traumatized minds, luke hemmings

brian delaware.

► And you don't really read into my melancholia.

[ Charlie Abbot,
September 6th, 3:24 PM ]

"I'm going to fucking kill the guy." Oliver said, closing the passenger side door. "Did you get his business card?"

I nodded my head with my knees to my chest. "Yep."

"And you recorded everything, right?" He asked as he entered his driver's side.

"Yep." I nodded.

"Good job." He smiled. "That's my girl."

I smiled back at him as the events of 20 minutes before replayed in my head. The awful 10 minutes of the conversation I had with Brian Delaware.

My mouth nearly fell open after his answer came from his mouth. I looked at him, absolutely gobsmacked, and shook my head. "Are you fucking insane?"

He shook his head too, and a smug smirk went across his face. "You heard me, little girl," His hands flew to his jeans and mine flew to my eyes. "Come 'ere, and blow this popsicle."

This guy must be mad.

I thought for a moment, and looked down at my phone in my lap. I immediately pressed the voice memo app and started recording, all unbeknownst to the man in front of me.

I looked over at the set of business cards in the tray, and saw a name. Brian Delaware. I swallowed my nerves. "I'm 16."

"Age is just a number." He shrugged.

"And prison is just a place." I narrowed my eyes and stood. "What are you? 50? I'm sorry, pedophile, but you're getting nothin' out of me."

He stood and I realized how tall he was, making me shake. "Oh, sweetheart, I can make you do anything I want."

Oliver taped my shoulder which caused me to jump and instantly pulled his hand back from my response. I looked up to see McDonalds in front of us.

"Figured you could use some food."

I was absolutely thankful that my dad bought me food. I scarfed the fries and cheeseburger down as fast as I could, and even ordered some more.

It was then that I realized I hadn't eaten since yesterday night. My dad was alarmed by this and offered to drive me home.

I wasn't supposed to show him where I lived now, but how else was I supposed to get home?

"Yeah." I nodded to his question.

When we arrived at my sketchy apartment area, he parked his car and I noticed how he double checked that it was locked. He kept his hand on my back as we arrived at the door.

"Well I should be—"

Before I could answer, my dad knocked– causing my heart to fall to my ass.

Vincent opened the door with a smile on his face that quickly fell at the sight of his brother in the flesh. He grabbed my wrist and attempted to pull me inside, but Oliver stopped him.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Oliver snarled.

"She's my niece."

"She's my daughter," He counter argued. "Who nearly scarfed down my food earlier. So, I'm here to check she's getting fucking fed."

Vincent crossed his arms. "You're not welcome inside."

"Oh," My dad grabbed his phone from his pocket. "How would your parole officer react about the weed I see in the corner?"

Vincent rolled his eyes and stepped aside. "Fine. Come in, Oliver."

My dad walked in after me and went straight to the kitchen.

He looked everywhere. The fridge, the cabinets, the oven, our pantry, even under the sink and in the end— he had a conflicted look on his face.

"Charlotte," I winced at my full name, "You do not have enough food here, love."

I shrugged. "I can manage."

"I'll bring food over tomorrow, okay?" He sent a confirming smile to me and I agreed. I rushed him away from our apartment, knowing he had his own family at home.

When I turned around after closing the front door, I was bombarded by questions.

"Charlie Adelaide Abbot. What the fuck were you thinking?"