Plexiglass (On Hold)

Prologue

The car was filled with eerie silence as its wheels speed across the highway. Neither girl nor woman would speak -could speak- for fear of a possible emotional breakdown, because when the streets of New York are filled with drivers crazier than escaped insane asylum patients it's better for one to keep their eyes on the road rather than filling them with potential tears.

The woman shook her head over and over again while holding the wheel in a killer grip, trying to suppress her emotions. This didn't stop until the car was parked in front of a shabby apartment in a shady neighborhood.

The girl clutched onto the bag of ice above her waist and winced as she hobbled to the doorstep - refusing help from the woman when she reached for her small hand.

Though the walk was short, it was far from sweet.

The moment the pair walked through the door they were hit with an aroma unfamiliar to the young one. Like a bloodhound, the girl's nose led her to the kitchen where she was immediately manhandled by yet another woman. This woman, dressed in a fancy suit and a dingy apron, retreated quickly after the girl screeched in pain.

"Who did this to you?" The second woman demanded.

"People." The little girl said simply as she stood on her tippy toes and glanced at the contents of the pot.

It was filled with vegetables. Yay.

The women sighed in unison, "What kind of people?"

"The kind with hands," she analyzed the rest of the kitchen looking for her meal, "and feet."

"I'm going to need you to be more specific." The second woman said standing up straight.

It seems as if they expect me to eat this rabbit food. The girl thought before replying, "Auntie, just let it go, please?"

"Let it go? I will not-" The Aunt's voice started to rise but the other woman, who up until now had stayed quiet, interrupted.

"Sandra..." The woman's voice sounded like a warning.

The aunt, Sandra, closed her dark brown eyes and ran her hand through the black strands of hair barely touching her shoulders and her demeanor gradually lost its stiffness.

"Phoebe," Sandra started, opening her eyes.

The girl immediately stopped making faces at the pot and gave her attention to her aunt, "Yes?"

"Turn off the stove and go ahead and eat dinner. Your mother and I need to talk."

Phoebe smiled and nodded as the two women began to make their way out of the kitchen and into the family room.

"After you, Melanie." Sandra said with the hostility that Phoebe chose to ignore.

When they were finally gone Phoebe's smile turned into a mischievous smirk.

She quickly turned off the stove with a simple flick and took the pot off of the hot burner. Instead of diving into a vegetarian's meal, she snatched an unopened family size bag of Lays Potato Chips from the cabinet and noisily made her way upstairs but, this time, instead of going to her room, she waited for her two mother-figures' voices to become inevitably louder.

Finally, ten minutes later and a quarter of a way into the bag of Lays, the voices started to rise.

"No, no, no!" a voice all but yelled.

The voices of the two women were quite similar - a little too similar for Phoebe's liking.

"She stays here! Her life is here!" the same voice said clearly trying to stay calm. That was clearly Mother, Phoebe thought over a crispy chip.

"And tell me: what kind of life is she living?!"

As quickly as the silence came, it was gone yet again.

"She's my - " then the aunt said something quietly while Phoebe popped in yet another salty treat. The word, obviously important, was too hushed to understand. So, the young girl just shrugged it off and continued to listen,

"and I'll bet this isn't the first time this has happened."

Phoebe shook her head. No, it hadn't been the first time.

As if answered by the silence, Sandra continued with a softer tone, "She'd be better off with me. You don't know how to take care of her anymore."

"How dare you-"

"Ever since he left you haven't been the same. You've been working more, spending less time with her, and clearly not watching what she's eating."

Phoebe stopped eating mid-chew.

"Sandra!"

"What?! We both know that's why she's being bullied!"

At this Phoebe slumped her shoulders and shoved a handful of chips into her mouth. Auntie wasn't wrong. About ten times a day someone would jab at her weight. Most of the time they are verbal but, more recently, the jabs have become more literal.

There was a loud thud as a fist connected with a wall.

"I guess...I guess you're right." Melanie said with an exasperated sigh.

"Of course I am."

Phoebe rolled her eyes and stood up to walk back to her room.

The last thing she heard before she closed her door was:

"But, what do you know about parenting?"