High Functioning Hopeless Romantic

Chapter 12

"M-mum?" I muttered under my breath. It was the only words that I could form from the thousands of questions that swarmed in my head.

"You should sit down," he said. He wrapped an arm around my shoulder and guided me to the couch. I closed my eyes in disbelief. How did my kidnapping have to with my mother and how did my dad know who this man was and- my thoughts were interrupted by his starting explanation.

"Your mother worked for him, a long time ago. She, well she extracted information for him from people. He never told her what the information was used for, but she assumed blackmail. Eventually though, the information gathering became too dangerous. She was getting death threats, threats to the family, even threats towards you."

I gulped. "So she was never a mail lady like she said?"

"Well she was, just erm, in a different way." Dad rubbed my back in slow soothing circles and I leaned into him, my head resting in his neck like I used to do as a little girl. The smell of his aftershave and peppermint toothpaste wafted around me. This used to be something that would calm me, but now it had no effect. Anytime something about my mother was brought up, it was like my whole being traveled to Antartica, frozen in thought and sadness over the woman that had left me too soon. 

I stood staring straight ahead. I knew that if I looked at my dad, then I would start to cry and would never stop. "Why would he want to kill her if she worked for him?"

"Your mom started working for him when she turned 18, following in her father's steps. You always wondered why you never met that side of the family? Well... Your grandpa tried to quit working for him, but you see, working for him is a lifelong contract. You can't just quit when you want. When he tried to quit, Magnussen is his name, began killing off everyone in their family. Your grandma, your uncle, your aunt, and then it came to your mom and your grandpa. He made a deal, that if your mom started working for him then she could stay alive, and so could your grandpa. But then, while your mom was away on her first mission, he killed your grandpa."

There was a short silence. I was too in shock to speak, and I knew dad was letting it all sink in.

"And then your mom stayed in the business, said she felt trapped. When she got pregnant with you though, it became harder on her and she decided to quit. She shed her identity and got a new one. Her real name is..."

"No. I don't-I'm not ready for that," I choked out, getting up and running to my room. My head pounded like someone was smashing a hammer against my brain, and I felt the remains of dinner sneaking up my throat. 

"Abi, you okay?" called my dad. 

I shook my head, knowing that if I tried to answer then vomit would decorate my bedspread. I sank down to my knees, finally letting tears fall. 

I was so angry. Angry at my mum for lying. Angry at my dad for helping her. Angry at this Magnussen character for killing off half of my family. Angry at myself for being so caught off guard by it all. Angry at the world for deciding to cast all it's bad luck on me. 

I stripped down to my t-shirt and undies, then crawled underneath my covers, trying to get lost in the blankets. My dad had stopped knocking 10 minutes ago when he realized I wouldn't respond, and he couldn't force me to. Tears continued to fall down my cheeks, and something my mum used to tell me came to mind. She used to say to never go to bed angry or sad, because when you woke up in the morning you would still be feeling those emotions. 

But how did I know that wasn't a lie too. 

>><<

Immediately I knew my eyes were puffy. I reached a hand up to my face and felt the all too familiar soft skin and I sighed in horror. I detached myself from the mattress, stretching each of my limbs and reaching to massage a sore spot on my back. Shower time. 

I opened my door and peaked out down the hallway. I didn't see my dad, so I darted down to the bathroom, shutting the door and locking it. 

Then I entered heaven. 

Steam poured around me and I lathered my body. I attempted to wash my face and get the puffiness out of my eyes, but I knew they would have to deflate on their own throughout the day. I stepped out of the shower and immediately felt my curls returning. I dried them with the towel, then threw some product in to hold them down for the day. 

After returning to my room and slipping on my favorite pair of sweats and a "The Animals" t-shirt, my stomach began grumbling. "Gotta feed the beast," I muttered to myself. I was purposefully not thinking about anything from last night, and I planned on continuing that trend for the rest of the day. Some mindless tv and movies sounded pretty good to me. And some cereal.

I filled a bowl, and just as I was removing the cap, the dorm to my flat burst open. "JESUS CAAAAAAAHH", I yelled as milk splattered all over the kitchen, and myself. The intruders were none other than the people I did not want to see most today - my dad and Sherlock.

"Oh, honey, we didn't think you'd be up yet. I accidentally forgot my wallet," said dad, grabbing it off the counter. 

"What are you guys doing?" I asked, my words sounding like knives cutting through the air.

"Erm, going to breakfast," answered my dad nervously. 

I glowered at the two of them, anger bubbling under your skin. "Oh well don't let me interrupt you and your best friend date," I snapped, milk dripping off the ceiling and onto my shoulder. 

"It's just a business meeting about Magnussen," said dad, grabbing a towel from the cupboard and grabbing a chair to wipe up the ceiling. He cleaned all around me, and even though I had a milk splattered shirt, I didn't move to change it. I was locked in a stare down with Sherlock Holmes. 

He even looked a little scared if you ask me. 

"Abi, I know you're angry and confused and-"

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm fine. Totally fine. The only thing that's wrong with me is I got a half gallon of milk fermenting on my shirt, but I can fix that."

"Abs-"

I turned around and went to my room, fuming with rage. Who did Sherlock think he was? Being all fake nice and best friends with my dad? Wasn't I the one that was supposed to go to breakfast with my dad, not the curly haired arsehole that lived upstairs and drove me and insane and deduced the shit out of my life and told me that lilac would look bad on me and- I could go on forever.

 I made a mental note to add Sherlock to the list of people I was angry with.

A/N

I'm back.

And I will be back again soon.