It was around 2:00 when the doorbell rang. Ethan left my room and I took to reading a book. I only read about twenty words before there was a knock at my door. Without thinking what I looked like, my eyes red and puffy from crying, I opened the door.
"What?" I asked her irritated.
"There are police officers here to see you," She told me, scowling. Sighing, I trudged down the steps and sat across from two policemen who were sat at our dining room table.
"Ellie Cartwright?" The first one, with sandy blond hair and dark brown eyes asked. He gave me a small smile when I nodded.
The other, an old round man who was balding and had grey eyes spoke up, "I'm officer Mitchell, and this is my partner Detective Jones."
Detective Jones spoke up, "I'm afraid the girl you notified us today that had been shot is now deceased. This is no longer an attack -- it's a murder case. We'll need your full and official statement, Miss Cartwright."
A tear slipped down my cheek as he told me the girl died. I wiped it from my face before nodding, "Of course. Anything to find her murderer."
My voice cracked at the end of my sentence.
They asked me questions, drilling me senseless as to what I had seen, if there was anyone who would want to harm her, how well I knew her, what kind of a social group was she in. I answered their questions to the best of my ability.
Finally, by 6:00 the officers decided they had enough information and left, thanking step-monster for her time and cooperation on the way out. I walked up the stairs, emotionally and physically drained from a day full of questioning.
I plopped down on my bed, burying my face in the pillow. I felt bad, guilty almost. Why had this happened, especially to a sweet girl like her? I sighed for the billionth time today as there was a soft and hesitant knock on my door.
"Come in," I called out in a monotone voice.
The bed dipped and I looked over to see my dad. Shock was the only thing that could register. He gave me a weary smile, "Hey, kid. I'm sorry, really, about what happened to your friend."
I shrugged, "It's life."
"Your mother told me how you treated her this morning," He said after a moment of silence.
My body noticeably stiffened, "Don't call her that. She's not my mother."
"if you keep thinking that way, then she definitely won't be," He told me, his voice edging.
I glared at him and sat up, "Why do you suddenly care? Why do you now for once in two years look at me and think 'Oh, maybe I should talk to her.'? Why the hell are you now finally giving a damn about me!? About Ethan? Did you ever think how we felt about you marrying another woman so soon! You left us alone!" I was shouting by now. He opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off, "Just get out! I haven't needed you in two years, so I don't see why I'd suddenly need you now. Okay, so just go back to pretending that Ethan and I don't exist and loving that bitch you call a wife."
"You, were a mistake," He spat at me before exiting the room and slamming the door behind him. I didn't even flinch, unlike the house which shook like an earthquake.
Why does everything have to be so complicated?
Tears silently fell from my face when I curled into a ball on my bed, my pillow comforting me. I closed my eyes, wishing for a better life than this. Wishing for anything better than this bullshit excuse. But as usual, I'm in too deep for a little help.
So I laid there and cried my heart and soul out for the second (or third) time today. I didn't really know, I had lost track, already. A quote ran through my mind all day today. "I may seem strong, but I break."
The quote couldn't be any truer.
I heard Ethan knock on my door around ten at night. I didn't answer. I heard him say before saying goodnight and shuffling away. Faintly, I could make out Joanna and my father laughing downstairs. Enjoying themselves, pretending I didn't even exist.
What if I didn't? What if I just laid here and never woke up? Never came back? What if.
The tears continued to fall, though I made no effort to stop them. Because over the years I've learned that when you're strong, you'll have weak moments. And in those weak moments, you just have to let it all out. Realize how you actually feel and try to make sense of it. But at this point, all I could make sense of was that my father hated me.
It was that night, for the second time in my life, I fell asleep crying.
∞
YOU ARE READING
Ellie
Novela Juvenil"Elliot Cartwright, will you be my girlfriend?" He asked me, down on one knee. He held a dozen white roses and had hope plastered on his face. His smile was dazzling and he looked like a frickin' Hollister model in this moment. But then, everything...
