Hiding My Heart

Chapter 28

I stare out my bedroom window blankly. I'm at my house all alone, well Sasha is here but she's in the living room ignoring me completely. It's been a day since the attack and planned kidnap, I was supposed to be over at Preston's to have our day of no interruptions but sadly he had a huge meeting about the attack on the rogues with the high council. I know for a fact that he's just going to report it as rogues passing through, only because he doesn't want to deal with the high council coming back for a visit. 

So here I am in my house basically all alone. Brayden is off at work and planning on going to Kelly's house for dinner, and my mom should be at work also. Getting up I couldn't deal with the silence anymore. I needed to do something productive and what better way than sort through old boxes that hold hidden secrets. Not wanting to over think all of the things Jared had told me I move to the foot of the attic stairs. 

Hearing Sasha flip through the channels I make my way up the boards, skipping the steps that creak until I'm in the attic. Moving forward I get to work at sorting boxes once more. Luckily all the boxes I already went through were in a neat pile on the far wall. Grabbing the top box I begin to start my search. 

Nothing. It's been an hour and I have come up with nothing. More pictures and boxes all dedicated to first grade to fifth grade of mine Brayden's and Natalie's things. It was starting to irritate me to no end at this. What is the point of going through all of these if it's only my stuff or my siblings stuff? Maybe she moved the box all those years ago after she put it up here? It's been years since I've last seen that dang box; she could have done anything with it. Heck she could have buried it under the porch or something. 

Moving the stupid box to the other growing pile I snatch up one more box. The last for the day, I couldn't handle anything more at the moment if it is just another decoration box. But moving the flap open I'm surprised to see some of my mom's old things. Pictures of her growing up and of us as babies. Old books she used to read, to even some of her journal. 

Flipping open to the front page I begin to read. 

Dear journal, 

I was told to write about my feelings and how everything is going for me. But truth be told I'm not going to pour my heart out to a stupid book. If it wasn't for my therapist I wouldn't even be writing about anything. I would just be on my merry way to school. But my parents refuse to let me leave, they say I need to 'talk' about it, but there is nothing to talk about!  

I made one mistake and BAM! I'm a bad kid you suddenly need to talk about my feelings and what had happened to me and how I can trust this guy with anything because all he wants to do is help. Help! Can you believe this? I don't need help nothing bad happened to me. So what if I rebelled against my parents, all kids do it. I'm seventeen for goodness sakes, it was only one party! It's not the end of the world just because I finally had fun and drank. True I shouldn't have let that guy take me to the room, but at the time hey it was fun and I finally got to live a little, break free of my controlling parents. And from what my friends have told me they said I was the life of the party, I may not remember much of what happened but my friends do. So I will just take their word for it. 

So I guess that's why I'm in therapy. Because I stayed out on a Friday night and went to a party and hooked up with some guy. I came home the next day and was totally blindsided by my parents. They act as if I killed someone of something. They just don't understand all the pressure they force on me. I need to get out of here, got away from these controlling freaks and live my life. 

Gosh I can't wait until I'm eighteen and I can live my own life the way that I want to. Well I think that's enough talk for one night. 

The page ends there, nothing more nothing less. Turning to the next page I was about to read on but a noise behind me made me snap the book shut and turn around. Sasha is standing by the door, her shoulder leaning against the frame as she crosses her arms and stares at me.