Let This One Go

Ninety One;

Reading what was on the paper was a challenge, the typed font was faded giving the hint that it must've been around for quite some time now. At first, I thought it was my rejection letter, but I got that letter a long time ago and I'm pretty sure I threw it away by now. Hell, I was so pissed off I probably torn it into pieces and threw it away right after I opened it.

This letter, from Juilliard apparently, is congratulating me explaining to me that I got accepted. Only problem is, I didn't get accepted. I even made sure I wasn't dreaming in that moment when I ripped open that rejection letter and I wasn't. That rejection letter was real, but yet so is this one.

"Dad!" I run to the bathroom and find him shuffling through the cabinet to find the first aid kit.

"I'm working on it sweetheart, I can't remember where I put the first aid kit."

"What? No," I say. The last thing on my mind was my palms that only reminded me of another horrible mistake I made. "I found this letter in the trash."

He immediately stops what he's doing and finally looks at me with an unreadable expression. His eyes cast down to the two torn pieces between my hands.

"It's from Juilliard and it's saying that I got accept-"

"Chloe, darling." He doesn't let me finish my sentence and wraps me in his arms holding me tightly. "I am so sorry, please understand that I was trying to help you."

"Dad?" I go to pull away but he only holds me closer.

"I'm trying to protect you, please don't hate me for this."

And it's like a light switches on in my head, I forcefully pull myself away from his arms and stare up at him mortified. I was going to ask him what this letter is and where did it come from, but I guess that he assumed that I found out that he...did he do that?

I look down at the paper and then back up at him. "Wait a second, wait a second."

I walk away straight to the living room running my fingers through my hair feeling like I needed a second to set my mind straight.

My father typed a fake letter making it seem like it was Juilliard and ditched the real letter, the letter that actually accepted me.

I didn't know what mood to feel. I got into Juilliard but yet I didn't know about it because my overprotective, selfish, egotistical, psychotic father kept it from me. He knew how much this meant to, after I took so many years to work up the courage to tell him what I wanted to do with my life he lies in my face and tells me he supports me. But as soon as my letter comes, he trashes it? Types up a fake one and hands it to me and looks me in the eye and says I'm sorry?

By now, my chest was heaving up and down from my rapid and uneven breaths as I began to hear footsteps behind me.

"Chloe, darling I..."

I turn around and face him feeling tears sprang my eyes but I quickly blink them back. All I've been doing for these few weeks was cry, cry about this and cry about that, and I wasn't even on my god damn period those days.

"How could you do this to me?" My voice cracks, but I manage keep my head up. Even though all I wanted to do was runaway.

"I'm trying to protect you." He steps closer to me, but maintains a safe distance.

I shake my head. "When are you going to figure out that I don't need protecting? And If lying to my face and doing something so outrageous and toying with my future goals is your way of protecting me, then I'd rather walk the streets of Chicago in the middle of the night then be in this house!"