Never Lost, Always Found

Chapter Two

 I lay in my bed after I turn away from the window. The ghosts of people float around my room. My heart starts thumping in my chest. I'm afraid of these ghosts. I try to bury my face in pillows and some of the old giant stuffed animals I have, but nothing ever hides the feeling of my anxiety.

I stand up, breathing heavy and hoping I was imagining this. I must be because all I see in my bedroom now is just everything I previously had. Maybe I was just in my head. I walk out of my bedroom, catching the wafting scent of grilled chicken in the dining room. I walk downstairs, wiping the drying tears from my face.

I walk through the hallway and into the dining room, where my mom is setting the table. I sit down and wait for mom to sit down. When she does, I start to nibble on my chicken.

She stares at me like I'm some sort of freak. "So, want to talk about your day?" she asks. "Does it look like it?" I say. It just comes out; it's not intentional. I stare into her eyes, taking a forkful of chicken and shoving at least four pieces in my mouth at once.

"It's always my bad day or my grades you talk about, Mom," I say, trying to explain my feelings to her. She takes it wrong and decides to flip out at me instead. "So what that you had a bad day? When your dad died, I had a terrible few years. I'm still here, aren't I? Now you listen here, I will not raise a terrible daughter. Do you understand me?" she screams. "Yes," I mumble with a mouth full of food.

"Good," she says, sitting back in her chair.

"If only you knew."

"I do know, Paige."

"No, you don't."

"Go to your room."

"No."

"Now."

"I already said no."

Mom points up to where the stairs are. "What did I say? I said now! Listen to me, you brat!" she cries. Tears well in my eyes as I slam the chair to the floor, throw the fork against the wall, and stomp up the stairs. Guess I am as arrogant as she says I am. She only acts nice to play dumb when Benji is around. She doesn't understand me. She never has since Dad died of a drug overdose a few years ago.

Boy, I miss Dad sometimes.

Mom had woken Dad up one morning and told him to take his ADHD medication. He had groggily gotten out of bed, sleep under his eyes, and wandered into the kitchen, pulling out his prescription bottle. He dumped one too many pills onto his hand, and he swallowed them. He fell to the floor a few minutes, unconscious and barely breathing.

Mom called the hospital, and, within minutes, an ambulance had arrived and took Dad to the hospital. He died a few hours later. I was only about six. Mom seems distraught without him, and I would help if I could, but I can't handle seeing her like this. She won't ever listen to me or my problems, and I feel like she doesn't love me somedays.

Maybe she just isn't mean to me. She just is too lost to talk to her daughter.

I walk up the stairs and turn on my phone, which I am charging on my nightstand. I take it off of the stand and turn it on. I text Benji, "Mom's back at it again, telling me off. She lied when you were here. She isn't letting me pour my thoughts out to her."

Benji replies in a minute or so. "Hey, Paige. You might feel better coming over tonight and talking with me." I answer him back with, "I'm sorry, Mom wouldn't allow me anyways." He answers again. "Okay, good night."