#setting: unknown

Challenge: Write a first person narrative, using the theme reflections.

           Why is it when someone tells you not to do something, you do the exact opposite? Story of my life really. I'm not the rebellious kind you see, I just happen to do everything they told me not to. Don't skip classes, don't go drinking, don't hitchhike, and don't ever fall in love with someone more screwed up than you. The last one, that's what my mother had always said. She knew from experience. Apparently my father was like that. But, I don't know my father. I don't think she did either. At least, not in the way one should know their partner. She could never get inside his head; she could never understand his reasons for doing the things he did. To her. To us.

           But I'm not here to talk about my father. I'm not here to talk about my mother either. I'm not supposed to be here really, waiting in this godforsaken place. Now I'm being a bit harsh. It's not godforsaken; it's just a bloody hotel room. HIS hotel room. Well, in the bathroom of his hotel room. I didn't mean to, you know, go against my mother's warning. He didn't seem more screwed up than me when I first met him. I honestly thought no one could be. I really didn't know what I was getting into, dating this kind of man. He was the kind that lived from hotel to hotel, being able to afford that but not a proper suit. Sitting on the toilet, (seat down mind you), I chuckle.

           His idea of a suit was black jeans with a corduroy jacket. And a tie that never stayed that way with a shirt that could never stay buttoned. At least when I'm around. What's wrong with him? Everything. And nothing. To list them would take all day and I don't have time for that. Hell, I don't even have time to be here. I don't have to be waiting in his bathroom, waiting for his meeting to end. A business meeting he calls it. I snort this time, half wondering if they can hear me from the outside. It's not the only reason I'm in here. Been feeling sick of late, actually. Everyday for a month almost.

           The room starts to feel warm, so I go to the sink and splash my face. The cold running water, feels good. I stare into the falling water, and suddenly wonder... Have I ever done what I've been told? I search my memories and can't think of one time. Not even today have I followed orders. He told me not to come today. But I did. He told me not to kiss him. But I did. And as soon as his "business colleagues" arrived, he told me to leave. But I didn't. Instead, I slipped into this here bathroom, telling him I wasn't feeling well. And it is the truth. I don't. Proof of that's been flushed down the drain.

           As I turn the tap off, I remember something my mother once told me. I don't why she told me this, as I don't think it's helped me become a better person. Maybe because she was dying. She claimed it was of loneliness, the doctor said it was Lung Cancer. She told me the reason Father married her was because of me. And the reason Father left her, not us mind you, was because she never listened to him. And then, before she left this world she begged me to follow her last wish.

           "Don't become like me, baby. Don't follow the same paths I did. Don't ruin your life."