the moral of the story

chapter two: might as well be the end of the world

saturday comes when i wake the next morning. my sleep was dreamless, as per usual. if i do have dreams, they're just about my old friends and my life back in london.

i pull my phone free of its charger and face it towards me to check the time. 11:34. i should probably get up so my parents don't think i'm dead. come to think of it, they probably wouldn't mind if that happened. their problem daughter dies so the perfect one can live.

i walk over to my door and pull it open. i pad down the stairs in my polka-dotted pink and white socks and head to the kitchen. there, i find both my parents speaking in hushed voices. they both stop when they notice my presence. oh god.

"what?" i demand, crossing my arm and sticking my hip out.

neither of my parents speak. they merely share a glance so quick, you'd have to really be paying attention to even notice it. they were talking about me. they had to have been.

"sweetie," my mother is the first one to speak, starting to make her way over to me, "we got an email from your english teacher. she seems to be very worried about you."

oh. so this is what it's about. we're having this conversation again.

"mom, she's crazy, okay. i don't know what she's talking, i swear i'm fine!" i exclaim, my heart beginning to pump a thousand miles an hour against my ribcage.

my parents share another glance. they seriously need to stop doing that, it's really starting freak me out.

"honey," my mother sighs, using her calm 'mom voice' voice with me, "we never even said what the email was about."

my eyes flicker down. shit.

my mom closes her eyes and inhales deeply, followed by a rather long exhale. she then places her hands on each one of my shoulders.

"if i'm being honest, sweetheart, i don't entirely disagree with her concerns." mom says gently.

"what," i croak pathetically, "mom, we've talked about this, and we agreed—"

"no, florence, you agreed." my dad interjects.

i feel my lip naturally curl up at his comment. "since when do you care about my wellbeing, dad? you never even talk to me anymore! you hate me for what i did!"

mom gasps. dad doesn't even seem phased. of course he doesn't.

"how could you say that? florence, of course he loves you! he's your father!" mom exclaims. by how angry she's getting, i can tell that deep down inside her, like deep down, she agrees with me.

"c'mon, for the past year and a half, he's been icing me out! he never even talks to me anymore, and when he does, he looks like he's in physical pain! like he's having a damn hernia or something!" i yell, desperately just wanting my mom to understand.

"david, tell her she's wrong." mom says, crossing her arms and turning to face dad.

dad, however, doesn't say anything. his blue eyes are trained towards the tiled kitchen floor and a sigh released from his lips. go figure. he does actually hate me. who knew.

"it's not that i hate you, florence, i love you." he begins and i brace myself for what he's about to say next. "it's just it seems like you haven't moved on from that whole experience. i mean, you hardly ever leave your room, you don't have any friends, you shut us out—"

"i shut you out?" i cry, feeling an immense amount of rage start to build up inside me. "okay first of all, at least mom's trying with me. she tries to talk to me about my life and everything, but you just...you...don't. and second, you really don't understand kids my age. they isolate me and they tease me. they call me a seductress and a mistress and a slut and a whore and lots of other names, so you know, excuse me if i'm not real eager to talk to them about the guys they hooked up with last night, or the girls they slut-shame for doing the same thing."

my parents look at each other again. again.

"florence, we understand what you went through must've been a little difficult—"

"a little difficult? a little difficult?" i can't do this. "do you know what it's like to have literally the entire world look at you through one perspective and make a judgment of who you are based on that? mom, it sucks. it sucks when you have all these random people who you don't know call you a slut. and i get it, you know. i made a mistake that i knew was wrong from the beginning, but i still went for it. and it still hurts. i didn't expect to become this public enemy before i even reached sixteen. now people are following me around to take photos of me when i haven't even talked to this person in a year and a half. and everyone still cares about what happened. i just wish people would stop."

shit. now i'm really in for it.

mom immediately goes in for a hug that i want nothing to do with. she holds me tight, and even thought she's practically my size, it feels like she might crush me alive. dad stays right where he is, lowering his head, likely to think.

mom pulls away, tears already streaming down her cheeks. i notice her mascara running, kinda making her look like a panda. i think about voicing this, but i decide against it. it's not the time.

"oh sweetie," mom coos, cradling my head in her tiny hands, "why didn't you tell us any of this?"

i already want to die. "it's nothing. it'll go away."

mom shakes her head. "no, flo. it's not nothing. you're right. you're completely right. people are holding onto this too much. and i know it must be hard to move on when people are always reminding you. which is why we want to help you."

no no no no no no no. no thanks. nope. nopity nope nope. nada. i'm good. no. i'm great. thanks but no thanks. i could really do without their help.

"now, before you say no, i want you to think about this—"

"hmm..." i cut her off. "there. i thought about it. no." i say.

"florence, we want you to start doing something. it's not good for you to just sit up there in your room all day. it's not healthy." she says. funny how quiet dad's being.

"mom—"

"no, don't give me that!" mom finally snaps. shit. i'm really in for it now. "i can't sit back and watch you destroy your life anymore! no more feeling sorry for yourself, florence. i love you, you're my child, and i love you. i won't do nothing anymore. this path that you're going down...i don't like it. every decision i make is about the wellbeing of you, and that's exactly that i'm doing now; looking out for you. i just want my baby girl back."

her words start to sink in. maybe she's right. maybe to finally move on from this whole mess, i need to find something that makes me happy. maybe then people will let me move on. but don't get me wrong, i'm really only considering this to get my parents off my back. i like our relationship best when i isolate myself and they don't bug me.

"what do you mean do something?" i ask with a heavy sigh.

"i don't know, take an art class. finally get your driver's permit. you've always had a lovely voice, take some singing lessons. anything. i just need you to be okay. because i'm afraid of what you'll do if this continues." mom says. when she speaks, i can't help but notice how broken she sounds.

she thinks i'm gonna be damn suicidal. she thinks i'm really gonna kill myself. i could never do that. i don't have the guts. if i did, maybe she's right. i probably would've been gone and off this earth a damn long time ago.

"please." mom begs one last time. her voice breaks. the amount of tears down her face are countless.

how can i say no now?

"ugh whatever. fine." i sigh with a roll of my eyes.

giving in is better than the alternatives; mom always staring at me with these eyes like i'm about to get hit by a car or something. and my father just with those looks...i can't imagine him looking at me like that forever. he can't, can he?

i guess that's good enough for her, since it warrants a smile and a bear hug that almost suffocates me from her. my dad decides it's a good idea for him to join in too, so that's how i ended up standing in kitchen at 11:44 in the morning, with both my parents acting as if if they'd let go of me, then i'd kill myself.

maybe they're right.