*Quick comment: I noticed that lately I've been diving into the college plot more in my stories and it may annoy some that I don't expand my plots, but I hope my readers like this story and please feel free to give me feedback. I edited the best I could and I would use the help of an editor, but I'm too impatient and eager to have this one published. For a warning, this chapter holds no romantic scenes and is a depressing chapter. This isn't just one of those "Quickie" stories, it'll involve many chapters, if I deem so and I won't promise any sex in the next one, but if you love a good romance like I do - then you should have no problem for the wait. Now, enough of my babbling! Go and read way. <3
~Nicole.
*
Staring through the window on such a beautiful, warm, sunny day should make me happy. It should make me want to jump with glee and go catch butterflies or some shit like that, but it would require a great deal of energy I just seemed to have lost these past few weeks. During these said few weeks, a number of unfortunate events piled up on my life all of a sudden. First, there was my now ex-best friend whom I caught riding like a A+ cowgirl on top of my now ex-boyfriend, my mother left my father for some young stud that clearly didn't even understand what he was doing, my little sister came out of the closet which broke the camels back with Dad, who did anything but damned her to hell before kicking her out, and now I noticed my grades were slipping which needed to be fixed before Dad hunted me down next.
All in all now I lived in this tiny house with only my dad left in it. You'd think since I was in college now that I could get a dorm room there or something, but my parents had convinced me I was needed at home more, but now I'm staying because I don't think I can walk out on Dad right now. Ever since Mom and Abby, he's locked himself in his room for countless hours, barely getting up to eat and shower once and awhile. It's like I've become his personal nurse or something and as annoying as it was to have to constantly coax him out of his room to get him outside for a bit, I tried my best to keep my spirits up around him, but there was only so much I could do without my self-destructive attitude towards myself almost surfacing completely.
My family was never really close before all this happened. I mean, my sister and I were close enough and I was damn close to smacking Dad for the things he said before seeing her give me a look that meant not to get involved. Which is a hard thing to do when you're father is screaming what a disgrace his daughter is without the whole town hearing. I'm still on edge with that day, hence why it's more bothersome than it would've been given any other situation, considering he's acting like a child who just learned how to walk. With my parents, my sister and I never opened up to them. They were just those sort of people that expected you to do what they said, to take the insults from them without commenting back, to even get a beat down and still keep your trap shut. Yet another reason I'm living at home rather than partying it up at my college dorm room.
"Carla! Carlaaa!"
Giving one last longing look out to the glowing, green grass and breath-taking sun, I headed down to Dad's room. Where I'm sure he wants me to act like his mommy again and fetch him some soup because apparently laying around the house all day makes you a very ill person. Walking down the stairs, I lingered a little at the pictures hanging on the walls. I don't think we ever took a family photo together accept the one on the middle of the wall where I was ten and Abby was 7. A family couldn't look more awkward with those forced smiles and stiff stances like we were waiting to be blown up from the closeness of each other.
Hearing Dad grumbling loudly down below had me sigh in exhaustion. If the man would only get off his ass for two fucking seconds, I'm sure he'd be starting to try and piece his life back together. When I entered his room, I noticed the curtains where opened for the first time since Mom left and gasped a little as I saw Dad leaning against the window sill, staring outside. He looked so fragile and lost, I actually felt sorry for him. Mind you, I love my father with all my heart, but with how I was raised, it's hard to show your affections and/or actually feel any sympathy towards your family. Sounds cold, but it's the way it was as a kid.
"Dad? You alright there?"
"Yeah, yeah. Get me some soup, will ya?"
"Mm."