Page 51 of Undone By The Mountain Daddies

Sienna shrieks and disappears inside, and the irrational side of my brain feels bad about skinning the deer in front of her.

I wipe the blade clean in the snow and go in with the knife again. The tearing sound of flesh echoes through the air, each tear sounding harsher than the last. Blood gushes from the deer, spilling over the snow and turning it red.

And then it completely consumes my vision.

My focus is on Mom’s red lips and nothing else.

Aside from the weird paintings on the wall, her lips are the boldest feature in this room as she opens and closes them, saying words I can’t hear.

I heard all I need to. The rest is garbage.

“When will you be back?”

My father puts his arm around my mom and takes over the conversation. “We’re not sure yet, son. But Jackie will take care of everything.”

The housekeeper may as well have become my mother at this point.

Ever since their business took off last year, they’re almost never home.

I head to school, eat the meals Jackie prepares for me, and spend the evenings alone in my room.

Mom used to paint her lips a different color, one less jarring. She smiled more back then, too.

She’s turned into a completely different person. One who can’t function without her Dior heels and loads of diamond jewelry.

“See you later, Cassian,” says Mom.

Her heels echo down the marble hallway. We moved into this huge house six months ago. My parents didn’t need to buy a property this big—they’re barely ever home. But like everything in this superficial city called Los Angeles, it’s all for show. All about appearances. Nothing is real.

I head up to my bedroom and lock the door as soon as I’m inside.

I crash on my bed and toss a pillow over my face, groaning into it.

There’s too much space, too much money, and it’s all become suffocating.

In the long weeks that my parents are away, I head to school, resent my peers for having families that actually give a fuck, and steal money from the safe, paying Jackie double. If my parents can afford to fly in private jets every other week, they can afford to pay Jackie more than the meager amount they give her.

“They’ll come around soon enough,” Jackie tells me, in an attempt to reassure me that they still care.

I’m hanging on by a thread when I see their posts all over social media. They run a production company, and their movies are even more insufferable than who they have become.

When they finally return, everything is the same. Mom still cares more about her clothes than anything else; my father updates me on shit I couldn’t care less about. They talk about their shared company like it’s their newly adopted child, and I’m old news.

Everything is the same.

Apart from the fact that they no longer have rings on their fingers.

I grab Mom’s hand and lift it into the chandelier light, making sure I’m not seeing things.

“Hey! You need to learn some etiquette.”

Who the fuck says ‘etiquette’?

“Where are your wedding rings?”

My mom sighs and looks at my dad. “Things happen.”

“Yeah? Like what?”