So Extra

Chapter 2: That Person...

My life was over. Like for real, I had nothing left. I was a complete loser. My reality show--cancelled. It was like when Honey Boo Boo's mom started dating that pedo, except worse because my dad was now that pedo... I mean, Oren had turned eighteen two weeks before, but according to TMZ the relationship had been going for quite some time. That time amounting to months and months of secret love meetings. The paparazzi had been on my back for the last week, following me everywhere I go, and harassing me about what I thought about the whole thing. To make matters so much worse, my father, the prick who did this to me, left the country not even a day after, with Oren in toe. Though I was becoming a social pariah it could have been worse. I mean my mom had a nervous breakdown and went catatonic. Like totally loony. She couldn't even speak. She only mumbled and her manager ended up admitting her to the mental ward at UCLA. Talk about embarrassing.

A week of pure hell. That's what I had been going through. And it was only getting worse... Especially when "that person" wound up on our doorstep.

My father's manager—who managed our whole family—walked into the living room where I'd been cooped up for the last two days. I'd been too scared and tired to show my face anymore. He gave me a sad smile. I didn't need his pity, not that I thought it was legit pity. To be honest, he hated our family, but the pay was more than he'd make with that Humanities Degree.

"You have a visitor," he said.

I didn't bother getting up, or even attempting to make myself presentable. I didn't care anymore, not with everything that was going on. I just glared at him and waited for him to get out of my face.

He gulped. Though he was good at his job, he was a wuss, and I didn't give two shits about how he would feel.

I felt empty and alone. I was starting to believe I had nothing to live for. I felt like crap and I knew I looked like it, too.

"You look like crap," a voice I hadn't heard for years said.

I ignored "that person" and continued to eat the carton of ice cream that I'd been sobbing into.

"You look like you're about to pull a full Britney and shave your head."

"I don't get your early two-thousand reference." I stated even though I obviously did. I just wanted her to acknowledge our vast difference.

"You look pathetic."

"I am pathetic." I sniffed.

"What is this song?" she asked.

I just glared at her. She looked just like me, well, almost, except she had dark brown hair which was her natural color... I was different. Everyone thought and I had my own mother's natural blonde locks. They were natural. That was my story and I'd been sticking to it since I was ten years old. Sure, there was a lot of commotion how a black haired child with skin as pale as Snow White's could become naturally tanned and golden blonde over night. My only response was I grew into it. Just like my mother grew into her boobs. Other than that, this person and I were both lean and tall, with the same eyes as our father.

"It's called Gasoline and it's by Halsey. It's this weeks theme."

"And what is it normally? Barbie Girl by Aqua?"

"Ugh, another nineties reference. You really don't know the youth today."

"This song sounds depressing for no reason."

"Yes but listen to the lyrics," I took the remote from beside me and replayed the song and as it played I spoke. "I'm insane, in pain, and bought a hundred dollar bottle of champagne."