, shocked. We can't move. I'll have no one but him. I need Carrie. I can't leave her.

"Calm down! It's only temporary. We are gonna take a LITTLE trip to the City of Angels." he says with the smile that says he's got something planned.

"We... we're relocating to L.A!? Why?" I ask, thoroughly confused.

"I have some 'business' down there, and I am sure as HELL not leaving you here." he says, turning away from me. He begins to walk down the alley away from me. All of a sudden I seem to regress in age. I run to him and throw my arms around him.

"NOOO! DADDY PLEASE I DON'T WANNA GO TO L.A! I DON'T WANNA LEAVE GOTHAM!" I yell, sobbing into is arm. In one swift movement he uses the arm I was crying on to throw me back, into the wall, knocking me down to my knees. I look up at him and cower in fear as he yells at me.

"I DID NOT RAISE YOU TO BE A WEAK, SNIVELLING, BITCH! YOURE TWENTY- THREE YEARS OLD! IF YOU'RE GONNA ACT LIKE THIS I SHOULD JUST KILL YOU NOW! IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT?! IS IT?!" At the word "kill" he pulled a switchblade out of one of his inside coat pokets and holds it at my face, grabbing the back of my head and neck, waiting for my answer.

"N-No dad." I say quietly, terrified.

He pulls away from me slowly, careful not to catch me with the blade, and puts the knife away. "Then shut up and don't ever let me catch you crying again. Do I make myself clear?" he says, looking directly in my eyes.

"Crystal." I say, breathing deeply, thankful I'm even able to breathe at the moment. Funny how things you take for granted everyday, like breathing and living, could be taken from you at any moment and you wouldn't even realize it until it's too late. At this moment, all I care about is that I am alive to see another day and live my life, however pathetic it may be. I no longer care whether I go to L.A. or not, only that I'm alive, and well, and that I'm with my only family.

"Good. Come on then. We are leaving right now on the plane I 'aquired.'" he says, helping me to my feet. "I've already packed everything you'll need for the few days we're there. And yes. I packed your stupid cell phone."

He takes me by the elbow and leads me down the alleyway towards home.

On the private jet my dad "aquired," illegaly of course, he down two bottles of whiskey and three pills of unknown origin before passing out, snoring loudly because of how incapacitated he is. He's the reason I will never touch alcohol. It's disgusting what it does to people. And the drugs... I don't know what they are, but I know he's addicted to them. I have no idea what they do to him, or how they make him feel, I also have no desire to find out. Mainly because he'll make me find out the hard way: by slipping some in my drink or food.

I've made that mistake before. He's always been a drug addict. Ever since I can remember. As a child, around ten or eleven, I asked him why he smoked pot. Not in those exact words, obviously, I was ten, I knew nothing. But I soon found out. The next day he baked brownies for me. Needless to say I 1) understood what marjuana does to you, and 2) promised myself never to eat or drink anything that man gives me without sniffing it for drugs, poison, or any other questionable substances. Or better yet, just don't eat what he gives me. Period.

We touch down in L.A. Local time is 5:00 p.m. The Joker has been awake for about half an hour. Soon, the henchman piloting the plane says we can disembark and we do. Father throws me into the backseat of a waiting van, throwing my stuff in after me.

"You'll be taken to our temporary Hideout. It's not going to be as 'luxurious' as our home in Gotham, but I don't wanna hear you complain. Got it?" he says, looking and sounding groggy. He's obviously hungover.

"Don't worry dad. I'll have nothing to complain about." I tell him, just so I don't start a fight. Sometimes you gotta learn when to hold your tongue, though why he thinks I'll complain to HIM, let alone complain at all, is beyond me.

"I don't know when I'll be home." he says, rubbing the back of his head, looking very tired. This is my favorite part of my dad, when he's hungover, but tired. Not the angry hangover. When he's got the tired kind of hangover he's almost nice, sometimes loving. It's when he shows me his true feelings towards me, and I'm reminded that he loves me. "Will you be okay on your own?"

"Yeah dad. Don't worry about me." I say, smiling at him admiringly.

"You're welcome to wander around. We are located near Hollywood. Thought you'd get a kick out of that. If you go out take your phone. If I get home and you're not there I'll give you a call. Now get out of my sight." he says, slamming the door.

I sigh for what feels like the millionth time today. 'Get out of my sight,' and variations of that, is Joker speak for 'I love you.' I've had to learn this growing up. I turn on my phone.

I have a text from Michael.

"-Amber. Please. I didn't know what to say. I'd still like to see you again. Will you meet me for dinner tomorrow?-"

I consider not responding. I have never been as good at giving someone the cold shoulder as my dad. I mean, he did practically ignore me for my first five years of life. In the end I respond to him.

"- Honestly Michael, I didn't think I would ever hear from you again. I would love to meet you for dinner... but theres one small problem.... Dad 'temporarily' relocated us to L.A. I have no idea when we will be back, other than it's in 'a few days.' Maybe sometime when I get back?-"

After im dropped off at our new Hideout, an abandoned but surprisingly well kept warehouse, I find a room i'll make mine. It looks like dad had someone go ahead of us to set up beds and stuff in the rooms, even a kitchen has been made.

My phone vibrates. A text from Michael.

"-Let me know when you get back ok? And keep me updated on how you're doing. I worry about you now. And I promise I won't tell a SOUL about your dad. Your friendship means too much to me. Have a good nights sleep.-"

I smile. I wonder if he ever sleeps. It's pretty late back in Gotham. I send him a good night text and drop my phone into my purse.

It's 6:35 p.m. now. Time to see what all of the hype about Hollywood is. I leave the house with my phone on full volume and vibrate, so i know when my dad calls. As I walk towards Hollywood I jokingly wonder to myself if I'll meet anyone famous...