As I got out of the car, I had to stop myself from looking back at my dad. I wanted to, I wanted to see his face; know how he was feeling. I wanted him to be remorseful, upset, and hurt.
I wanted him to get out of the car and hug me, saying that everything would be okay and that I didn’t have to worry – we’d sort everything out.
I wanted him to follow me, or refuse to leave until we made up and started talking again. I wanted him to apologise to me.
I wanted to apologise to him. But, as his car sped past me, I realised that all hope for that was gone…at last for a few days. It killed me to think that he thought I hated him or something.
It hurt knowing that he drove off as quickly as that. I knew I hadn’t exactly made it clear that I didn’t want him to, but at the same time I wanted him to love me enough to do it without any indication from me.
It was at that moment when I realised just how alone I was, and began to feel more isolated than ever. I was limping back to a house where I hated being.
I wasn’t all that close to my mum, Derrick was a total prick and part of me just really wanted my dad. But I had probably blown all chances.
I began to wish that neither of them had been cheating, and that we could just go back to the way things were at the beginning – when I had first arrived back in Huntington Beach.
They weren’t as perfect a couple as I had thought, but they seemed happy in their own way.
I began to realise that my hope for a normal family was slowly dissipating, and that my hope for a stable, loving home environment was getting smaller and smaller. I knew my mum wasn’t a bad person, she just didn’t do very well for herself.
I limped for the rest of the way home, and surprisingly it didn’t take me very long to figure out where the house was, where I actually lived, and that my mum wasn’t particularly happy when she saw me arrive home.
I had very clearly interrupted some intimate time between her and Derrick, and he didn’t seem too happy either.
I smiled weakly, opening the door to the living room where they were sitting – or rather lying – on the sofa, too engrossed in each other to notice that I had even arrived home.
I cleared my throat calmly, waiting for one of them to pull away from the other’s face and acknowledge that I had arrived home.
My mum was the first to look up, frowning slightly at me as she did so.
“I thought you were sleeping at your aunt Michelle’s” she declared with a hint of annoyance in her voice.
I shook my head, limping further into the living room. “There was an incident.”
She rolled her eyes, sitting up off of the sofa and standing up, looking at me. “What sort of incident?” she asked with an exasperated tone, clearly pissed off that I had returned home that night.
“Dad was there” I stated, avoiding her eye contact as I felt my eyes begin to fill at the memory of what had just happened. I didn’t want it to affect or upset me, and I didn’t want her to see me that way.
“What did he say to you?”
“Nothing, really” I sighed, ambiguously.
“Well?” she asked again, trying to get more information out of me even though I clearly did not want to divulge anything else.
“I argued with Midge over my relationship with him and-”
“Why are you crying?” she interjected sympathetically, making her way closer towards me. “And what?”
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I Know it's Hurting You, But it's Killing MeFanfiction
Imagine living with a family inwhich you are completely different. Imagine you come home one day to find a man telling you that you may have the wrong parents. Charlotte is whisked away by a social worker and is immersed into an unfamiliar world of...