The Fallen Angel

Chapter Two

"I thought Hayden was going to take you out?" My mom came out of the kitchen with an eyebrow raised, just as I closed the door behind Hayden.

"I didn't feel like it," I said, shrugging. I had told Hayden I didn't really feel up to being around people, and she insisted that she'd take me out tomorrow. I agreed. But the thing was, I really did want to go out. After she brought it up for the millionth time, I realized how rehearsed and boring my life really was. Always helping, always working, and never doing anything for myself. Because I had always cared more about others than myself.

But I made sure not to tell her that. After so many times of telling her I liked my life this way, I refused to admit that I actually didn't. 

"Well, okay then. Can you go out back and see if your father needs help outside?" She turned around, probably used to me saying "Yeah, Mom! I was heading out to ask anyway!" or something like that. For the first time, I didn't really want to go ask if Dad needed help. He would most definitely say yes and find something for me to do. Not because he wanted me always working, but because that's what he knew I loved doing.

"Sure," I said quietly, so quiet I could barely hear myself. I shuffled reluctantly to our sliding glass door, and pulled it open, peeking my head out of the living room into the outside. Warm air blew lightly on my face, making my hair fly into my mouth. I ran my hand back through my hair to get the hair out of my mouth, then looked to the left to see my Dad flipping steaks on the grill.

"Hey, Dad," I chirped loudly. He looked up, not even slightly startled by me.

"Hey, Snoopy," he grinned as he said my nickname. When I was younger, I hated when he called me that, sometimes even pouted and folded my little ten-year-old arms to emphasize my hatred for the name. But now I look back and don't understand why I was ever so mad about it. I loved when he called me that. Maybe because he rarely ever said it anymore, knowing darn well I didn't like it.

I smiled back widely, trying to signal that I didn't mind that anymore. But his smile vanished.

"Sorry," he chuckled slightly, returning his attention back to the steaks, "I know you hate that name. I just miss calling you that,"

Me too, I thought sadly. But instead I stepped out and said, "That's alright. Need any help?"

"Sure. Wanna take those into your mom?" he gestured to the plate of steaks on the side of the grill, "I bet she'll find something to do with them, she always does," he said. "I can never make them perfect for that woman."

I laughed, brushing my hair back and then putting my hands on the edges of the thick plate, and before I picked it up, I frowned.

"Why are there extra steaks?" I asked.

"Oh," my dad looked up, his eyebrows also knitted tightly together, "did your mom not tell you?"

"Tell me what?" I narrowed my eyes.

"Your grandparents are visiting for a few days," he replied without hesitation, and then looked away quickly before he saw my horrified expression.

My grandparents usually only visited three times a year. It was always at random times, and every time was very last minute so we had no time to prepare ourselves and build a firm wall inside of us so my grandpa didn't lower our self esteem. Especially mine.

Some part of me thinks she is part of the reason I am like I am. I used to adore my Grandma, but now looking back, I had no idea why. She had never really liked me. She always had wanted a grandson, and then she was stuck with me. She tried talking my mom into having one more child, but it didn't work. Almost did, but didn't.

And even now she would probably still come up with something I should change about myself. Last time she visited it was my grades. I had all A's, and one B in science, a subject I always had a hard time with, and she made sure to scold me for it every single day she was here. I would tell you the rest of the things she shamed me about, but I blocked them out of my memory because I got so sick of hating myself for it.

"For how long?" I couldn't hide the disappointment in my voice, not even a little. 

"Less than a week--"

"A week?" I interrupted, my hands going up to my head as I grabbed two fistfuls of hair. "I can't believe Mom didn't tell me."

"She probably knew you'd react like this," he gestured with his tongs to my entire body, and I scowled.

"I'm gonna tell her to send them back," I said, spinning around to go back inside.

"Honey, it's too late, they were an hour away forty-five minutes ago," my dad called after me as I stepped inside my home.

"MOM!" I called, thinking she was still in the kitchen. But I halted abruptly when I saw she was only a few feet away from me, standing at the front door, greeting my grandparents.

All my hope to send them back on their way deflated like a whoopie cushion. They were in the house, their bags at their feet, and already looked comfortable even though they hadn't even taken off their shoes.

"Yes?" My mom closed the door behind them, finalizing their stay.

I inwardly took a deep breath, mentally preparing my protective wall.

"I just wanted to hurry in and say hi to my grandparents," I said finally, forcing a smile onto my face. I was told that I was good at faking happiness. Probably because I grew up pretending I was actually happy to see my grandma. "I missed you guys."

My grandma ignored my comment, but my grandpa grinned. "I missed ya too, Snuppy."

Snuppy. He never had called me Snoopy, always Snuppy. And I smiled at the name.

"Would you please show them to their room? I need to finish up in here," my mom said, but my grandma put her hand on Mom's shoulder.

"We've been here plenty of times, we know where we belong," Grandma faced me, "we won't need you to show us. You should go help out your pops."

She picked up one of her bags, and then started walking with her chin held high in the air, making Grandpa pick up the rest of their bags. 

"You need some help, Papa?" I asked, stepping forward to help, but he shook his head, holding his hand up to stop me.

"No, I'm okay, honey. Go ahead and help out your dad," he bent down and gathered the bags, and then started waddling to his room. 

I could already tell this would be a fantastic week.

)()()()()(

Hey :P Well, this chapter sucks....it'll get better soon.

I seriously feel like I'm becoming worse of a writer, not a better one.

Kms lol

UPDATE: BRUH i thought i published this a hundred years ago...smh....well, hope you enjoyed! XD