Taken 2

02

Sometimes I think to myself:

Was it the right choice to leave?

I feel incomplete, like I need him again.

This doesn't feel right.

I feel so alone.

But then I ask myself, do I really want him? Or is this just an obsession? An obsession to get revenge.

Suddenly my mom storms into the room interrupting my thoughts, "Hey you. Tessa and Eric are downstairs looking for you."

"Tell them I'm about to leave for work," I said sitting up.

She didn't reply for a while, only leaned against the door, "Why don't you want to see them?"

I'm afraid to face reality since I've been in this huge lie for three months already. "Shouldn't I be grounded?"

"Why would you be grounded?"

"Well I ran away, for almost six months, any mother would ground their child," I said.

"Any mother. But I am not any mother," she said before closing the door.

She won't ground me because she knows I didn't run away. I know she thinks something else happened, she knows there's more to the story than me running away with Aaliyah.

I sighed yet again for the umpteenth time today; it seems like that's all I ever do. I got up, dragging my feet across the wooden floor, I make my way towards the door looking over at my sisters empty bed. I open the door and make my way downstairs.

"Felicity, what a surprise, glad you decided to get out of your room and spend some time with your family who hasn't seen you in a long time," my mother said as she cut up vegetables for tonight's dinner, making a loud noise when her knife hit the cutting board.

I walked over to the refrigerator. Grabbing the orange juice and popping the cap off, I chug almost half the container down.

I hear my mom's knife stop. When I turn to look at her, her eyes are focused on me. I put the cap back on the orange juice and put it back into its place before going back upstairs to my room.

At dinner, we sit, like a sad little family eating in silence. Aaliyah's seat is empty and we don't say anything about it.

"How's work going hun?" My dad asks.

"Good, I get really good tips," I say in all honesty.

I've been working at a restaurant downtown called Redbird for the past three months and I've been earning a lot of money. I get on average about one hundred dollars worth of tips per day since Redbird is a restaurant for the higher class. Many people leave around fiften dollars and I tend to get around about twenty tables a day if not more. The most I've gotten was seventy for a table of ten; I guess it was some work dinner since they were all fancily dressed.

"That's good," my dad replied.

After that, the table went silent again. No one said anything and my mom's stares were giving me a bit of anxiety. Once I finished eating I quickly excused myself and washed my dishes before my mom asked something.

I made my way up to my bedroom and sat on my bed. I took a book out from my bookshelf and started reading.

A knock on the door startled me, "Can I come in?"

"Sure," I replied putting my book down and rubbing my hands up and down my thighs. Please no questions mom.

"Hey," she said walking closer to me.