Mommie Dearest is a memoir and exposé written by Christina Crawford, which depicts Christina's childhood and her relationship with her mother.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"Will you be alright by yourself, Stasiya?" Spencer asked, worry evident on his face. They had just arrived and he had turned around and pointed towards the house.
Carla had told him Anastasiya wasn't feeling well and sent her off with someone her daughter trusted, the driver, Spencer. Also casually known as her parents' childhood friend who they had kept in touch with since forever. Despite that, she hadn't spoken once during the drive, and Spencer hadn't tried to say anything either. They had been driving around for hours now, but Spencer knew her like that. Knew she was just feeling sad and knew she would calm down after a drive. All she could do was to stare out of the window, trying to make sense of her thoughts.
Anastasiya rolled her eyes playfully, trying not to be disrespectful. She took her keys from her purse and dangled them in front of the older man. Sometimes she wondered how Spencer was someone who understood her perfectly. He was almost in his fifties, so it was slightly odd. Denise understood her, too, but in a different way. And Delaney . . . that girl was another story entirely.
"It's right there, Spencer. I don't need a babysitter, you know?" She smiled slightly.
Spencer chuckled. "I know that, Anastasiya. I'm just asking because I want you to be alright."
This made her feel a little bit better. Knowing he cared for her and her well-being was reassuring.
"Thank you Spencer," she said with a smile, hoping it would seem genuine.
Spencer always cared for her; she knew that. They didn't see much of each other lately, except when they would be attending hostings and such since Spencer was their designated driver. He had a kind smile, and his family was a delight to be around. Anastasiya had always had a tiny secret crush on his daughter. Not that he needed to know that.
He returned the smile and winked. "Just doing my job."
Anastasiya rolled her eyes again. They both knew extremely well that Anastasiya wasn't like a job to him. He had practically raised her since she was twelve.
After saying her goodbyes, she walked out of the car and watched as the vehicle left her vision. She tried to find the right key to the door and sighed loudly. This day was such a mess.
"Well, that was really tragic."
The voice came from nowhere in the silence and it made Anastasiya jump. It felt like a heart attack. She furrowed her eyes at the disembodied voice.
There was that voice again... that damn voice from the elevator.
She quickly turned around, but saw no one there. It made her fumble with her keys much faster. Struck with panic, she tried to insert one in the keyhole, but it didn't fit. She cursed herself for even having this many keys.
