“Shut up. You have been an issue to my family for years. You are a failure,” My mother spat on the ground and slammed the door shut, the sound making me wince. I immediatly rushed to Brent’s side, as if he was a magnet, “Brent I’m so sorry about my mother. She’s a total bitch.”

“Aww don’t say that about your mother. And I’m fine. Totally used to it by now,” He words didn’t read true in his eyes, I could tell. He began twisting his lip ring back and forth with his tongue, seeming to try and focus on that more than me.

After a minute or two he turned back to me, smiling, “Ready to go now?”

I smiled big, “Of course.”

I recalled of back when my family owned our small yacht. It was a sailboat, and I loved it dearly. But like most things I have loved, my mother took it away, saying we didn’t have the money for it. Which I knew was a lie. Only our money could afford my mother’s terrible clothing bill.