Trust Issues

Prologue

I'm Clarissa Jamie O'Leary, a 21-year-old college dropout, living in a small New York apartment with my sister, just barely scraping by. However, it wasn't always like this. Majority of my life consisted of lavish luxury and more money than one could know what to do with. I lived with my mother, father, and younger sister Catherine, in a large expensive home in Palm Beach, Florida.

My mother, Genevieve O'Leary, an ex-pageant queen who was always striving for perfection, even in her own daughters. My father, Robert Jon O'Leary a severely unstable alcoholic who never took interest in anyone but himself. Catherine, my sweet, caring, and loving sister who gave everything and everyone her all. She wanted to pursue a music career our parents never approved of. An impressionable 16-year-old now trying to finish high school while suffering from severe depression. And me, the first born who was given everything and anything she wanted. I was sporty, had many goals in life, and a great student (won many academic awards as per request of my mother who feared being frowned upon.) Forced to go to a college to study business so I could take over my father's business, which I wanted nothing to do with.

My parents had no interest in learning about Catherine's or mine's interests. Catherine wanting to pursue music would mean mother losing prestige as Catherine was also top of her class in high school. She was a shoo-in for valedictorian and acceptances into big fancy colleges. She wanted none of it. I wanted to pursue, truly, anything other than business, but that was not an option. What looked like your perfect cookie cutter family portrait was actually tainted with sadness, abuse, and too many imperfections to count on one hand. What lacked the most...love.

Catherine and I are not quite in an ideal living situation in New York at the moment, but we are together nonetheless. Supporting and loving each other has always been a strong theme in our lives when dealing with an abusive father and a practically absent mother. When the hands of our father became too heavy to bear, we knew it was time to escape. The night we decided to leave, we waited for both our parents to go to sleep. Hours and hours ticking by, but no sign of father. Bags packed and ready to leave... the front door slams shut. The audible slurs in our father's voice while angrily talking to himself on his way upstairs. Us clenching onto each other praying he would not come into the room, and like clockwork, the door to my  room swings open.

Unbearable silence as we watched intently at our father's dizzy eyes switching between us and the suitcases. What seemed to be like a whole 5 minutes later of pure fear and hearts pounding loudly, he practically dove at us. Swinging his hard fist straight into Catherine's face. I have always been a strong headed person who would do anything at any cost for the people I love. With that being said, it took me no time to swing back at him and push him away from Catherine. In his intoxicated state, it was not difficult to knock the 6 foot man to the ground, even for my merely 5 foot 3 self. I did not realize how strong my hit really was, until I took a minute to look at father on the ground and see blood spilling out of his nose. We took the opportunity to grab our bags and run. My friend Jacob was waiting outside in his run down Toyota Camry to take us away from this predicament. We had agreed previously that Jacob would drive Catherine and I to the bus station, and we had our one way tickets to New York ready. I had already found an apartment for us to rent while we figured out what happens next. I had also already signed the papers to confirm that I would no longer be attending college. Since the year was halfway through, the tuition money (that my parents paid) for second term was given to me.

Those $7000 would fund the fresh start in New York City for Catherine and I.