That Girl Maddie

3

A/N
Hiiiii guys, been a while ey? So I only ever published like 2 chapters of this story and then I disappeared. Truth is I didn't mean to, but some shit went down and I kind of had to stop for a while (more like a year Rosie but ok). Anyways things are fiiinally back to normal and I do actually want to continue this story because I still think it can be really fun. So basically don't hate me, I hope you missed me cuz I missed you and let's keep going.
I love you, be safe and keep reading<3
/ Rosie

Maddie

The drive to the professor's house was long, too long if you ask me. It took a total of 2 hours and 43 minutes, I counted every single one of them since I refused to say a single word to my mother during the whole drive. I was still pissed at her, furious actually but I knew not to argue, it was pointless. I've had it coming for a while I guess, the day she would finally cave in and side with Dean that helping me was pointless and sending me away to let me be someone else's problem was just easier. To be honest, it kinda hurt to know that she didn't want to deal with me anymore, I was her only daughter after all. I used to be her pride and joy, she constantly used to tell me that. How proud she was that she had a daughter like me and that she would love me until the day she died, and even after. But then one day, on the day before my 11th birthday it all changed. My father had come home at night high out of his mind and they had gotten into one of their worst arguments ever. I still don't know exactly what had happened that night, all I can remember is hearing their yelling from downstairs as I played in my bed trying to sleep and tune out their voices. I was used to them arguing and yelling, occasionally someone would throw something and Id lay there and listen to the sound of glass crashing and my parents swearing. I would always just lay there and try to tune out their voices, convincing myself that when I wake up they're gonna be back to normal and happy. That's how it always went, the morning after they would always just act as if nothing had happened, at least in front of me. So that's what I convinced myself the night before my 11th birthday, that when I wake up there would be presents waiting for me at the breakfast table where my parents would sit sipping their tea together.

That wasn't the case though. There weren't any presents waiting at the breakfast table, the mess from the previous argument still noticeable. Chattered class still on the floor and at the breakfast table sitting alone with her head in her hands, my mother. I remember how I asked her where my father was, not understanding why he wasn't there. She just told me that someone had to come and take him away and that he wouldn't be coming home for a little while. I always knew my father had issues but I never really understood why and what they were. I knew he was a drug addict, as I got older that part wasn't so hard to figure out but at the time my 11-year-old self couldn't possibly understand why he wasn't there to celebrate my birthday with me.

At the time my father was my best friend. I had a hard time making friends in school and the kids my age were either scared of me or just thought I was weird. I never seemed to mind though, I had my father and that was all I needed. We did everything together and we always had fun doing it. He has always been one of those people who just never seemed to have a care in the world, always the life of the party. That's what I love about him the most, he was reckless and quite stupid but he always had fun. But just like the rest of us, he had his bad days. And unfortunately, his bad days, even though there never seemed to be that many of them, were worse than his good days. I never focused on them though, when I thought about him I always chose to focus on his good days, it was just easier that way.

A little over a week after my 11th birthday my mother finally took me to see him. He was locked up at a rehab centre outside of the city. I was only allowed to see him for a short while in an empty hospital looking room, but I didn't care that much, I got to meet him at least. He hugged me and explained to me how he wasn't well and how the kind people at the rehab centre could help him be better again. He promised me he would be home in just a few months and then we left him there, my 11th birthday completely forgotten by everyone.