CASTLE IN THE AIR

CHAPTER TWO

I entered our small, dingy house in the trenches of London. We had totally gone bankrupt, so we had to sell the last property I had; my family house. It had been four months since my father had died and everything had happened. Since then I had been searching for a job or another, applying in all the companies possible as a financial advisor.

Unfortunately my reputation hadn't healed over time. Anywhere I went, they labelled me as "the Perverted CEO's Daughter", and it frustrated all my efforts to start working again.

"Honey, I'm home!..." I called out, as I opened the cheap wood front door and walked into the house.

No answer came at first. Our house was relatively small, so there was no way he couldn't have heard me. Unless...

"Sweetheart?" I called out again, in curiosity and slight worry.

Had he gotten drunk again?

I walked into the pathetic excuse of a living room. Just as I had feared and predicted, he was lying on the couch, empty bottles of alcohol scattered all over the floor.

A heavy scent of something that i did not recognize, mixed with dirty socks hung in the air, and it hit my nose the moment I walked in.

Damn, this place was a mess.

"Paul... I had been calling your name." I said, a tone of disappointment lacing my voice.

He turned on the couch, trying to sit up and face me.

"Mmmhhh?...." He made an incoherent sound, his eyelids half closed.

How much had he drunk? It was clear from the way he was moving that he was more intoxicated than a sailman.

Suddenly, I noticed some newspapers on the small centre table, that was situated before the couch. The hell was newspaper doing there? Last I checked, Paul didn't particularly have any interest in reading anything, talk less of the daily paper.

Deciding to check it, I approached the table and picked the twisted thing up. It looked like it had been folded multiple times.

Then, I noticed a white powder in the paper. No.... He couldn't be...

"Paul, what is this?" I instantly swiveled around to face his now sitting form with wide eyes.

"The hell you think it is?" He slurred out, looking at me with bloodshot eyes.

"Co.... cocaine?...." Stammering the word in disbelief and fear that it might be true.

He threw his head back, laughing as if he had just heard the funniest joke of the century. What on Earth was wrong with him?

"... Your..." He wheezed in between his fits of laughter. "... Your face is priceless, man. It's like an innocent child just discovering about s*x. f*****g priceless."

I was confused. Why did he find my shock towards the situation so hilarious? A surge of annoyance filled my veins as I watched him make a complete fool of himself.

"I don't quite understand..." I finally said, after observing him for a few more moments.

"You're acting as if cocaine is such an unusual thing." He finally calmed down.

"It is illegal to possess such." I deadpanned.

"No s**t Einstein."

I looked at him long and hard, resisting the urge to scream in frustration at the way he was so casual about it.

"You are doing drugs."

"Damn right I am."

"You say it like it's something brilliant." I retorted, c*****g a single eyebrow up.

"Isn't it?..." He laughed again, this time coughing in between. "... It's practically your fault anyways."

"What?" The hell did he mean by that?

"Yes. Well largely your father's, but also yours." He shrugged nonchalantly, as if he had said nothing wrong.

"I don't remember pressuring you into doing drugs, Paul. Neither do I remember my father resurrecting from the grave."

"Hah." He laughed out loud.

Had I said something funny?

"What humours you?"

"The fact that you believe that your dad can actually do that."

"I don't think so. It was a mere comment."

"I'm glad that you know that he has too many sins."

His comment had the same effect as a taser on me. I was bombshell shocked that he out of everyone would say such a thing about my late father.

"What do you mean by that?" I asked, just to confirm and not jump into conclusions.

After all; Paul often had a habit of being honest in the wrong way. I wanted to believe that he didn't mean it the way that I thought he did.

Unfortunately for me, however, his next words did a marvelous job at shattering my hopes from him.

"God, Shasha. Sometimes I wonder if you really have a brain or not..."

Ouch. That stung harder than it should have.

"... But since you don't understand, let me elaborate for you, my dear daft bunny. Your father, is one sinner who probably has a castle in hell for what he had done."

My mouth hung agape.

"Paul..."

"What? Are you gonna act like this nigga didn't do what he did? You know it's even good that he's dead. He had it coming, and I am glad that justice has been served. Good riddance."

My heart broke as he made that statement. How could he? He knew how my father had been so apologetic because of the way he had treated them, and had even said that he had stopped doing so a month ago.

"Why would you bring my father into this?"

"It's either you pretend to be very stupid sometimes, or you actually are so."

"What did I do again?"

"I just hate the way you defend your father. He is the one who brought us to this point, isn't he? Yet somehow you just constantly decide to overlook that fact. Don't you feel that if he kept it in his pants, everything could have been avoided? We wouldn't be living in this s**t hole, we would still have money!" He cried, each sentence getting a pitch higher.

"I don't understand what that has to do with drugs. What did I do?"

"You're so f*****g daft, Aisha. Sometimes I wonder why I am with you."

With that, he got up, and stormed out of the living room to God knows where.