Stage Lights || H.S.

the family breakfast

The light came into my old room through the thin pace curtains. Outside the sun was shinning bright and I could hear the tweet of the birds, something that was rarely there when I woke up in Downtown Los Angeles. Something that I hadn't heard in a while.

I rubbed my eyes before opening them, and stretched my body on the bed. The white duvet and the soft pillows smelled like fresh laundry. The room was still the same way I left it, the walls were baby pink infantile, the light brown teddy bear with a bow on its neck stared at me from the top of the white dresser, the books pilled up on my desk.

I threw my legs off the bed and slowly touched the wooden floor. It felt different after over a little a month of stepping into carpets at different hotel rooms around the country.

Home. I didn't know the last time I stood in that room. Maybe over two years since I had spent the night in my parent's house. I grew up in those four walls, boxed, expected to be someone I wasn't sure if I wanted to be. That definitely did not feel like home.

God. I wasn't even sure if I ever felt at home.

I walked over to the desk taking in the details. Romeo and Juliet was on top of the pile followed up by A Midsummer Night's Dream, Macbeth, Catcher In The Rye and The Great Gatsby.

"Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, and therefore is winged Cupid painted blind." I whispered to myself.

Next to the books was a single rose. It was dead, of course, but he memory burning alive in the back of my mind. My first ballet recital. Renee didn't show up and my dad was in England so my nanny came, Rose, bringing a single baby pink rose to congratulate me. I was heart broken. That rose was just like me; I felt dead on the inside.

I pushed the memories to the back of my head as I got ready to go downstairs. A baby pink light summer dress covering my body, the spaghetti straps hugged my body shoulder, almost naked and in full view from the ponytail my hair was pulled into.

The thought of seeing Renee and Will made my way downstairs slower that it should've been. Every step I took down the staircase a new reason why I should just run away popped up in my head. Coward, another voice screamed to me, like an anger and a devil floating on each ear.

Last time I saw my father was at a Stevie Jones concert before I left. In the back of the crowd he nodded at me, across the room I slightly waved my fingers and put a smile on my face. We didn't hug, we didn't talk, and I don't think neither of us wanted to. He was much easy to deal with than my mother, he knew how to give me my space, he knew to not try and tame me. I moved across the first floor of the house quickly, just wishing he'd be there to support me.

He was.

I slid the glass door open to find a perfectly put table by the grass outside in the backyard. Both of them sitting across from each other and moved their heads up towards me with the sound of someone coming out. Both looked confused and sad, so I smiled and quietly sat down on the empty chair.

On the table in front of us was a great variety of food. I picked some watermelon and grapes to my plate, a toast and then looked up to find both still looking down at me.

"Are either of you gonna say anything or just keep looking like you just saw a ghost?" I said calmly.

"What happened to your arm?" Will coughed at Renee's choice of question.

I looked down at my pale skin to find a couple of purplish bruises on its surface. The thought of Taylor holding my arms up tight as she pressed her body against mine and out lips hungrily battled with each, in Seattle, the drugs that took over my body and made me fall in New York City, and the rowdy crowd of a underground band in Chicago other made me shrug. 

"Did anyone hurt you?" She insisted.

"No.  Nobody hurt me." I grabbed the butter with a knife and started spreading it on my toast.

"Did-"

"Renee." My dad quickly said, holding her shaky hand over the white expensive table cloth. "How had you been, honey?" I shrug again.

Truth is, I wasn't sure if they wanted to actually hear what I had to answer. They wanted a "I'm fine" to come out of my mouth, but I wasn't going to lie.

"We were worried about-"

"Were you really? Because last time I checked I'm twenty one and can take care of myself."

"You're still my daughter."

"Grow up, Renee."

"Luna." My father's voice was deep, an apology almost slipped my lips. Almost.

"Have you been eating well?"

"Yeah. I've been eating well." I laughed. "Is that what you wanted to hear? That I've been eating well?" Renee nodded.

"Since you're back, I talked to Richard and he rescheduled that Teen Vogue shoot you didn't show up to last month for the day after tomorrow."

"Okay." I looked down at my plate and popped a grape on my mouth.

"Your body looks great. Have you lost any weight?"

"Drugs make you do that." I could feel my father's hand fall on the table and my mother hold her breath.

"Renee..."

"No, William! This..." She waved at me with her hand. "...Is our daughter." Her blue eyes bored onto me. "You're twenty one, you need to grow up. You can't live life like this." I laughed. "It's not a fucking joke, Luna!"

"Oh she curses!" The sarcasm left my mouth.

"I won't allow this happen anymore." Her voice was raised, she was almost yelling.

"What are you gonna do? Ground me?" I answered in the same tone and rolled my eyes. "I'm not the perfect daughter. I'm not Amy. So what?"

"You don't see Amy going around and doing drugs and coming back home looking like this."

"You wanna know where I got these bruises?" Both of their eyes stared at me, almost emotionless. "Wild sex with a girl from a rock band in Seattle two days ago."

As soon as those words left my mouth her hand touched my cheek. I felt my skin burning, it probably turned bright red. And with that she left and made her way into the house. My dad's eyes glanced over at me one more time before looking down at his plate of food.

"You're gonna drive her insane, Luna. Can't you just calm down for a minute?"

"She just hit me, dad." I pushed the plate away. "It's not like I was hoping you'd stand up for me anyway."

"I'm so sorry, kiddo." He reached for my hand, squeezing it.