The perfect storm in a quiet room

Chapter 53

HANNAH

April finally has arrived and there's only one week to go before going back to school, which doesn't excite me in the least. I'm fine being alone at home, writing and reading like the bookworm I am and not socializing at all. I'm in paradise, actually.

I read two books and wrote three short stories last week and every time my fingers met the keys of my keyboard, I felt safe and happy. I felt like I had finally found my true purpose. I felt as if that was exactly what I'm supposed to do for the rest of my life—just write, read and create. 

When I wasn't reading and writing, I was looking for my dad. I searched through his Instagram and Facebook, but it seems like he doesn't use those anymore because the latest photos he published were in two thousand eighteen, four years ago. I even searched his name on google to see if his photo or at least a bit of information came up, but again, I hit a dead end.

I even entertained the idea of calling him or calling my grandma or aunt to see if they knew something about him. However, I immediately decided against it since I was positive none of them would have answered me. I even got out of my house just to try to find him walking on the streets or maybe at the supermarket or at a store. But no luck so far.

So, as you can see, I haven't made any progress yet, which bums me out a bit. However, I will keep trying. I have to, otherwise I will never get answers and I will never... see my dad. I need to keep trying till I can locate him and talk to him. I bet he's dying to see me as much as I do.

A toothless smile ficklers across my face as I recall the happy moments I spent with my dad... He was such a good dad... he was always there for me, loving me, caring for me and I think the love and affection he felt for me was the reason I was able to get through my horrible childhood. Although, sometimes he would leave me crying in a corner and go to talk to my mom, but somehow, I always suspected my mom was behind that because as soon as he moved a few inches away from me, he gave me a compassionate look, showing me how much he cared for me and how sorry he was for leaving my side.

"I miss you so much, dad," I softly say, imagining my dad is here with me, pulling me to his chest and wrapping his arms around me tightly.

***

The door flies open and my mom comes in, carrying a bunch of plastic bags. She appears to be coming from the supermarket, which is great since I'm starving to death.

I get up from my seat and rush to help her. As soon as my hand grasps one of the bags, she gives me an angry glare so I immediately release them and go back to my spot. I rest my elbows on the table and sigh deeply. I just wanted to help, so I don't know why she's so hostile with me. Well, I do know, I'm just... disappointed.

"Did you bring something for dinner?" I ask her, while she starts filling the fridge with the stuff she bought.

She doesn't even flinch or look at me. And I roll my eyes and grit my teeth. I'm so irritated by her attitude and the fact that I know she behaves like this purposely pushes my buttons even more.

"Mom, I asked you a question," I crossly say.

She stops filling the fridge with food and turns back to face me. Her eyes settle on me and I shiver at her cold look. Gosh why is she always like this? Can't we have just one quiet day?

"I heard you," she simply says, a bit annoyed and then continues with her former activity.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Relax Hannah, just relax.

I already miss living in a hotel. It was so quiet, so simple. It was... perfect.

"Mom, what are we gonna eat? I'm starving. Did you buy something for dinner?" I ask once again, grasping her arm in an attempt to call her attention. She shoots me a sudden glare when my hand touches her arm and I cringe. Sometimes, when she looks at me like this I can't help but think I'm being raised by a monster rather than a forty-five-year-old woman.

"You're not gonna eat anything," she says, smiling when the last word comes out of her mouth.

What the fuck? She's fucking crazy.

"I'm sorry?" I ask, hoping I've heard her wrong.

"You heard me, you're not eating. Not until you start behaving like a normal person and stop getting into trouble! Get your shit together and then you can eat," she firmly says and a dash of pride can be seen in her.

"What?! Are you fucking crazy? How can you say that? I'm your daughter, you know that, don't you? Because sometimes you seem to forget about that and treat me like a piece of shit. But I'm not the piece of shit," I pause before saying the following harsh words, "you are." I move away from her, grab my jacket and head to the door. "And don't worry, I'm gonna have dinner in a nice restaurant, without you," I slam the door behind me and leave the house gritting my teeth and cursing under my breath.