Outsider to Insider (Part 1)

For my whole life I’ve been looking at everyone else worlds through my own eyes. I've been thrown into many different worlds. I find myself sitting here writing this as an eighteen year old girl, young lady, young adult, ah screw it. I'm Charlie. And here is my life.
The Beginning
I was born into a lower middle class family, my father died when I was four. He was a pilot and well.. he apparently wasn't the greatest pilot. His plane crashed. He died to what I presumed to be a slow and painful death being that a rod was spiked through his ever so delicate skull. Anyway, so it was just my mom, my older sister Nicole, she was 13 when my dad died, and my younger brother Roy, he was only two months old when our father died. Nicole is perfect. No I'm serious she's perfect. Always has been. She is beautiful and smart. My mother worships the ground she walks on. Roy is a little brat sometimes. I still love him of course he is my brother.
The Era Of James
My mother was never around much, unfortunately my step father at the time was. His name was James and he was an awful man. His skin had a disgusting mix of an aroma of baby lotion and rum. Since my mom was never around James could do whatever he damned please with my siblings and I. He never did anything to Nicole, because she was older and could probably kick his ass. And he adored Roy, Roy was the apple of James eye. James hated me more then anything. Even when I was seven years old James use to make fun of how I was chubby, he use to make me do every single chore around the house, Nicole and Roy never got any of the cruelty I did. My mom and James fought constantly. I remember one Christmas we went to James's parent's house for dinner and what not. I was seven then and I was kinda of tired, I had been up at four staring at the presents under the tree with a child like wonder. So I decided I would lay on the floor (note this was long after dinner probably at eight o clock at night) and pretend I was on a Polly Pocket Cruise Ship, it was like the best present I got that year. I recall James being beyond pissed when we got home, he screamed at me for an hour, I went to work with my mom the next day I was so scared. Once, at my mothers work, (she worked at a hotel as the receptionist) James, my mother, my little brother and I were behind the front desk. I was talking about the south, my dad was from the south, and how I was proud to have southern blood in me, I was seven maybe eight at the time. And James said “Don't tell people you're from the south, they'll be surprised you have all your teeth.” As a kid who grew up without their dad you take any type of attachment you have to them and hang on for dear life, so I took what he had said as an insult so I playfully kicked his calf. Before I knew it I was on the ground clutching my stomach were James's foot had kicked me. By this time in my life my sister had left, I always felt and will always feel like she abandoned me, I was an eight year old kid being tortured and scared out of my mind every day and night of my life for about seven years. I endured a lot of neglect from my mother, due to the extreme manipulation of James. I was given mental, emotional, and sometimes even physical abuse from James. The fact that no one seemed to love me started to sink in. I dove into books and tried desperately to think of something else besides the fact that no one cared about me. When I lay in bed at night and thought about my life, at eight years old I thought of how my mom never paid any attention to me, how James picked on me, how I'd get bullied at school, how I was unloved, how even God abandoned me and took my father away. I began cutting at the age of eight. I don't think I knew what I was doing to be completely honest, it just felt good to be the one hurting myself instead of others doing it. I was a very complicated young kid, I thought this is how everyone lived. Every kid had a list full of chores, every kid had a step father who called them names, touched them, and beat them, every kid had a mother who pretended like this wasn't happening, every kid had a perfect sister who just up and left, every kid had a dead father that watched this from Heaven with an anger building up, every kid questioned the meaning of God at night, every kid cut themselves. I blocked out most of my childhood because of James. I remember being incredibly scared all the time of him. My life was almost like Cinderellas. When I got home from school, I had a list of chores to do, while I did them I would spin around and sing about a good life. A life with a nice dad and a good mom, and a happy family. I was nine at the time. I remember one time my mom and James got in a fight I don't remember why but I was outside