0.4 Dad kept writing once a week after we left,
calling both our cells twice a day – morning and night.
Mom was quick to pack Fae's bags
and I was quick to pack my own.
I wanted to answer dad's calls or at least shoot him a text,
but every time my thumb hovered over his contact,
Fae stole my phone, until she then, deleted his number –
mom's too, not that I'd ever speak to her.
Still, I loved dad. Mom not so much.
But Fae was my other half and I had to keep her happy.
After all, dad chose mom over us, Fae.
YOU ARE READING
Hollow
ContoThe story of who she was before she stumbled into the bar one night and placed herself upon a reserved stool. © 2016, Christine Marie.