In Love With My Mom's New Toyboy

Two

This is not your cliché love story- there are certainly more winding paths with unexpected surprises

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Arm hanging over the edge of my pull-out bed, I felt around for my phone seeing as Pink's So What blared out to signal my alarm had activated. Eyes blurry from lack of sleep didn't help matters when I checked my text messages and Facebook notifications. John Farnley sent you a friend request. Missy Hirst commented on your post. Louis Green posted on your wall. Brett Onyx poked you. I just couldn't be bothered with it all this morning.

Checking my texts, I found my best mate, Liza, had sent me a new message. Opening up the conversation, I saw her reply: Hope he gets run over by a bus, eaten my man-eating mice and pooed on by my terrier. Oh, I love her to bits. She's the sister I never had but always wanted. A couple of weeks beforehand, I got a call from an unknown number. Answering, I heard grunting, moaning but, most importantly, I heard my -now ex -boyfriend calling out a girl's name I despised more than anything. "Oh Felicity, God Almighty."

Putting down the phone, I had sent him one quick text- Hope she was good in the sack :/

Distraught and heartbroken, I had rang up Liza who'd cursed and screamed profanities at him when he came home to his house. That's right. My best friend's older brother broke my heart. It was foolish of me to believe it would be just like the stories I read on Wattpad, when the epilogue is five years later and they're married with two kids and another on the way. I wanted that...it was just too far out of my reach.

So here I am, perfecting my foetal position, whilst continuing to text Liza. She loved her brother but she'd warned him from the start; mess with her best friend and she'd serve him his balls on a silver platter. Looking around my room, I stared at the picture of me standing, arms wide, beneath the biggest-and oldest- oak tree in the whole of Mississippi.

My inky black hair falling in loose curls around my waist, indigo eyes shining with wonder and surprise as my mouth couldn't contain the grin forming on my face. Leaves were slowly drifting around my stationary figure and I couldn't help but grin now as I looked at the photo. That was the last picture my dad took before he was diagnosed with prostrate cancer. The last picture before he was bedridden and spewing nonsense due to the drugs. The last picture before he died on my thirteenth birthday.

The tears began trickling out from my eyes and down my cheeks. That slow trickle became a river and the tears kept flowing, not letting up anytime soon. I couldn't believe it. Tomorrow it would be the first day of my senior year at Holden Community High School, -or HCHS for short- my eighteenth birthday and the fifth anniversary of my dad's passing. Five years. Five years pain and loss and loneliness.

I'm not afraid to admit that I was a daddy's girl. If I ever wanted something, it wasn't my mom I went to but my dad. I wanted a puppy when I was seven; my dad went and bought me a yapping Chihuahua which my mom hated. I wanted my own TV when I was ten; he got it me the next day. I wanted to my dad to be given a second chance at life after he was diagnosed. Unfortunately, I new my luck would run out soon...and it did. He died the day after I wished on a shooting star.

That day was my thirteenth birthday and daddy's princess had finally grown up. I didn't open my presents, I didn't eat a bit of the buffet spread out for me and I didn't make a wish as I blew out the candles on my cake. Wishing was for those with hope, those who could afford it. Wishing was also for the gullible and the weak. Ever since my dad died, I've become a hard, outer-shell that could deal with what life threw at me. Everything but the break-up.