Immoral Innocence {H.S}

"Thats my job babydoll." 6.

I didn't feel so compelled to write a reply, seeing as Alisha was just a social experiment to me- plus her letter gave me nothing but heart pains to know that Damien and Mr ArrowSmith were both upset during my absents- although the pair were both my social toys also. I missed Mr ArrowSmith. He was the only person, besides father, who truly cared about me.

So I just laid there, mourning my earlier confrontation with Harry and his friends. Also worrying about my mother blabbing to my father about the incident that occurred with Damien in the other house- which she tragically walked in on. Still, I dreaded the day she'd slip it to my father.

"Louisa, dinner." My mother cooed from downstairs. I had to unravel myself from my cocoon of grey satin sheets before I could stand. Then I trekked downstairs, prepared for the disaster that was dinner.

"Louisa, lovely for you to finally come down." My mother said, subtly sarcastic as I pulled out a chair closer to my father then mother.

"Yeah, well had to come down here to see how much my portion size has shrunk today." I said eyeing my table spoon of sweet potato mash and two broccoli clusters.

"Well, I don't want my sweet Louisa to be a little fatty again." She grinned over to me while mine and my fathers face stayed emotionless, none of us even bothered to test her.

"Louisa, I think you look gorgeous." Father reassured me, knowing my confidence was at an all time low with my mother around. His hand slid over to mine while he clasped it tightly- entangling his fingers with my own.

"Thanks paps." I smiled.

"Louisa, you call him father, not 'Paps'. I don't know what kind of relationship you think you have with him." My mother sulked from the foot of the long oak table. Luckily, I was twelve seats away from her bullshit, I could easily ignore it by staying in an uncomfortable state of censorship to make her feel bad.

"How was your day at work paps?" I asked as a whisper over to my father who was looking at our entwined fingers.

"Sensational, learning to love every minute I have in front of my little typewriter." He grinned, obvious satisfaction with his new job.

"What about you Sandra, do anything worthwhile today?" I asked sarcastically, hoping she gathered the joke and didn't answer. She did nothing apart from lounge around and have fancy parties.

"I payed Rueben and Angelica a visit. They wanted to welcome us back but neither of you were around. They said they'd pop over tomorrow possibly." She said, prodding at her orange mash. "So who were the letters from?" She asks, poking her nine inch nose in where it obviously wasn't needed.

"Alisha and FootLoop Ballet Academy." I said quietly. "Not that it's any of your business." I added.

"What was it about then sugarplum?" She grinned.

"Rejection letter. No dance for me." I grinned, purposefully- just to teach her a lesson for forcing a sport down my throat.

"Well you can always continue netball next season." She smiled weakly. "What about Alisha?"

"Nothing to do with you Sandra." I snapped.

"Mr ArrowSmith 'loosing his chill'?" She asked.

"You little bitch." I said slowly- gradually pulling myself out of my seat.

"Don't talk about it Sandra, it's a touchè area!" Father said, standing with me to tower over mother in mutual fierceness.

"Dennis, you stay in your lane!" Mother said, standing to our level.

"What kind of mother do you think you are?" My father was breaking at the seams, I could see an angry gloss in his eye. He wasn't far from loosing his shit.

"Um excuse me Dennis, I think you'll find that I only do what's best for Louisa. I want her to be happy with herself."

"By trying to make her someone she's not! She has a beautiful soul, that's all that really matters right? Especially to her parents! She's beautiful on the outside too- that's just a bonus. Let her make her own mistake- like she did at school- then let her recover from them on her own. She's only human, just like you, just like me. But she's the best possible human I could have asked for as my child." My dad began to walk out of the dinning room- his dinner barely touched while mother stood there speechless. I followed- showing mother my middle finger while lacing my fingers with my fathers.

"Sandra that colour, seriously? Yuck. You look like a fat whale in blue. Also your hair looks so artificial, go get it checked out, it looks so dry. You've got wrinkles too. Your feet are too big, maybe you should get an operation. And your nose, ew, bigger then Penelope Cruz's. Seriously, ugly fucker, get a boob job." I tutted, stopping in my tracks before continuing to the lounge with my father- subtle proudness plastered on his face.

"Takes a lot of balls to stand up to the witch." Father said, slouching onto the red leather sofa.

"Which is why I'm so proud of you father." I grinned.

We stayed downstairs together for a while- huddling into a warm embrace for part of the time, never wanting it to be disturbed.

I coughed and our huddle came to a tragic end. I thanked father for being so loyal and sticking by my side threw all of my hissy fits- to which he replied with a simple "that's my job baby doll."

I stomped upstairs ignoring my mothers over dramatic weeping from the kitchen. Without hesitation, my blinds were drawn and I was looking forward to next door, where Harry was sitting alone on his bed with a notepad on his arms. Every so often he'd look over the wad of paper and decide it wasn't good enough, then he'd crumble the paper and toss it onto the floor beside him.

I watched for hours, he scrawled random words and patterns onto his paper, sometimes looking overly proud and approving and other times looking completely lost. Without any realisation, I sat there so absentmindedly for so long, just watching him like a hawk with every fibre of my being. All my brain could tell me was that he actually spoke to me. Like I was piecing together the life we'd share bit by bit, it just happened that our love story had to begin shitty- was all I could tell myself.

He opened up his windows, while I tried looking as innocent as possible- grabbing the nearest book and pushing my face into it. Harry was unfazed as he continued on his writing, only for me to fall dangerously asleep with the windows wide open.