Runaway Bride

Chapter 25-Chelsie

Italics are flashbacks

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I sighed as Louis drove, thinking about that night my father left...

I rubbed my eyes and sat up, glancing at my bedside clock I had gotten recently. It told me that it was only one o’clock in the morning.

I shook my head and glanced at my door, it was slightly opened. I was confused since I had been the last to go to bed and had closed my door. I got out and crept slowly to the door.

I looked out into the upstairs hallway, looking for a sign of what the culprit who opened it had been doing.

I saw the entryway light on, but it was very dim. I heard footsteps and as quietly as I could, I made my way over to the banister.

I peered down, having to rub my eyes because it was a strain to see when there was very little light.

I had always had perfect sight, and was so thankful for that, but in that moment, I wished I was a super hero.

Being able to see clearly what was happening would have saved my family and me a lot of trouble.

I finally was able to see what was down there. I saw my father, whom I hadn’t even known was home, holding a suitcase.

My brows scrunched up. He usually was home for at least twenty-four hours before he left for work again. It was so hard on all of us, with him having a job that called him away from home.

I didn’t even know what he did. I just knew that he was gone a lot and that his job wasn’t up for discussion.

He looked different than he usually did when leaving for one of his work trips. He usually was happy, a smile on his face as he kissed each of us good bye.

This time, he seemed as if something was bothering him. Like he was going somewhere, not knowing his fate ahead of him.

I watched over the banister as he left. I crept outside behind him, opening and shutting the front door as gently as possible.

I was confused when he got into a limo. He usually took his own car. I watched as he drove away, not looking back.

I cried. I cried and cried and cried.

I didn’t know it at the time, but I knew something in my gut was telling me it was different, and the crying was going to last.

I was out there for almost an hour before I decided to head back inside my home.

I walked into the kitchen, grabbing a class of water and taking a big gulp to moisten my dry throat.

I was still crying as I put my glass in the dishwasher and took a seat at the kitchen table. I rested my face in my crossed arms on the table.

I shook my head and stood up, determined to get over it, because he would be back when the trip was over and everything would be swell.

I got up and began to go up the stairs, but I could not see very well since my eyesight was all blurry from the tears.

I tripped and fell down the stairs, hitting my head extremely hard. I didn’t cry out, because I physically couldn’t. I could barely see, I could only hear a ringing noise, and when I tried to talk, nothing came out.

I climbed up the stairs, barely able to do even that, and got into bed, crying myself to sleep.

I woke up the next day, feeling a bit better. I could talk, I could hear, the only thing wrong was my eyesight was still blurry and my head hurt like a bitch.

Ever since then, I needed glasses.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

very short, but an emotional reasoning for something simple, and it is kind of a symbol of her dad leaving impairing her life