The Prodigal daughter

Part one

'Today is the day', I thought to myself as I stumbled out of bed. I turned to my square illuminated digital clock that was filling my room with an awful loud buzzing sound, reminding me that it was time to get myself ready. Once I switched off my alarm clock, I forced myself to my feet and dragged them towards the window, grabbing at the black silk curtains that were keeping the light from invading my room. As I looked out the window, a feeling of dread suddenly consumed me. It was still dark outside and winter was coming way too soon. Once inside the bathroom, all I felt was the piercing cold floor tiles on my bare feet. I grabbed my hair brush and started to comb my long curly chestnut hair and splashed some ice cold water on my face to take away the redness taking over my eyes. I glared at myself in the huge clear mirror hanging on the wall, I asked myself if I was being naive for believing today was going to be the day my father would finally open up to me and stop pushing me away.

Finally, I finished getting ready and grabbed my school bag from under my study desk and went down to the kitchen. It was no shock to me that my father was already up before me and left for work. He was avoiding me. This happened almost everyday but it hurt even more today, as today was the anniversary of my Mother's death. Today was Friday the 21st of October. Exactly one year ago today, my mother died as a result of a car accident. This past year had been hard on me and my father and I could never have imagined that he would shut me out, but he did and it made getting over the loss of my mother one hundred times harder. Being a seventeen year old teenager was hard enough without all the problems that were happening at home. I have always been a good student in school, kept my results up and been a very loyal and kind person to my friends but now things were different. I was different. I felt my father blamed me for the death of my mother and that was why he was shutting me out. He would always stay late at the office and appear home when I was in bed for school and leave even earlier in the morning again. This tore me apart inside feeling my own father didn't love me or want to spend any time with me, I felt abandoned by the only person in this world who should always be there for you no matter what.

I suddenly jumped at the sound of my phone beeping. It was a text from Dad. "Harper had to rush off to work, your money is on the coffee table". Irritated that he had now resorted to communicate with me through a brief text message, I grabbed my school money from the coffee table and slammed the front door nearly taking it of its hinges. I was furious, bitter and grief-stricken.
Outside, I felt the cool October air, cool my anger. 'That's it' I thought. I am going to get my father's attention one way or another!