"Adrian? Can you come down here I'd like a word with you." Mr.Wells asked as he still sipped his coffee at the bar counter.
"Yes,father,but might I pack my stuff in the trunk, please?"
"Yes,dear, but please hurry up?"
Adrian stepped out the door and Mr.Wells watched as Adrian stuffed her duffel bag in the trunk if his car.
"Father? What would you like?"
"Adrian? You have always told me the truth, right?"
"Why do you ask, daddy?" Adrian fiddled with a basket on the counter.
"Well, do you rememer when your mother grabbed you in the kitchen?"
"Yes,daddy, I remember it well." Adrian said, seeking pity.
"Well, she didn't grab you that hard."
"Oh, you're just saying that because mother did."
"Adrian.I watched her.Tell me the truth.How did you break your arm?"
"Umm...I took a fall when I was running up the stairs."
"Adrian.That is not true. Tell me the truth!"
"Okay,daddy! Okay! I peeked into your tool shed and broke it with a vice."
"I don't know, daddy. I just don't know."
"Is it true what your mother said that you killed her?"
"Well, I didn't want her to tell on me?"
"I've been naughty, daddy."
"How many times, Adrian."
"Too many more than I can count."
Mr.Wells frowned at his daughter. Had they raised her up to be this way?
"Daddy?" Adrian asked.
"Are you too angry?"
"We have to get you some help."
"No, daddy! Oh, I knew this was going to happen!" She took off, slapping her father across the face.