Her Abyss | Completed

One

I was very specific.

Don't move to California the summer before I leave for college. Don't invest in a company that has no sympathy for the sensitivities of nature. Don't and I emphasize for dramatic yet crucial effect, let mom go again.

My mother was complex. Her business trips were always consistent when there was tension in the household and I was beyond tired with it.

Because of these business trips, Mom liked to pretend. She pretended that she was single and kid-free and that her wedding ring didn't exist. Dad never said a word about it when she returned.

She was still young and having me at seventeen didn't help our relationship. My subconscious was highly aware that she only came back when she was tired of pretending or out of money but I personally liked to pretend that she genuinely missed me.

I was her spitting image.

Short, of course, my small petite frame proved to be a positive thing when I took up running as a hobby. My morning runs were very efficient and I almost wanted to thank her for the gift of a small frame.

If I didn't hate her, maybe I'd love myself more.

Because my Mom was beautiful and not the average blonde on the cover of a magazine. She had dark hair that fell down to her waist and freckles lightly splattered over her smooth clear skin. On top of that, her lips were flawlessly shaped, not too thin and not too full and I was her spitting image.

We had light eyes that made people look twice and got compliments regularly. Often when we were out together, ironically this wasn't too often, people accused us of being siblings. At first, it was annoying but after looking in the mirror, the only person to be upset with was me.

I didn't want to be beautiful if it meant I resembled my mother and I planned on getting plastic surgery as soon as my career took off.

My father would disapprove so it was one of the only things I kept from him. He was getting older and these days I questioned the decisions he made a lot more.

"C'mon 'Toria, isn't this view everything?" My father gestured for me to join him in the empty space near the double patio doors. Nonchalantly I did, but only whilst folding my arms with annoyance.

He was right. The view was amazing. The sun was burning with flames of dark orange and a heavy pink. It was almost pretty enough to make my dense exterior less, dense.

"Wow Dad, that almost makes up for moving halfway across the world just to ruin a rainforest. Maybe next time we can ruin a larger oxygen source like the Amazon!" I faked enthusiasm while he ignored me. He knew our visions didn't align and that I would never support his idea to build on natural grounds.

And with that, I slipped on my vans and headed towards that burning ball of gas.

Dad cupped his hands around his mouth and hollered, "Be back by eight. We're eating at that taco truck down the street."

I rolled my eyes and fought back a smile. It was our thing, excluding my mom and heading to random food trucks wherever we went. We ordered everything on their menu and took pictures in front of the sign that was usually handmade. Over the years we had become the taco truck experts, a title in which I was proud of.

As the sand got softer I fought the urge to slip off my shoes and feel the smoothness against my bare skin.

I didn't care for California very much. It was too laid back and go-with-the-flow-like. Because I belonged in New York pursuing my long term career in music and carrying my cello against my back.

I spent five hours a day practicing, an hour and a half drilling scales alone. The time I spent pouring my soul out only confirmed my hopes of becoming a professional musician one day. That and the raw talent I had for the instrument made me into the asshole that I was today.

I reached down and caressed the smooth grains between my palms. The sand was warm on the surface but as I buried my fingertips into the richness it became very cool and refreshing.

It was also refreshing how the only noise came from a distant party down the coast and the loud waves tumbling into the shore. The waves appeared to be rich in volume and almost completely covered the sound of a party in the distance.

Then I remembered the parties I threw in New York and how Daniel and I almost ended up together. But that was before California and before Juilliard. It was also before I caught my mother in her lies.

Her cheating was always known but the day I caught her really changed things. Unfortunately for her, she wasn't very smart on the internet. Her fake accounts in which men were constantly commenting on gave me the chills. She was smart enough to have them on private but not smart enough to not accept random requests. Especially when the profile picture was an attractive man in his late twenties.

The account I made took only moments to perfect. Profile picture, two posts, and very very bad captions that pained me to type. Mom accepted it immediately and that was her second mistake. Her first mistake was cheating on my father because he was a good man and a good provider for his family. He did his best to keep us happy in the best way he knew how. For me, it was the quality time we spent together discussing topics of serious importance.

For my mother, it was an endless supply of unwavering fund and every time she asked, he complied willingly. No questions. No hesitation.

I'd decided early on that I wouldn't be like my father. I'd find someone who was worth my time and genuinely attracted to who I was as a person. Hell, maybe we'd do long distance for years just to test our passion for each other.

Never in a million years would I have imagined myself falling so desperately as my father did. And never would I have expected it to be with someone so painfully beautiful.