raking leaves. It was freezing out. I remember my mom coming outside and saying “Charlie come here now we are leaving.” I was kinda confused but not really we had been kicked out of our own house plenty of times. I followed my mom up the stairs with James at our heels yelling things I don't quite remember. I was getting some clothes for a couple of nights when my mom slammed my bedroom door in James's face. I couldn't make out what he was yelling through the door but apparently my mom could, she got so mad so punched my dresser almost breaking her hand. When I finished getting pretty much everything out of my room we began walking down the stairs, James was at the end of the steps. My mom passed him no problem, when I got close to him he blocked me, my mom was yelling things like “Let her pass you son of a bitch,”. I will never forget what James said to me on that day, by those steps... “You're scumbag father killed himself.” I did what any other kid would do in that exact situation. I sobbed, I cried hysterically and reached for my mom, she pulled me out of house into the car and we drove. We went to Wendy’s and got dinner. Then we went to my mom's work and rented a room. While I was sitting on the hotel bed, eating my nuggets I remembered that tomorrow was Christmas Eve. And I started to cry again because we didn't have a tree. About a week later we were back in that house with James. I told my mom I hated her and would never forgive her, I still haven't. My mom made a promise we would move out soon. It was about five months later, in late May, we moved into a house seven houses away from my grandma. And I thought “wow! A house without James! Me and mom will be so happy and close!” … yeah I was wrong. That summer my mom was gone pretty much the whole time. I remember I was either at my best friend's house or my uncle was with me at my house. My mom was home for all about three weeks that whole summer collectively. I remember one time my mom was really upset over something James did (I found out later he had been cheating) so I, being a nine year old little girl, decided I would walk to 7-11 and buy my mom, my uncle and I some hotdogs, soda and chips, so my mom wouldn't have to cook. I bought it with my own money and everything. I walked back home and I noticed my moms car was gone. I looked down at the bag full of goodies and sighed. I unlocked my house door walked in gave my uncle his food and sat on the couch with the rest of it. I glared at the hotdog the was for my mom and eyes welling up with tears I called my dog over. I fed him the hotdog and started to cry. I don't know why my feelings were so hurt over her not being home for a hotdog. I think it was because I actually cared enough to walk three blocks, pay for something with my own money and walk all the way back and her not even have the decency to wait just 20 minutes and eat a goddamn hotdog with her daughter. I was incredibly depressed my whole childhood. I would dive into books and surround myself with fictional characters that I called my friends. I thought about my dad a lot my whole life, I never knew him. Turn out I was about to find out a lot.
How I Got Out:
Getting out of the situation I was in was surprisingly easy. When I was fifteen, a week before I was sixteen, a very polished man showed up at my door. He had on a crisp black suit, with a striking mint green tie as the only dash of color in his attire. He had slicked back black hair, not in a greasy way in a handsome old school way. With a buttery tan his ice blue eyes were memorizing. He was a looker. “Charlie Jones?” he asked raising a slightly gray eyebrow.
“Yes?” I answered, I stepped forward a bit. “Who are you?” I bit my lip.
“Samuel Tucker,” he extended his hand. “Your father's lawyer.”
“My father?” I asked suspiciously. “There must be some mistake my father is dead.”
“Yes, I am aware. Your father was a very good friend of mine, and a good costumer. See, your father had about three billion dollars in stocks secretly before he passed. Your mother found out about it when you were about seven and tried to force me to give it over to her. However, in your fathers will he left everything to you.”
“Is this some kind of cruel joke?” I asked,my eyebrows smashing together.
“No joke ma'am I assure you,” he handed me a file. I glanced inside it, papers about my father, his stocks, his estates.
“Okay,” I said defeated. “Come in.”
Mr. Tucker sat very promptly on my dingy couch. He opened several files.
“Would you like a drink?” I asked waltzing over to the fridge trying to act somewhat sophisticated. I opened the fridge. Beer...beer...juicy juice...beer...kool-aid...
“No thank you I'm okay.” he said politely.
I sat in the arm chair facing the sofa. “Sir, I'm still quite confused.”
