Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Water Lilly Confessions ❯ All Along the Watchtower ( One-Shot )

Water Lilly Confessions

 

All Along the Watchtower

I sit near the window of our hotel room. Despite it being a hot July night, I was cold with animosity again. Any second now, my father would be swaying drunk with yet another groupie in her early twenties. He's too old for this shit. With all of the booze and hard drugs he has done over the past forty years, I'm surprised he's still alive. My father has cheated death one too many times. I used to be glad he survived. But now, I don't care anymore.

Maybe that's why mama left him. I barely remember her. I've been told that she has tried many times to gain custody of me from my father. But he keeps winning. I am assuming that he has a close tie with the judges. I shudder when I think about how corrupt justice can be.

My father used to be handsome. Now, he is a sixty-two year old who gives Boy George a run for his money. Age and drugs are never a good combination. I swore to myself to be clean forever. I have kept that promise for thirty years.

Loud laughter stirred me from my head. I looked down into the Baton Rouge night. There he was. My old drunken sex-addicted rock-god father. He was swaying with a young twenty-something groupie. She was old enough to be my younger sister. She was dressed like a prostitute in her short tight pink leather miniskirt and glittery tight black tube top. Her gold four-inch high-heels and over-killed make-up completed her look. I rolled my eyes in disgust. “Sickening pig!” I thought in annoyance. “Doesn't he ever rest?” It's going to be the same thing as last night! *Sigh* I feel sorry for the maid who has to wash those sheets in the morning. I always do.

But then, an older woman approached the couple. She looked angry. Instantly, I recognized her. She was my mother. I had seen many photos of her in fashion magazines. She was a top model in the sixties, seventies, and early eighties. I'm amazed that she has kept her looks and figure all of these years. She never did drugs either. But why was she here in Baton Rouge? I watched on intrigued.

My mother then slapped my father in the face hard. I was so shocked that I couldn't move. My parents' fights were always verbal. Violence never came into play. My father must have done something so awful to piss her off like that.

Then, my mother grabbed the groupie by the throat and violently shoved her against the wall. She began beating the other woman violently. My father stood there and watched in terror. I couldn't stomach anymore. I turned away from the window faced the room door.

I noticed my letter from Damon Hall opened on my bed. Only then, did I relax. Damon was the only good thing going for me. He wasn't a celebrity; he was just an average guy. Just the way I loved him. He didn't have to impress me with money or expensive gifts. All we did was walk around different cities, talk for hours at a time, and watch the latest movies such as The Fugitive and Mrs. Doubtfire. Yes, Damon was my order in this hectic life I was born into.

Without much ado, I crawled across the wine red carpet in the dark room. I picked up the phone and called my boyfriend.