My Other Half

CHAPTER NINE

"Guy best friends talk when something needs to be said, fight when you need to be protected, love you no matter what clothes you wear, hug you when you need comfort, and aren't supposed to leave when you need them the most.

But, he did leave.

And now after being with him again, I wonder how I lived without him."

«VALERIA'S POV»
CHAPTER NINE

When I was eight, two years after my parents became wealthy, I was known around our household for being ludic and adventurous. 
Even before we moved to Florida I was playful and drastically differed with my present self.

I'd gotten in trouble numerous times at my preschool in New York for sneaking out of class and being a rebellious child. My parents and staff had told me stories of the times they'd almost called the police because I'd decided to take a walk around our neighborhood without permission or behaved sneakily.

This was before I met Violet and Samantha. When I made new friends in the sixth grade, my popularity commenced.

Before my parents relationship became rocky and we started bonding less, My father had decided that I needed something to entertain me, somewhere where I would never get bored. A place just for us.

My father had put a great amount of thought into the idea before he consulted me. I remember what he'd told me the first day we actually started planning it.

"It'll be great, kiddo!"

"It's gonna be our secret hide out."

"Making it will be a memorable moment and being in it will be too."

What I hadn't known was that making it would be one of our last moments together.

A couple of months after the treehouse was made, my father started directing new movies and focusing more on his career. Him and my mother spent less time together and mom created her chain of shops as a diversion.

Violet began caring about her weight and reputation, Sam developed a love for mischief, and Ashton arrived in freshman year with his cocky attitude and gorgeous looks.

There weren't many people or things that I held onto after that.

I was like a driver surrounded by fog in a bumpy, deserted road and the fog represented fame and prominence.

It seems as if I haven't been able to drive through the fog just yet, I thought when I heard loud hoots outdo the blaring music behind me as my fingers swept over the wooden walls of the treehouse.

The abode was only one room, but was large and substantial. I entered by climbing up two flights of stairs and you could either exit the same way you entered, slither down a rope, or go down a sphere-like slide.

I turned around slowly and surveyed the area, my back facing the entrance as I reminisced the inanimate objects in the room, one memory falling into place for each thing.

This treehouse was my nirvana, no one ever came up here. My shoulders sagged and I walked over to the bed, it creaked under my weight when I sat on it.