"You're a fucking pretentious asshole," He spat, his face beet red in anger, and his stubbornness shining through, pride dripping from his words, "You come in here and what?" He gestured harshly towards the duffel bag you held down at your side and then shook his head, giving you a look of disgust, "Get out of my house you good for nothing bitch!"
You narrowed your eyes at him, a frown planted on your face, and then you nodded, turning away to leave. Right as you got to the door, you dropped the bag with a thud, and then before you left, you called back like you always did.
"See you in a few years, dad." Oop.
With that, you shut the door, and the only sound echoing down that apartment hallway was the clicking of the heels on your boots.
When you made it outside, the sky had darkened and the street had a lot less people on it than when you had gone inside, so you tied your black trench coat closed and pulled out your umbrella from your handbag. It did look like rain and the second you felt a dropped on your shoulder, you opened the clear umbrella up, walking down the block a bit until you hit the corner, waving down a cab.
"Where to miss?" He asked and you placed your bag on your lap, brushing down your coat so it would smooth out the dress underneath.
"Upper East Side," You told him, "And please, hurry," You smiled tightly, and he nodded, so you took a glance out the window, mumbling to yourself, "Get me the hell out of Queens."
The fare was high, but it never bothered you before and you stepped out onto your block with a deep breath, happy to be back at your own home.
It was a beautiful townhouse that costed an arm and a leg every month, but the location and safety of the neighborhood was all you really wanted. You'd be happy in a studio apartment eating ramen noodles and saving every penny you earned like you had done a few years ago, but things changed.
You hung up your coat when you got inside, locked the door, and unzipped your boots. You put your umbrella in the bin and then slipped out of your dress, changing into some grey sweatpants and a hoodie after reaching your room upstairs.
You weren't going out for the rest of the night, planning just to spend it in front of the TV with some food to erase what had just happened between you and your father.
It's what you did every few years, have a mopey, comfortable night to yourself where you drown in a pint of ice cream, eat way too much Indian food, and then pass out in front of the TV.
Then tomorrow, you'd wake up and probably take a visit to one of the banks in the heart of Manhattan or maybe you'd travel outside the state for a different scenery. After that, you'd probably do some shopping, meet up with a few of the people in your social circle, go to a party, and then deal with the hangover the following morning.
The usual.
You had no need for a three-bedroom townhouse with two and half bathrooms, a stunning chef's kitchen, and an immaculate living room with an outdoor terrace that lined the small yard beautifully, but you had money weighing you down at this point, so why not? Why not smother yourself in the finer things when you can quite literally get anything you want?
Sure, money can't buy you a decent father or a mother who was still living, but this designer hoodie sure felt damn good, and you always gave yourself the best of the best with everything.
And yeah, you couldn't keep a relationship to save your life, but the people you did spend your time with were not exactly the type to care about your issues unless it translated to their advantage.
So, that meant a lot of meaningless flings and girlfriends who didn't stick around for more than a month, but you never blamed them. It was probably the obvious lying on your part that turned them off but telling them you have a deadbeat dad, and a tragic backstory wasn't exactly something you wanted to share with anyone. It wasn't a life they were interested in at all, and you'd never fault them for that, you completely understood. They wanted someone who came from a rich family or was a huge success in whatever they were passionate about and even though you came with the money, you didn't have either of those things, so it always brought on questions.
Like, how'd you get the money, what do your parents do, where did you go to university, and what kind of twenty something year old lives in an old, historic townhouse.
So many questions and yeah, you have some answers, but it's nothing they'd want to hear.
You popped open a bottle of scotch and then eyed your ice cream, shrugging before pouring some into the half empty container. You flicked on the TV and started zoning out with whatever marathon they were having with some old detective show.
But you were happy for the most part.
You didn't have a clear plan of what you wanted to do with your life, but at your age, few people do, and there's plenty of time for that if you even needed to give it thought. Right now, you were enjoying your freedom and you knew deep down it would come to an end eventually because, according to the news, you weren't the only one out there with these types of gifts.
You recently discovered that this world is full of gods, super soldiers, heroes, assassins, and so on that could easily catch on to what you were doing if you raised enough red flags.
So, you had to get more and more careful with how you went about it because New York was only so big.
"Slovakia could be fun for a while." You thought out loud with a small shrug and flicked the channel, settling in to watch 'It's a Wonderful Life', a movie you never saw growing up, but made you feel like you were surrounded by family anyway.
Little did you know, you'd be going to someplace a little bit west of Slovakia in just a few days.
