TRAPPED

12

"I can decide that for myself." I mumble.

He sighs. "You need rest, Celine. That's how you'll get better."

"You need to mind your own business." I scowl. I turn back around and look at my parents, only to find that they're not there anymore. I frown. I turn back to him. "Thanks a lot." I mumble.

"You're welcome. Come on." He says. He sets a hand on my shoulder and leads me back toward my room. He doesn't talk, but strangely the fact that he's there makes me feel a little better, even though it shouldn't.

He opens my door, then walks beside me. He waits until I'm under my covers again before saying: "just message somebody if you want something, okay?"

I stare at him blankly, and he nods awkwardly before leaving. I turn onto my side and grab my phone from the bedside table, my head aching again. I turn the device on and go onto messages, then click on my fathers contact.

ME: Wagherkx pls.

ADRIEN: What?

ME: Cahn I have smoe water pls.

ADRIEN: Okay. I'll bring it up to you in a moment.

ME: Okay.

My phone drops onto the floor then. I groan as I lean down to pick it up, only to fall off the bed and onto the floor, bringing half my blankets down with me.

I frown, not moving. I lay flat on my stomach, my arms splayed to my side. I'm like that for what feels like forever when the door opens.

"Celine?" My father questions.

I mumble incoherently in response. I feel like I'm dying.

Then my father is beside me. He puts his hands under my armpits to lift me up, into his arms so my legs are dangling.

"What happened, baby?" He asks me, pulling back a little to look at me as he holds me.

"Phone fell." I mumble.

"Sweetheart." He whispers, a little exasperated. He kisses my cheek before setting me back down on the bed. He pulls the covers up to my chin, then retrieves my phone from the floor. The water bottle is beside me, so he grabs it and uncaps the lid, passing it to me. I drink a little before putting it back on the bedside table. "Does that feel better?"

I nod.

He smiles. "Okay. Good." He replies. "Do you wanna go back to sleep?"

I shake my head. "I—I wanna go home."

His smile falters. "Celine," he says quietly, "you're gonna be staying here for a little while, while your mother and I sort a few things out."

"I don't want to live here." I reply quietly, my head pulsing with an ache again.

"I know." He says, his voice soft. "But I don't think your mother is a good person, sweetheart, and she was nasty to your brothers."

"N-not to me."

That's a lie. She is. But she'll get mad at me if I don't live with her.

"She could be." He replies. "And she didn't even give you a bed, when I gave her more than enough money to. She spent it on things for herself, when it was for you. And she's asked me for more money a lot. For herself. You're not her priority, and you should be."

My eyes water. "You don't know anything." I sit up. "I'm not staying here."

"Celine—"

I go to move off the bed, but he sets a gentle hand on my shoulder and pulls me back. "You're not supposed to be out of bed, Celine. You're not well."