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Olivia Mitford
25
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11:47 PM

Thirteen minutes before her eighteenth birthday. Twenty-two minutes after her father began the argument. She didn't think her parents would still be up; their usual bedtime was sometime around 9:30. There was no reason to think tonight would have been any different. But as Olivia began her cautious descent down the stairs, pulling her worn black jacket around her, she felt the twinge of premonition tugging in her gut. Sure enough, just before the foot of the stairs, her eyes fell on the pool of orange-tinted light that spilled into the entrance hallway from the living room. 

"Going out?" came the deep timbre of her father's voice as she cussed under her breath. And thus began what seemed like the billionth fight between the two, with Olivia hurling insult after insult at the bastard and her father raging on about what a disappointment she was - and was going to continue to be. At some point, Mrs. Mitford finally padded down the stairs herself after trying to ignore the whole thing, determined to keep them from throwing the furniture at each other. 

It was only a few minutes after her mother had added her own voice into the mix that Olivia had decided she'd had enough. She was turning legal in less than twenty minutes, and she sure as hell wasn't going to spend it listening to her parents screaming. Her father, of course, had other ideas, immediately snatching his daughter's wrist as she was turning to leave. His grip was tight, supported by years of resentment and the momentum of the situation. Not one to be manhandled by anyone, [b]especially[/b] not the man who called himself her father, Olivia twisted and turned, trying to escape from his hold. The struggle eventually resulted in the red, stinging hand shaped mark on her left cheek that the night breeze soothed with every step she took away from the damned house.

Her movements were both jerky and shaky as she extracted her half empty pack from her pocket and slipped a cigarette between her plum colored lips. After a few failed attempts with the lighter, the flame finally caught, allowing her to take a long drag from the stick. She was basking in the instantaneous relief it gave her when she felt a tingling sensation down the side of her nose, and it was only when she went to swipe at it did she realize she had been lightly crying. Somewhat annoyed at herself, the brunette quickly brushed away whatever else had managed to escape from her eyes as she reached the corner of her street.

She lowered herself down to sit on the curb, her arms dangling between her knees except when she took a pull from the cig. An hour ago she had been so ready to go out and be wild at her biggest birthday party to date, but the fight had somehow deflated her, and it was with a sober expression on her features that she took out her cellphone and unlocked it, glancing at the time before she let her fingers do the rest.

The ringing in her ear seemed to echo in her mind, which had emptied itself of anything but the cancer stick between her two fingers. She snapped back to attention just when she heard the click of someone answering the phone after having counted a total of six rings. Although it was nearly midnight, Olivia didn't lead with an apology for waking him up or being a bother. They'd been through this routine so many times that it probably would have been weirder if she had done so. "Hey, uhh.." Her clogged nose was so obvious from her voice that she knew he would know at once that she'd been crying. The realization caused her eyelids to flutter shut with slight frustration as she ran a hand through her hair. His getting upset about what had happened to her was the last thing she needed right now. Olivia could only hope that the red welt on her face would disappear before he got there. "Could you come pick me up?" 

That was it. She knew she didn't have to explain herself to him. And that was why he was her best friend.