I am Chloe

Chapter Two

Hey everyone, sorry for the wait! I'm finally free, sort of. I really hope you enjoy this chapter, for some strange reason my eyes started watering!

Here it goes!

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I reluctantly took a seat at my desk, I heard shrieks a couple of feet away from me. A class mate of mine, started hugging people while holding presents. Today was her birthday.

I suddenly remembered that day. The day I never wanted to remember.

I was turning eight, I never celebrated my birthday, I had thought birthdays and birthday parties were overrated until I went to a one, it was my dad's co-surgeon's daughter's birthday party. I had so much fun that day that I promised myself I'd throw myself a mini-party at my next birthday.

So that day eventually came, I got out all the money I had saved, I got myself two chocolate cupcakes, one frosted with the letter C for me and the other with the letter W for my dad. It cost me all my money.

Once I had gotten the cupcakes from the bakery after school, I ran straight to the apartment. I ran with the biggest smile my face could physically pull off .

I entered the apartment and  searched for Dad in his bedroom with both cupcakes, mine and his in hand, but couldn't find him so I headed to his study room and barged in, not caring that he was studying his eyes out. It was my day today.

"Dad, Dad! Guess what?" I said excitedly, and placed his cupcake on the desk.

At that moment, I wanted to die, I wanted the earth to swallow me.

Dad turned to me, if I hadn't known that the man in front of me my whole life, I would've sworn that he was the devil himself.

"Get out of the room!" 

My eyes started watering, "I'm sorry!"

"Get out!" 

He threw his cupcake in the trash can, and shoved me out of the room.

I stood there, not believing what just happened.

I went to my room, I pinched myself to stop crying. 

"Crybaby, shut up!" I yelled to myself, I dug my head into my pillow and cried and yelled at myself. I threw my cupcake in the trash can.

Then it was dinner time,

Dad and I were sitting at the dining table, making no eye contact at all. I guess we both didn't want to remember the incident. Then I broke the silence.

"Dad?"

"What is it?" Dad asked reluctantly.

"I'm sorry about today," I said, choking up, "it's just that I wanted to celebrate my eighth birthday with you."

Dad looked at me as if someone slapped him. He got up from his seat and left me alone at the dinner table.

Tears streamed down my cheeks.

And that was the last time we had dinner together.

I hate birthdays.