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YOU MET MIKE WATERS in the oddest way ever yet it seemed everything was odd when it came to Mike. But you learned quickly to grown and appreciate his eccentric quirks, along with the melancholy aura around him. Mike would be someone you considered as a best friend, which seemed so bizarre to say.
Best friend. You really didn't have much of those, let alone friends in general. Sometimes, you wanna roll your eyes at how cliche your life became. First, you lived with your mother for most of your childhood. It was just you and her, and she was an outstanding single mother. But not even you could had avoided tragedy, and it felt like the longest months of your life.
Your mother had passed away, peacefully as her terminal illness could allow her. But before she went away in her slumber, she told you undisclosed information—your father.
It was the last night you saw your mother when she had mentioned how much your life was going to drastically change, for better or worst—you didn't know.
"Your father will take you in." Your mother reveals, her frail hand tightly squeezing yours.
You blinked a few times, taking in the information before a starling wave of shock hits you.
"My father? That deadbeat ass?" You exclaimed, feeing both flabbergasted and irritated. The man deliberately chose not to be in your life and suddenly he wants in now that your mother is dying?
"Sweetheart, you have to understand that this has to be done. You have no one else." You mother explains, feeling remorse to leave you behind.
You remembered her statement clearly, and it had terrified you. The idea of having no one else was so horrifying, and you couldn't bare the idea of being alone. And yet, the next day, you were just that—alone.
Truthfully, you didn't know much about your own father, other than he managed to pay child support for the last 17 years of your life. But you didn't know who he was as a person, where he had lived all your life, or what his favorite color was. Despite not knowing him, you were shipped off to Portland, to live with him.
Your father, Richard Wilson, wasn't a bad man or a bad father as you learned. He was barely present in the large mansion, so could you even call him a father? You referred him by his surname, which left him more than uncomfortable at moments. But you had to learn, or at least try, to accept the vast and cold mansion as your home.
He was a social elite, the full packaged, and it made you wonder, how did mother end up with him? He graduated Harvard, was fed with a silver spoon in his mouth, and now was expecting you to fulfill the same expectations his parents had on him. But compared to him? You're basically a street rat!
