The Forgotten

chapter 5

Chapter 5

            Veronica walked down the street thinking of Isaiah and hoping he was ok. He had a look in his eyes, in his whole expression. A fear of the unknown was what she saw. It took a lot out of her not to go back and help him or at least get to the bottom of what was haunting him. She was a people pleaser, and as time had gone by, she realized that with that spirit of her, she was getting hurt while healing others. It was not pleasant. Her father was a patient who challenged her the most. She could never get anything from him. She had gone home yesterday only to be yelled at and told to go back to the houses of her numerous boyfriends. Her father was not the best of fathers but he was her hero – or used to be her hero. She understood him, –amid his bitterness toward her – she understood his feelings and why he was the way he was. He had taken what he, himself saw as “enough.”

When she got home, he was already back from work, and she walked past the living room and into the kitchen to make some food for both of them.

            She came across the picture of her mother and paused, picking up the frame and staring into the brown eyes that matched hers, the brown hair that was the same color tone as hers, and she smiled. Her mother was her. She was beautiful, loving, and kind. Veronica saw her as a goddess. “Put that down,” Randy Ford said under his breathe. He was at a constant battle with his emotions, half of the time, he didn’t mean to say what he said, but the other times, he did and he was sure of his stand.

Veronica dropped the picture and stepped back, a little flustered. Her father wasn’t the nicest man. Especially after her mother’s disappearance. He was never a nice man whenever his livelihood or happiness was threatened. Veronica still admired and respected her father for the man he was.

“I see you came home on time today” he glared at her.

“Yes, Dad. I’m sorry about yesterday.”

All she got was silence. He knew it was wrong to have kicked her out of the house for being late.

“Which of your little friends let you stay the night?” he asked bitterly.

Veronica was angered now. “None, Dad. You know why? Because I can stand on my own and not get butt-hurt over nothing. I do not rely on others or even blame anyone.” With that, she grabbed a bag of chips and strode to her room.

Ford mumbled, angered. He saw nothing but her mother. Most of the time, he believed she was his sweet Amy, who had ran off on him. He had always been afraid of losing Amy. But she picked him. Amy picked me.

Veronica sat in her room and picked up her own diary to write in. It was her escape, it would take away most of her hurt because it was the only thing that listened to her. This was where she wrote about her day, whether good or bad. She told her diary as much as she could…as often as she could. She wrote in her diary the most when she moves from a new school to another as demanded by her father’s job and her mother’s boredom with one house. Making friends were not what she focused on anymore although it used to be a priority for her. Now, she wanted more alone time so she would not be judged and questioned, finding herself in uncomfortable situations. A loner, she may be, but she had a justified reason after her many years of trying to please everyone. Today, her emotions got the best of her as her pen burned ink through the pages.

She began to write:

All I see that I am for is for being used by everyone. It’s always… Oh, Veronica… can you do this for me. Oh… Veronica, you’re nice…. Oh Veronica, I need you…  Veronica, I love you… but only until I’m done using you for my emotional needs, then you can get out of my life…until I need you again. oh Veronica, entertain me… oh, Veronica, help me with my work then I won’t talk to you ever again because I don’t need you after this… oh Veronica, I’m going to tell you ALL my problems but don’t you dare mention your problems to me… oh, Veronica, I don’t care what you did, but this is what I did. Oh… Veronica, you’re so weird even though you accept my weirdness. Oh, Veronica, you’re smart… oh Veronica, you’re odd.

I wish Someone could just listen. Lend me a hand for once. I always help but I never get offered any help.

She stopped when the first tear fell and made the ink bleed. She watched the spreading of it; it was exactly how she felt. Like all parts of her were flowing away into the unknown, the uncertain. Never dwell in the past. It was then that she picked up her mother’s Diary and decided maybe it was okay to read the contents.

She had found the book under her own bed about three days ago. Why it was there, she didn’t want to imagine. But her mother always had a reason for things she did.

But then, why did you live us? Why did you leave me?

The book was the only place she could get close to the answers she wanted. Her father, on the other hand, had already made up his mind that she had left him for another. Veronica knew her mother better. She had a reason.