Love Me {Sequel To Last Hope}

Chapter Twenty One-Mummy & Daddy

"Perhaps family itself, like beauty, is temporary, and no discredit need attach to impermanence." - Gregory Maguire, A Lion Among Men

T E L L I E

When I was a child, I had one thought that used to occur constantly; what if mummy and daddy loved each other? It was a constant thought of what if. What if my mother hadn't died, what if I grew up with parents who were married, or even divorced in good terms, what if I got the life that I wanted?

I never thought I would get any kind of knowledge into what that would be like. Until now.

My mother likes to keep things public. I think she thought the chances of anything bad happening were decreased by going into public places. And my father partially agreed. I was bought over with iced chocolates. From both sides.

It began a little humorous to me. It was some cafe or something, and my parents looked at each other stone cold. They sat across from each other and I was next to my father because I liked to glare at my mother. Though I wished I didn't have to look at her. I was still cursing over the fact my mother looked like a beauty queen and I didn't. Why had genetics decided to screw me up? My parents both put me through hell, still are pushing me to my limits, come on, the least they could do was give me good genes. I could have been hot.

My parents addressed each other slyly.

"Louis."

"Bitch."

Not exactly my eight year old thoughts. But what else did I expect?

My mother just looked plainly. Didn't even bother her a bitch. Then she looked to me. "I'm a little ashamed of you." She admitted. It was still morning. Maybe Eleven at the latest. I didn't bother checking my phone. I kept my sunglasses down, my hair back, and I wished I had worn long sleeves. I was wearing a tank top, but I had stupidly forgotten any bracelets. I may have tattoos on my wrists, but you could still see the outlines. On my left wrist you could see the scars begin to climb up my forearm past the tattoo. And Phoebe glanced at them. And I felt overcome.

"Your nineteen," she continued, "do you really need Daddy to come and stand up for you?"

I was sipping my iced chocolate. But I lowered the straw just to answer. "You think I wanted him to do anything? I didn't even tell him you were alive. I was fine with-"

"Tellie shut up." Dad cut in. I moved my gaze go him. His theory was I should just not bother talking when it came to my mother. He seemed to think I would become an emotional wreck. I didn't understand why. Me? Cristell Jayde Tomlinson? An emotional wreck? Maybe there was a point to that...

"That's no way to speak to our daughter Louis." Phoebe mused. He looked ready to kill.

"My daughter. There is no our." He drawled. "She's my daughter. You lost any right you had to call her your daughter when you killed yourself. She's mine, and Eleanor's. Not yours."

"Eighteen hours of labour."

"Sixteen years of hell."

"Nine months of pregnancy."

"I had to had to psychically stop her from killing herself once a week. Are you really going to tell me gaining some weight was harder than that?"

I cut in. "I feel slightly offended right now." I said. Phoebe was the only one to look at me. Dad just kept his glare.

"You should." Phoebe said bluntly. "You must have noticed that neither of want you right? That's the only thing we actually agree on."

Dad looked even more ready to get out of his seat and punch her. "Do you mind not saying those things to my child?" He asked sourly. "She's only nineteen and finally doesn't need medication to stop herself from commuting."