Torneró

24

Sylvie's POV:

My phone chimes, forcing me awake as it lays ringing by my side. I let it ring until the vibrations stop. I shut my eyes again, hoping they stay closed this time. Yet, my prayers are ignored as the sound begins again. 

Stupid fucking phone, I hope you enjoy drowning under the toilet piss.

I throw the blanket off my body and force my upper body up, instantly regretting it as the blood rushes from my head and my eye sight turns black. I feel lightheaded, before I eventually return to my regular state again. I grab the phone from the table in front of me, the number is unknown and foreign, +33, from France. I slide my finger over the answer button, pressing the phone to my ear. 

"What the fu-" I begin, yet I'm interrupted by a man's voice on the other line. "Petite fille, is everything okay?" my father's voice flies out of the speaker and into my ear. "Oh, hi" I respond, clearing my throat, "yes, I'm okay" I add. "You sound tired, did you just wake up?" he asks me, "well, yes" I answer, "Sylvie it's five o'clock in the afternoon. You should have been awake half a day ago".

Half a day?

"Dad, I was just taking a nap. Did you need anything?" I question, growing agitated at his comments towards my sleeping schedule. "Yes dear, I would like to meet you today" he informs me. I look down at my messy hair and wrinkled clothing, then around at my apartment which looks as if it had been flipped upside down. "I'll come to your place, yes?" he suggests, "no, no. I'll meet you. Where should I come?" I decline, refusing to allow him to see my apartment in this state for the first time. "Same restaurant as last time?", I agree with him and jump into the shower. 

***

I step into the luxurious, expensive restaurant, feeling severely underdressed in my white nike hoodie and blue jeans. My hair sits in a loose bun on top of my head, still slightly damp from my shower and my face naked with a lack of makeup. "Sylvie, fille, are you okay?" My father rests his hand around my arm as he approaches me from behind, causing me to turn around and look him in his face.

My eyes are still puffy from what feels like the decades of crying for my loss, "yeah" I respond, lowering my gaze to his polished, black shoes. "Come, lets sit" he announces, escorting me to a small, circular brown table with a chair on opposite sides. I take a seat in the chair, lifting my hand up to brush a fallen strand of hair from my face. 

"Now, tell me Sylvie. What is wrong?" he questions me, I lift my eyes to his. Groaning in frustration when I notice the determination swinging through them, he's not going to let this go. 

"Well, my boyfriend, Carter broke up with me yesterday" I finally admit, his face holds an element of shock, though he quickly covers it up with concern. "How are you dealing with this, dear?" he asks, leaning towards me slightly to prove that he is interested. "Well," I gesture my hands towards my body, highlighting everything wrong with me. 

At least the messed up he could physically see.

"Sylvie, you are my daughter" he states

Really? I thought I was your dog.

"You must not let a foolish boy like this Carter break you." His French accent intensifies as the sentence progresses, " You are my little girl, you are stronger then this and you are better than him in every way, shape, and form" he adds, lifting his hand to my shoulder as he brings himself closer to me.

"You remind me of your mother, your eyes. They are open, warm, and very easy to understand. You must hide this. You must hide your pain, and this boy will come to regret everything", he releases his hand from my shoulder and leans back against his chair.