An Unhealthy Crave [H.S]

1 | Withered

Lilith
___________________

I was pretty young when I realized that flowers bloom and eventually wither. Love peaks and eventually fades.

I always compared my mother to a flower and my father as the sun who'd aid her blooming. I remember as a child how dependent they were on one another, my father would shine rays of sunshine down upon her in praise, he'd provide her stem with nourishment for her to blossom, and when the sun went down to rest and the moon appeared in return- the moonlight still shined for her. In other words, he did anything and everything for her.

Love is blinding, and in such a lust state he never realized how one-sided the relationship was. Emotional exhaustion was what yanked my father out of his trance and it was then, that he no longer shined upon her.

A withered flower my mother became, her petals fell, her stem drooped, and the beautiful fragrance she gave off became rotten.

A fucking Narrsist on steroids she became.

I didn't notice it in the early stages of my childhood. I mean, of course, I didn't, I was a child on ceaseless fantasy quests, high on my worry-free life. I was oblivious to the thought that my parents' relationship could be destructive, or self-destructing for that matter. My only problems were the relationships between my barbies and the boys on the playground who'd pull my ponytails to tease me.

It was my adolescent stage when I slowly started questioning myself on their relationship, the muffled arguing that I'd hear through the thin walls at midnight, the deathful glares my parents would give each other at the dinner table, and the late-night trips down the hall to see if my dad was sleeping in the guest bedroom again, it soon advanced to him not even coming home at all.

When I was 14, my dad had an affair with the woman who delivered the daily mail, she was literally a delivered fuck, he was desperate and it showed. I wasn't surprised when I found out, I knew their marriage was already six feet under, and that they were still together "for me". In all honesty, I would've been better off with them apart. I was exposed to so much toxicity. My mother was emotionally, mentally, and physically abusive towards my father. He on the other hand took it like the man he was, never laid a hand on her, never manipulated her in any way.

He soaked up all her poison willingly.

That's just who he was, selfless.

I'd say 11 was the age when my eyes that once held a sparkle of admiration towards my parents, darkend. The kitchen that held sweet memories of baking cookies, turned to the place where my mom would throw princess house plates at my dad. The living room that once held cozy movie nights was soon overridden with traumatic scenes that I had to unwillingly witness at such a young age...

My mother made us move after the scandal, which was pretty hypocritical cause I know damn well she was getting dicked down, thin walls... Traumatizing, I know. We moved to California a few months after just in time for the start of freshmen year. I was ripped from my settled life back home and thrown back into a pit of teenagers that hated the world, and everyone in it, Mountain Cove Hig-