𝐈𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐀𝐟𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐬| 𝗋𝗂𝖼𝗄𝗒 𝖻𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗇

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧

( 𝗆𝗒 𝖿𝖺𝗎𝗅𝗍 )

OCTOBER, 2016

MARY MONTEZ ALWAYS KNEW her parents weren't right for one another. Growing up it was always the same arguments, same fighting, same yelling and screaming, it was all so familiar. It's not like it was her fault, but in the back of her head she always wondered if it was.

Maybe she wasn't smart enough, good enough, pretty enough, lovable enough, just enough in general. Her guess was that she needed to be better, look the part of a Montez.

Betty and Christopher Montez were two power houses, long resumes of being popular in high school, going to a good university, meeting each other at work, climbing their way up to the top of the business and eventually settling down and having Mary.

It was something Mary always looked up to. Wanting to be like her parents, so in love but so strong in their individuality. Her mother was her prime example. Bold, strong, secure, everything she ever wanted, till she saw it all come crashing down.

It was 1 am that night, 1 am and they were still screaming their heads off, voices going raw, probably feeling like sandpaper, but they were still going. First it was financial issues, he spent too much money, then it was about morals, how she didn't make enough time for her daughter, how he was a workaholic, then it was about the arguing, how the arguing isn't good for them or Mary, how Mary heard everything and anything the dow had to say to one another, then it was about eachother.

How Christopher left his clothes everywhere and he as a slob, how she was too neat, too clean, too meticulous. How they were too opposite, how they never said I love you anymore, how they didn't love eachother anymore, how Christopher wanted to leave, how Betty didn't care if he left, and then the door slammed and eveything went silent.

Nothing else was heard. After the door slammed and the sound rang, it was dead. The sound of Mary's breathing was all she heard that night. Christopher never came back after that day, at least, never came back until a few weeks later.

Mary was the only one home. The only one to see him pack his stuff, the only one to see him grab a photograph of Mary playing the piano for the first time. The only one to see him look up at the stairs where Mary was standing. "One last hug before I leave?"

Mary didn't respond. She just looked at him, with his arms open for her, with a pleading look on his face, tears welding uo in his eyes as he knew the answer.

Christopher knew his daughter, a little too well. He knew that him walking out and not coming back or answering her texts for a few weeks was going to make her furious with him.

Mary looked at the man who is her father. The one who wasn't supposed to leave. The one who wasn't supposed to make her feel this sad or this angry. "Please, Mary" He begged.

Mary walked away and closed her door before laying on her bed staring at her ceiling. When Mary heard the front door close and the car start, she got up and looked out her window that faced the driveway. She made eye contact with her father before he backed out and drove off.

She never did see him again after that day. That day in October. Fall meant the end of things, the leaves all die and fall to the ground, the coolness starts to begin, nipping at her cheeks and making them red, everything that was once beautiful and alive was now dead, leaves only meant to be stepped on by humans and their feet.