10 Things We've Done (But Probably Shouldn't Have) | C.H

1

I grab my last bag and put it in the backseat. The trunk was full and my last bag couldn't fit.

I close the door and I walk towards the driver's seat. Mom had gave me the car for the summer and told me that she needed a new car anyways and that she could take the bus. I was reluctant about it though.

I put the key in the ignition and pull away. I steer the wheel with my knees as I put my phone on its charger. I turn on the radio and pop punk silently plays. I turn out of Watson Drive and I sigh.

I am going to Florida to see my dad, whom I haven't seen in three years due to my hatred for him.

I am going to Florida to see my stupid stepmother and stupid stepsister.

And I am going to Florida because my mom is making me and I'm stupid enough to do it.

♡ ☪ ♡

I pull into the sunshine state. I want to blow my head off with a bazooka. The GPS on my phone was practically yelling at me to go the route she had planned out for me. But I don't want to. I want to take as long as possible to get to The House of People I Hate And Other Crappy Things.

Unwillingly, I notice my dad's street. The houses were along the beach and they were twice, maybe three times as big as the little house my mom and I are sharing back in Arkansas.

However and despite my unwillingness, I pull into the driveway of 204 Oakwood Street. I groan and turn off the radio. Sitting there in my car, I stared at the house.

The front door flings open, just as I am watching it and Dad, Ava, and Cindy runs out. I brace myself for what's to come.

I take the key out of the ignition and I step out of the driver's seat after pushing the door open.

"Liv! It's so great to see you! My, have you grown!" Cindy exclaims as she pulls me into a hug.

Get her the hell off of me, I think to myself. And why is she being so nice and "motherly"?

"Hi." My greeting was strained. I really hope that Cindy and Ava gets the picture. I don't like them and I don't want to get to know them. I'm only here because of my mom.

"Hey, kiddo," Dad says as he now takes me in for a bear hug.

"Hey." That greeting was strained as well.

My dad has sent me birthday presents and Christmas presents over the two out of the three years I haven't seen him. I still have each one and I've read each letter that came along with it. One year, he didn't send anything. Nothing at all.

When he and my mom divorced when I was eleven, I made this extreme effort to call and text and write letters to him. He never responded to either one. So then, one year went by and I declared my hate for him. Then he moved to Florida and got a new family and left me in the shadows.

"Come on, dear," Cindy says as Dad grabs my bags. "Let's get you inside." She puts her arm around my shoulder and I shrug her off. Not waiting for her reaction, I walk ahead of her, trailing behind Ava.

♡ ☪ ♡

I stand around my new bedroom. It has light green walls and oak wood floors. A white desk -- that holds a shiny Apple laptop and landline -- is placed next to two French doors that leads to the balcony. There is this insane walk-in closet and a king sized bed with a cream duvet.

"Hope you like it," a voice says.

I jump and spin around. I lock eyes with Ava and I sort of glare. I put all my weight on my left foot and cross my arms under my bust (because I am one of those girls that was blessed with a huge bust).