I know. I know.

 You don't have to tell me.

Because I know. 

I'm sorry i am a sucky piece of ass

it is a sucky chapter and it's sucky short

it basically describes what a sucky ass i am

i just all suck

Chapter Thirteen

Juan arrived just when I thought Mariah was going to die from a heart-attack because of the suspense of seeing her son.

Her precious Juan.

I sat on the couch, with a pout glued on my face, as more people began to arrive.

 My father's band members.

eww.

My father's friends.

Double eww.

My father's managers.

Triple eww, just kill me now.

Juan sat beside me, as everyone else was talking in the dining room. Mariah was slaving away in the kitchen, and I knew she didn't want to be as she kept running in and out of the living room, with a cookie in her hand to feed her son.

He had about six of them, at this point.

I wasn't going to lie, all the fried Mexican food that Juan has been eating, has not benefited his appearance.

His stomach was bigger than a pillow.

"Your mom is evil." I commented, as she denied me a cookie, even though she just gave her son his seventh.

He shrugged, "She cooks good American food."

"Yeah? Well you should try African food. Because you need a little starvation in your diet."

"Wow, Aria, that was cruel, and a little racist." 

"How the hell is it racist if it's true? Do people really like to live in their fantasy worlds, where the truth is nonexistent?" Okay, my mood was sour, and I couldn't control it. I hated wearing the dress my father forced me to wear, and I hated the thought of eating in the same room with over fifty people, all which I hate with a passion.

I hated the fact that I had to go on tour with my father.

I hated the fact that my father was going to home school me. 

I hate my father's music, and the fact that I belong to him.

I have every right to be pissed off with my existence.

At least, it makes sense to me.

"Hey there, runaway." The one man I hated more than my father walked in, with a stupid grin on his face.

If I could kill anyone. . .

"Hi Mikey." I said with a fake smile, please refrain yourself from ever calling me that again, or I will suffocate you with a cushion coated in cinnamon.

He sat beside me, and now I was sitting in-between to very annoying men.

A fat Mexican with a stereotypical mustache.

And a man similar to my father.

"You got some crazy balls, for a girl as little as you." He said with a laugh, "I can't believe you actually did that."

I can't believe I haven't killed a man yet.

"You got my respect."

"Gee, thanks."

"Wouldn't say that about Gerard, though. He's kind of a sour ass."

"I've noticed." 

Just as I said that, my father walked in the room. He looked the apposite of pleased, "Don't patronize her." He said to Mikey, as Mikey rolled his eyes.

"Just doing my job as an uncle." He stated simply, as he wrapped his arm around my shoulders.

"The only job you'll be given is a walk to your car and leave."

"Don't be rude, man, it's Christmas, where's that jolly smile?" It was obvious he was being completely sarcastic. I'm not sure whose side I was on the most.

When I was younger, I despised Mikey, of course, that was when I absolutely adored my dad.

Now, I despise them both, and I'm not sure which hatred is stronger.

I just wanted to vanish.

"Todo está hecho, come, por favor, food is ready everyone." Mariah shouted, from the kitchen. Which caused my heart to begin to ache.

Juan was the first to get up and leave, and then went Mikey, as he patted my shoulder in the process.

I sat there, staring at the floor, hoping if I sat quietly, no one would realize I wasn't there.

"Come on, Aria." My father said as he walked over to me, and lightly grabbed my arm to pull me up. Why couldn't he have left along with his brother and Juan? Surely I could pull it off.

"Don't make me go in there, please?" Begging. Yes, I have turned to begging.

 I am low.

I tried to pull my arm out of his grip, which worked, for a few seconds. He sighed, stood there, staring at me for a long moment.

And then he sat right down beside me.

Great.

"Aria." He said calmly, "It's important to a lot of people that you act on your best behavior today."

"I can be good, without having to sit in that suffocating room, with all those people who don't give two shits about whether I'm there or not."

"It shows good display."

"I'm not a display."

"And I'm not asking you to do this for me, I'm asking to do this for the band."

I turned to look at him, I knew, by the icy glare that was radiating off his eyes, that I didn't have a choice.

"Whatever." I sat up, and practically stomped to the kitchen, where I met Juan, who was already stuffing his face before he even got his hands on a plate.

Disgusting.

Mariah handed me a plate of food, and told me to sit beside my father. I obeyed, and actually turned out to be the first person at the table, besides Mikey who had pulled my chair out for me.

What a gentleman.

It was like my father, and Mariah, had already planned everything out for me. Where I sat, what I ate, I actually felt like a display.

And frankly, it was kind of embarrassing.