The Elites

Chapter IV: Daddy Issues

Happy Summer!

Chapter IV: Daddy Issues

"Oh, my God," I breathed, spinning around in a circle. I probably looked like a newborn foal seeing the world for the first time, but I couldn't find it in my heart to care. "This can't be my room."

I was standing in the middle of a bedroom, digging my toes into the plush, bright pink carpet. In the far corner of the room, there was a king sized, canopy bed, covered with a black comforter that had exotic patterns of pink and white flowers etched into it. Sitting a few feet away from it, was a long, comfortable looking, black couch.

On the right side of the bed, there was a nightstand with the same patterns of flowers on the lamp. Next to the lamp was a pink landline phone, shaped like a pair of lips. There was a large wardrobe near the door and a few feet away from it, there was a dresser with a mirror. If that wasn't enough, hanging on the ceiling was a beautiful chandelier that looked as though it cost more than my mother's house.

There was a long window, shielded with long black curtains, and right in front of it was a window seat, covered with plush pillows. Hanging in the view of the window seat and the bed was a 32 inch flat screen television, and directly beside it, my long, full name in bold, pretty cursive letters.

"It's yours," Brady announced, replying to my earlier statement. I turned my head to the side to see that he was casually leaning against the frame of the doorway, his hands stuffed into his tuxedo's pockets.

After directing me into the house, he'd led me through the house. The house-excuse me-mansion was a maze. I walked through the hallways in a daze, surprised to see the expensive works of arts and pictures of me hanging from the walls.

Some of them were old pictures, that showed me when I was younger. The oldest one showed he and Mom took me to to the ice skating rink for the first time. Another one showed him and me sitting on a park bench, eating ice cream. Most of the ice cream managed to end up around my face and on my pink tank top.

In the pictures, my dad was young. He had a boyish face and he was grinning. In any of the pictures, he was not older than twenty one which would explain why he looked as young as he did. After so many years, I expect him to look older with gray hair and a few wrinkles.

The old pictures were at the beginning of the hallway, but if you kept walking, you would also see some that were taken of me when I was older. I was aware that someone was taking a picture of me in some of them, but in others I didn't know. For example, in one picture, I was sitting on the tire swing, in Kimmy's front yard, reading a book. And on another picture, I was walking out of school, Kim following close behind me.

They were beautiful, but I was confused as to how he got them. I'd wanted to ask Bradley, but he never gave me time to speak. He was too busy dragging me through the stupid mansion.

After going turning for millionth turn, I gave up on trying to remember the turns. After making the billionth turn, we finally laid eyes on it. I was speechless. It seemed impossible to believe that this was the bedroom that I was going to sleep in for the next few months.

It still kinda was.

I wasn't used to beautiful and expensive things, mostly because my bedroom is a a collaboration of furniture from the Salvation Army, and random items my mother managed to find on the side of the road. It was nothing beautiful or exceptional about it.

I remember the first time Kimmy came to my house I was terribly embarrassed. She invited me to her house earlier that week, and when I was there, I saw things that my mother would never be able to afford. Her bedroom had been filled with fluffy, adorable stuffed animals and new dolls while all my stuffed animals and dolls were torn or had broken parts. Surprisingly, Kimmy didn't mind, and she played with my toys as if they weren't falling apart. Literally. She just didn't care even though all of her things were beautiful.