MODERN-DAY TRAGEDY

III. DADDY'S GIRL

"and heaven knows i'm miserable now."

                    HER EYELIDS CLOSED GENTLY, her lashes falling onto her skin as her lips parted softly. She could still hear the reminisce of upbeat melody from earlier that day playing in her mind. Ba dum dum ba dum dum. There was a sudden and rapid knock on her apartment door that jolted her awake.

"Definitely Kaia," she mumbles, not moving a ligament of her body. And in a few moments, she could hear the front door loudly opening, closing firmly behind an infamous head of raven hair.

"Did you forget that I gave you a spare?" Devon asked sarcastically, lazily pointing her feet at Kaia in a humorous accusation. The raven-haired girl simply grinned and plopped down on the velvet green couch in a dramatic sigh.

On the outside, it may seem like Kaia LeClair was everything Devon wasn't. Her Californian lingering tan was in stark contrast to Kaia's pale complexion. But even despite their physical differences, they housed the same broken and yearning soul.

"Please, I only knocked because I was afraid of seeing you mid-fuck with some mediocre guy balls deep." Kaia said seriously as Devon squinted at her, narrowing her eyes before they both burst into giggles.

"Kidding," Kaia said with a cheeky smile, pretending to wipe her eyes.

"The likelihood of that is probably slimmer than not seeing you on the tabloids walking out with a new guy - or girl - from the club. Must have made Daddy so proud."

"Depends on who you call Daddy," Kaia smirks, "Sue me for loving sex."

The notorious reckless party-girl reputation that surrounds Kaia LeClair was the only thing that the public knew about the girl. The tabloids never bothered to dig into Carter LeClair, the wealthy businessman and loving father. It didn't matter, because they would only find nothing.

Emotional wounds don't leave visible scars. They would never know about the times her father controlled so much it felt like she couldn't breathe without permission. He rarely ever laid a hand on Kaia, but on occasional lonely nights, she could remember the exact moment when her stomach would drop and she would slowly back away from her enraged father, watching as his eyes narrowed sharply and his eyes lossed control.

They would never see the emotional wounds he left on his daughter. And even on his wife, who, sadly, was still and always will be madly in-love with a man she never truly knew. Carter would never know of the times his daughter laid in the lukewarm bathtub with pills scattered around her. Or of the times she found sanction in liquor, with a faint white trail on the tips of her nose.

The girl fell in love with every man and woman, though mistaking them for love. She could never keep them for very long, eventually plagued by fear and paranoia of infidelity until one night when she simply decided to lose herself in the different nameless people each night.

And as for the young raven-haired girl who used to stay awake at night thinking of why she was never good enough, never worthy enough to be loved by the one man who was supposed to do just that, well, the girl grew up to find other substitutes to fill the rotting void.

And Devon was one of the few if not only people to know about the reasons behind the seemingly notorious reputation that is Kaia LeClair.

"Do you ever wonder what it would be like if we weren't so fucked up," Kaia says absentmindedly.

"God, it sucks doesn't it. I can't even watch reality shows without wanting to scream at them for complaining about their Beverly Hills lives. Like 'Oh you think your life is shitty?'" Devon groans, the alcohol slurring her words.