Dreams are meant to be dreamt and made to go after. Unfortunately for Audrey Carter, that concept never really stuck. How do you go after something that you lost a long time ago?
Audrey met Tom a while back. Their encounter sparked something between...
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Then:
Once upon a time I was twelve years old. I was home, in my room. About to go to bed. It was a school night and I was always adamant about getting to bed on time. No one had to tell me.
I had my own room. Perks of being an only child. I knew I had it pretty good. I didn't have the hassle of getting in fights with siblings or sharing clothes. Like some my other friends had to go through.
I never had to see a day where I was the last choice over a sibling.
I considered myself pretty lucky on that aspect.
But one thing I had the misfortune of not seeing, was love. That was where I lacked.
I saw it when my mother looked at me sometimes. I saw it in my father too. But not once did they ever direct their eyes towards each other.
Not once did my mom kiss my dad on the cheek after a long day at work. My dad never said he was relieved to be home to see her. And I never heard them say they loved each other.
I was young though. I didn't notice how odd that was. I didn't understand how it'd really affect my own life.
It wasn't until I was twelve that I began realizing I was missing out.
My friends got to see that love all of the time. Their parents would kiss, hug, laugh, and joke. That was the first time I got to see, in them, what love was like. From the outside looking in.
Every time i'd be over a friend's house, i'd count how many times their parents would show any kind of affection towards each other. In their words. In their actions. Anything.
One hug would equal one point. One 'I love you' would be another. And so on.
I counted on average, a total of fourteen signs of love.
After my friends house, when I got home, I would count the same signs with my mother and father.
I never got past a total of one. And even that was rare.
I'd hear and see quite the opposite of love, actually. Instead of 'I love you', I'd hear 'get out of my face.' or 'Let's not start in front of Audrey.'
They fought a lot. In front of me. They fought nearly all of the time. About anything and everything. The weather, work, school, economics. You name it.
I never interveined.
I just stayed in my room. Most of the time I'd skip dinner. I'd wait the storm out with my bedroom door closed. Until I'd hear my mom say my name in the calmest tone she could have.
When I did come in contact with either of them after a fight, I'd pretend I didn't hear it. They knew I did, but they let me pretend anyways.
The whole thing had become normal to me. Even if I knew it was abnormal to others. I was accustomed to it. My twelve year old mind was full of optimism, trying to find the good out of something so bad. Trying to piece together all of the working parts out of something so unhealthy.
