𝑪𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒊𝒈𝒂𝒏 { ᴍᴜʟᴛɪ-ғᴀɴᴅᴏᴍ ᴏɴᴇsʜᴏᴛs }

𝐻𝑖𝑔ℎ 𝐴𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 (Vance Hopper x fem!reader) pt5

PREVIOUSLY

You bid him goodnight before exiting and Vance couldn't remember if he returned it. He was fast asleep as soon as the hallway light was off, his dreams filled with you and him slashing your parents car tires.
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The dam broke the second you closed your door, not even making it to your bed as you slid down, crying into the material of your skirt to muffle your cries, staining flawless and pristine fabric with mascara and lipstick.

Everything happened so fast, like it usually did when your parents came back. It was all a blur and before you knew it, they were driving down the road towards the airport again. You knew the consequences that came with your parents career but you didn't think they would ever let it consume them to this extent; there were a number of times your mother forgot your own name, your birthday and age.

Last night, she argued with you for a half an hour, insisting that you weren't (age). It wasn't the first time and you accepted a long time ago that it wouldn't be the last. You had to pull out one of the many copies you made of your birth certificate and her hospital records.

And your father..

Your heart pulsated at the back of your throat, burning with the need to scream and wail so loud that the neighbours thought you were being murdered. Even though you lived alone most of your life, it became difficult for you to cry and scream, your body aching at the need to release more than meesly hiccups and whines.

It hurt to watch him slowly drift from you as well. You loved him; he always took your side and never backed down to defend you and come to your aid. Yet, tonight he didn't have that fight in him. He did defend you but not with the same amount of vigour as before.

You suspected your mother had something to do with it. You knew she did.

You read and heard of father's drifting from their teenage girls as they started growing up and becoming women. It started during puberty but you weren't worried. Your father was the one there with you when you first went through it and he was the one who sat you down and explained what was happening was normal and it was okay, that he wouldn't stop loving you and you'd always be his little princess.

You should've known that even your father would start to drift. Maybe that's why you got your bike in middle school. Maybe that's why it was white with cartoon daisy's and not some dark purple like Donna's with a striped seat.

That's what you didn't understand.

Your mother wanted you to be mature, and scolded you often for childish behavior. Yet, when you were mature and 'acted your age', she'd immediately 'put you in your place', reminding you that you were a child.

Your father did the same thing. Not as often but he did still do it. And that hurt when you first realized it.

Your mother wanted you to grow up yet stay a sweet, innocent child at the same time. Your father wanted you to stay his sweet little girl yet he wanted you to grow up as well. It was confusing. You couldn't be all those things at once. You couldn't be sweet and innocent and childish when it benefitted your father and mature and radiant and a young lady for your mother.

You couldn't be all those things at once. You never knew when which was side was needed and got mixed up often.

An hour passed and found yourself laying on your side on the rug, curled up, another sob tore itself from your throat, your heart hammering against your ribs like a deranged bird, trying to control your breathing to release the tension in your muscles and throat. Maybe if you weren't so focused on your breathing and the hammering that now filled your ears, you would've heard the doorknob twisting because now you were staring straight up into blue eyes.
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