The Importance of Becoming a Narcissist

Chapter Two

Leo Zachary(POV)

Today had been a good day. For once, I actually got what I wanted. Not gonna lie. I was a bit...proud in class, but I wasn't going to apologize for it. For the first time probably ever, I was directing a play instead of acting in it. It was a nice change, being the brains of an operation instead of just a small puzzle piece.

I scrubbed away the fog on the bathroom mirror and stared back at the rare, unperturbed expression. It was quickly replaced by a thoughtful frown.

On second thought, today had mostly been a good day. This morning before I drove to school I had caught my father and his wife doing things---forbidden things--in the living room.

Our house had a total of thirteen rooms, three bathrooms, a garage and basement and they chose to do their business in the living room! My little sister was home and everything. Was nothing sacred to that man?

I swear I had never felt so disgusted in my life. When two middle-aged adults felt the urge to screw each other every second of the day like a couple of primitive Neanderthals, something was seriously wrong. Even I had more self-control than that and I was a hormonal seventeen year-old.

And no, I never bothered to tell him about the play when I came home after school--not that I could face him without wanting to vomit in his face. Quite frankly I didn't care what he thought about my accomplishments because, quite frankly, I didn't care about him. I just knew that I wanted to avoid even being in the same room with him every chance I got--especially since she and her weirdo daughter had moved in a few months back and it seemed as if no matter where I went in that godddamn house I was being provoked.

I just couldn't convince myself that I would be able to stop myself if I got the urge to say something that would get me grounded---whatever that meant. I'd never actually gotten grounded but that was the word my dad always used when he wanted people to take him seriously. Usually he'd end up taking away my car---which just plain sucked.

That was exactly what had happened when I oh-so-brilliantly mouthed off to him about his lack of general decency and, well, everything else. Once I got going, I couldn't stop. I went after her too and told her exactly what I'd been wanting to tell her for while now.

I referred to my father's wife as "her" or "she" partly because it was difficult for me to remember her name, and partly because I didn't actually care.

At the time, I had been so angry that I couldn't even remember exactly what I called her, although I believed it was along the lines of "cheap, non-self-respecting, dirty ex-whore".

My father's punishment wasn't going to stop me from going out on a Friday night--which he would soon find out once returned home from wherever the hell he was and saw that I was gone--but it sure made things a whole lot harder. Tonight, for instance, I had to depend on my best friend Mason for a ride to a party, who sure as hell was taking his sweet time getting here.

It had literally been ages since I'd texted him and since then I'd waiting here at home, alone, with nothing to do but kill time. Knowing him, he'd probably ditch me for a night out with his girlfriend--like the whipped loser he was--and I'd be forced to kick his ass.

Which I really didn't wanna do, mostly because he'd probably just kick my ass forreal.

As a result of that whole fiasco I'd caused with father, I ended up going to school with a huge headache--and I had to take the bus. And as if that hadn't been enough, I also had a tiny, yet inevitable confrontation with no other than Little-Miss-No-Life in drama class. I rolled my eyes, irritated by the mere memory of it.