“Allow me to explain, your father Mr. Louis was a very wonderful and brilliant man. He never wanted a high end life. However, he was very smart with his money, back in the 80s he invested in an oil company that was a huge success overseas, therefore he made about a quarter of a billion dollars in under six months, since then his money tripled. When he died he left his money, along with his secret estates, a house in the Hamptons and a pent house in the upper east side, to you.”
“Me? Why me?” I asked still not believing this.
“He never told me. But as his lawyer I was instructed to come to you when you were sixteen, I figured a few weeks earlier wouldn't hurt.” Tucker paused and smiled at me. “Listen, you have an aunt that I’m sure you've never meet, your mother and aunt did not get along.”
“How do you know this...?” I inspected this man again. He looked honest, well-bred, and compassionate.
“I was your father's best friend.” He said with a hint of sadness in his manly voice. “I was at his funeral. He loved you very much, he loved all of you. He worshiped your mother, he gave up his inheritance for her.”
“Inheritance?” Raising my eyebrows I took a sip of my tap water.
“Yes, your father's family was very wealthy. Your grandmother was a famous model, and your grandfather a very well known businessman. Your grandfather passed when your father was just a little boy and your grandmother is now living in Florida, while your aunt still lives in the Upper East Side.”
“Um, so basically what you are saying is, I’m rich, I have a two houses, and a family I don't know about.” I began to let this sink in. I was rich.
“Yes and according to your father's wishes he wants you to attend Billington Private school, as he did. He wants you to take care of your little brother. As for your mother he believes that she will be financially secured with the 5 million dollars she has coming to her.”
“I'm sorry,” I shook the confusion from my head. “But what am I suppose to do? Leave my family?”
“Miss Jones,” he paused looking uncomfortable. “Due to your fathers last wishes, I have been keeping track of you. Not as a lawyer, as a godfather. The cops have been called to your house an average of nine times a year. Your mom and stepfather have had a history of drug abuse, and not to mention...” he paused and let his gaze fall onto the bruise on my wrists. “Child abuse.”
“My mom never hit me.” I protested quietly. “I just.. this bruise is from...” I struggled to find an answer.
“I know its not your mom. Charlie your fathers dying wish was to see you are taken care of, by your aunt and I.” he paused at the sounds of a car door slamming. “I know it may seem odd, so before anything is settled why don't you come to the city and we can talk this over with your aunt Helen. Okay?”
“That sounds good.” I nodded, a new life really didn't sound so bad.
“Charlie, why the hell is the door locked!” James yelled from the front door. “Ain't no one gonna take you, and if they did...good!”
Samuel stood up. James walked into the living room and squinted his eyes at Mr Tucker. “Who is this? You didn't ask to have company over.” a sharp glare was thrown to me by James.
“Miss Jones wasn't aware of my stopping by, Samuel Tucker.” He extended his hand to james, who glared at it for a moment then shook it. “I was a friend of her fathers.”
James snorted. “Her father? You mean that stupid ass piece of shit pilot?”
“I would not disrespect the dead. Especially with his daughter right here.” Mr.Tucker's eyes narrowed.
“Listen, Chuck, here knows her father was stupid. Obviously. He couldn't fly a fucking plane.” James rolled his eyes. “What do you want anyway?”
“I am afraid I am not allowed to tell you.” Samuel started to make his way to the door when James stopped him.
“I'm sorry you are a forty year old grown ass man who I found alone in my house with my fifteen year old stepdaughter. Tell me what the hell you want before I call the cops!” I heard the front door open. My mom walked into the living room, dragging Roy behind her. She stopped dead when she saw Samuel.
“Sam.” she breathed shocked. “What...what are you doing here?”
Mr. Tucker stiffened when he saw my mother. In a very tight voice he said simply: “Carrying out Charles's last wishes.”
My moms gaze never left Samuel's face, as he made his way to the door he turned back to me and said “Saturday at noon, I’ll send a car for you to meet your aunt and I.”