Project Nox

Chapter II: Erika

The same darkness pressing down on the Blomdal homes was pressing down on another individual, glad to be leaving that region. Tucked in the back seat of her father's sports car, sixteen-year-old Erika Tollefsen had been in worse moods, but that wasn't to say she was doing well at the moment.

"For real, Dad, this isn't much of an outing," she complained, as her father turned around another roundabout onto a street lined with towering office buildings. "I thought we'd be actually going out, not to some stuffy business meeting."

Her father, Lars Tollefsen, glanced at her in the rearview mirror. He and Erika were almost carbon copies of one another. They had each others' chocolate brown hair, crystal blue eyes, small face and wide eyes that would make them appear surprised at any given time. They also both had the coincidental look of innocence plastered on their expression by nature, which oftentimes forced people to excuse either of them from any wrongdoing whatever they might do. This look had come in particularly useful when Erika had gotten into mischief as a child. It was impossible to blame those wide eyes and that innocent expression.

"I never promised a social gathering," he replied in a clipped tone. "You knew all along, miss. Don't complain now."

Erika sniffed in annoyance. "But I did think there might be someone my own age there," she said with a disdainful glance at the gala invitation beside her, sitting on the brown leather of the back seats.

"There might be," encouraged her father, but he was paying more attention to the road than to her.

She sighed and flattened the wrinkles in her dress, much more elegant than she preferred. It would be okay without the folds and bunched arms. She looked like she was wearing water wings under the sleeves.

"Why do I have to wear this thing?" she muttered.

Her father looked in the mirror again. "Because it's a formal dinner for the company," he said flatly. "You know the drill. They need to meet the family if I'm to be accepted. We could be out of this hellhole of a city if I am able to acquire this role, Ricky."

Erika rolled her eyes, at his words and at the nickname. "I don't want to leave. I like it here."

Lars sighed. "It's not safe anywhere in this city, Ricky," he reasoned.

"At least it's familiar," she shot back. "You know where to go and not to go."

Lars Tollefsen shook his head, which oddly enough caused him to swerve slightly, almost hitting a woman walking a dog, who yelped and shook her fist at the passing car.

"Erika, that's not the point," he reasoned. "I'm trying to provide a safe home for you, your mother and your siblings. That's all I'm trying to do."

She glared at the rearview mirror. "Providing a safe home and providing a real home are two different things."

Her father sighed again. "Ricky, I'm not talking about this now. Please just, like, finish the make-up or whatever you're doing. We'll be there in a moment." He cut his words and returned his focus to the road, which was poorly lit in this part of the city.

"Akrehamn," he muttered. "Why in Akrehamn?"

"Probably because they knew you hated it," Erika muttered, too quiet for him to hear. She grabbed a brush from the box lying beside her, ran it through her long hair again, and threw it across the back seat. It went through the window, shattering the glass and vanishing into the night. Her father jumped, and shot a glance at her in the mirror.

"Erika Tollefsen, did you have to do that?" he exclaimed. "Now I'll have to get that replaced!"

"Sorry," muttered Erika, but she didn't feel it. Her father had enough money to replace a thousand broken windows. It was the necessity to take it to the garage that bothered him.