The Puppeteer

Chapter 1

I sit in front of my laptop, staring blankly at the screen as the cursor blinks rapidly, taunting me with its emptiness. My phone is pressed to my ear, and I'm met with the familiar sound of my father's voice, distant and detached.

"Hello, Amelia."

"Hi, Dad," I reply, my tone flat, a mirror reflection of his.

The conversation is always the same, one-sided and one-worded. I can hear the murmur of other male voices in the background, and I roll my eyes in annoyance. My father has always been a powerful, busy man, but he used to make time for me. Over the years, he's slowly slipped further and further away, and now I don't know how to reach him.

I bite my tongue, swallowing the words I want to say. I need attention too, Dad. I need you to see me, to hear me. But I don't know how to convince him of that. It's like I need to set an appointment with him just to have him around.

He sighs, and this time, there's a distinct feminine voice in the background. My stomach tightens, my hand white-knuckling the phone. I try to push the feeling away, but it's hard to ignore.

"Amelia, I'm busy. What do you need?"

I take a deep breath, trying to keep my tone light. "Just calling to say hi, Dad. I haven't talked to you in a while."

There's a pause, and for a moment, I wonder if he's even still on the line. "I'm busy, Amelia. I'll talk to you soon."

I glance at the fireplace mantle, my eyes landing on the photo I placed there of the two of us. We're at Coney Island, and I'm no more than twelve, wearing my favorite purple sunflower dress. My father's arm is around me, and we're both smiling, happy. I wonder when it was that the shift happened. When did he start to pull away?

"Okay, Dad. I love you."

"I love you too, Amelia. Bye."

The line goes dead, and I'm left staring at the phone, feeling empty and unfulfilled. I place it on the coffee table, my eyes drifting back to the photo.

Maybe people never change, and it's only our perceptions that alter the view. Maybe my father was always this way, and I just didn't see it. But I remember the way he used to be, the way he used to make me feel like I was the only person in the world.

I get up from the couch, walking over to the mantle. I pick up the photo, studying it. My father's eyes are smiling, his arm wrapped tightly around me. I feel a pang in my chest, a longing for the way things used to be.

I place the photo back on the mantle, my eyes lingering on it. I wish I could go back to that time, to when my father was my hero, my Batman. But life doesn't work that way. People grow, and things change.

I turn away from the mantle, my eyes falling on the laptop screen. The cursor is still blinking, waiting for me to start typing. I take a deep breath, trying to shake off the feelings of sadness and frustration. I have a story to tell, one that I hope will make my father see me again.

I sit back down, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. I start to type, the words flowing out of me like tears.

"Dad, I need you to see me. I need you to hear me. I'm not just a ghost in the background of your life. I'm your daughter, and I'm fading away."

The words spill out of me, a cathartic release of emotions. I'm not sure if my father will ever read them, but I need to write them. I need to make him understand.

As I type, the cursor blinks rapidly, a reminder that I'm still here, still waiting for my father to see me.

The call ended with a finality that left a bitter taste in my mouth. I stared at the blank screen of my laptop, the cursor still blinking in a mocking rhythm, reminding me of the emptiness that had settled into my chest. Just as I set the phone down, its familiar ding shattered the silence, a jolt of untapped hope spiraling through me. But deep down, I knew it wouldn’t be my father reaching out.

I picked up the phone again, my heart racing, only to find a message from my best friend, Lily. Her name lit up the screen, and I felt a flicker of warmth amidst the coldness that had enveloped me.

The tunnels tonight?

My stomach flipped at the thought. The tunnels—an underground nightclub that pulsed with life, a place where shadows danced and secrets whispered. It was a world away from the suffocating silence of my home, a place where I could lose myself, even if just for a few hours.

I bit my bottom lip, contemplating the invitation. The tunnels were notorious for their dark allure, a labyrinth of pulsating beats and flashing lights that drew in the lost and the broken. But tonight, it felt like an escape I desperately needed.

Sure! I texted back, the exclamation point betraying my excitement.

I could almost hear Lily’s infectious laughter through the screen, her energy a stark contrast to the weight pressing down on me. She had a way of pulling me out of the shadows, of reminding me that life still existed beyond the walls of my father’s empire.