Once Upon A Slap

(17) Since I Like To Run Away From my Problems Hide in a Closet With Me

** Chapter 17 **

I slowly stirred in my spot, my stomach rumbling rabidly. I was absolutely and utterly famished. Yawning, I threw my hands into the cool air, stretching my body, very thoroughly. I felt a cracking sensation course throughout my body, causing me to groan in satisfaction.

I ran a distraught hand through my usually silky hair. Of course, my hair was still perfectly silky and felt as if it had been freshly combed. It was what I liked to call Miracle Hair. That's the name my father had thought of before he had left. My mind began to wander aimlessly.

Sometimes, I would sit outside in the dark, the stars illuminating the night sky and cry, while praying to God that someday he would bring my usually peppy family together again. I had been 13 at the time and it had been my birthday. I was quite delusional. My parents had forgotten to visit. Of course, they had 'called' the next day.

What I mean by that, is that they had gotten their secretary to call me and tell me that my parents were sending me a credit card to make up for missing my birthday. Suffice to say, it didn't make up for shit. I was a 13 year old girl who had no clue how to use a credit card and only wanted her parents. Credit cards could buy many things, but they most definitely can't buy your parents back.

Especially when they've already sold their souls to the devil.

I hated knowing that my parents were shallow enough to think that a flimsy piece of plastic would make up for missing my birthday. My thirteenth birthday; the year I officially became a teenager. Not a preteen, but an actual teenager.

I hated knowing that my parents thought that I was a shallow child. They had thought I had spent hours crying over the phone while sending voicemails begging for my parents to come home, just because I wanted money. I didn't want money; I wanted their love. That's still what I desperately want.

It's hope that I've been clutching onto for so long. I've been hoping for so long that some sort of a miracle would occur and I would have my perfect, cozy little family back. Although, my parent's heads were stuck too far up each other's asses to realize.

Hope is a terrible thing. Although, it can also be one of the best things. Hope is horrible to hold onto. But, it's also the most beautiful thing you'll ever encounter. Hope is just another form of disappointment, in my opinion. Or maybe, I'm just being too bitter and cynical.

Just because hope hadn't worked in my favour didn't necessarily mean it was a bad thing. Although, for me, it would always be a bitter-sweet word. Hope is destructive.

For example, when you order a gorgeous shirt online, it comes in and you come to the realization that the shirt isn't all that it's cracked up to be. For me, that's hope. It's ugly and horrid. But it's also beautiful and magical, all at the same damn time.

This is the emotion that's been keeping me from true happiness and joy in my life. I hope each day to see my parents at the door, suitcases and luggage in tow. Deep inside, hope had convinced me that I could only ever be happy once my parents move back in. Hope has convinced me. Now, I believe that I cannot possibly be truly happy without my parents. It's too late to change that fact; I just have to live with it. Hope has ruined me, possibly forever.

I snuggled into the bed sheet. Aroused by the good smell of it, I sniffed it and sighed happily. It smelt different than before, although, I was sure I had smelt the same scent elsewhere as well. Not really having enough energy in me to remotely care, I drowned myself into the fluffy white blanket, my hair cascading down a plush and also white, pillow.

If only boys smelt as good as this bed sheet. Life would be perfect. Of course; this heavenly bed smelt of Cammie. Through and through; there was no doubt.