don't get me wrong () prodigal son SLOW UPDATES

Fifty Four

Chapter Fifty Four:

"Here." She pointed up at Malcolm's building, "Thanks again."

Hugo raised a brow at the graffitied metal doors, "This is your place?"

"It's Malcolm's actually, but I stay here a lot."

His lips formed a line, he looked up at the tall building before looking back at her. "I hope you find your mother, Theodora."

"Me too." She waved goodbye, fishing her key from her pocket. She went to put the key in the lock when the door creaked open.

"Are you gonna be alright?" Hugo questioned, staring at the opened door.

"Yeah. Thanks, again."

Theodora quietly shut the door behind her before slowly climbing up the steps. Heels clicked on the hardwood and she found her eyes rolling, here we go.

It took a few minutes before Jesse Whitly noticed Theodora, but when she did the woman had her famous glare on her face.

"Miss Fletcher." Malcolm's mother said, "Malcolm isn't here."

"I know. But he's bringing back dinner so I figured I should be here when he does."

There was an old red shoebox sitting on the island, stickers and random things were plastered all over it.

"You have your own place of residence, you realize."

"Oh, I'm plenty aware, Mrs Whitly."

The woman pursed her red lips, she glanced back at the box before making her way by Theodora and towards the stairs leading to the front door.

"Let my son know that I stopped by."

Theodora stayed silent, not turning around to face her.

"You know it's rude not look at whoever is speaking to you?"

She shook her head, mind running wild. "You want me to face you while you degrade me?" She turned, sending a glare. "Why don't you like me, Mrs Whitly. From day one, every since you met me it seems you decided to hate me."

Instead of a response, the older woman only gazed around the room. Theodora was surprised she didn't just leave, but knew she was stubborn.

"It's rude, to not look at whoever is speaking to you." Theodora quipped, "Isn't it, Jesse?"

Malcolm's mother remained quiet as she took the stairs, her heels clicking loudly all the way down until the door slamming shut sealed off the outside world.

Damn it, Theodora rubbed her eyes. She trudged over to island and flopped onto a bar stool, swivelling back and fourth silently.

Everything sucked. Everything.

Theodora just wanted her mother and her father back, to tell her everything was going to be okay. She was sick of having to decide it for herself, or to ignore everything until something good came.

"Theodora!" Jay Fletcher shouted, running after her daughter. "Running away won't make anything easier! You can't hide forever!"

An eight year old Theodora huddled herself into a corner, "I don't wanna go!"

"You need to go. You're sick. The doctor will make you feel better, he has all the medicine."