Lacking Details (On Going)

☯ Lacking Details: An Advantage of Not Knowing your Boyfriend

Prologue

It doesn’t mean that if you know your guy so much and you’re comfortable with him, you’ll live happily ever after. Your relationship might turn out to be numb or even boring. And if you don’t know facts about your boyfriend, doesn’t mean you’re less interested about him or he’s not open to you.

Read this story and you’ll learn the biggest conception of “loving in truth even revolving with a secret”.

PART 1

It’s 22th of April and I’ve been staring at my books and files. Been studying, making projects, experimenting Physics, question Math, developing Music, detail-patching of Arts and finding the concept of Psychology. My life’s boring — will I ever make a difference?

      I’m Allie Galen Sullivan and I’m a Senior Student of Southern New Hampshire University (College Dept.). Finally I get to graduate on the next semester. But, that’s not the last thing my father would want me to achieve. When I was on 9th Grade he use to repeat every dinner that I should be ready for the the sunrise. Well, that’s creepy and enchanting but he’d describe it like he’d be winning in lottery or something — I view it typically blurry.

Yes he’s strick. Atleast in fairytales there’s usually a considerate mother. Mine is not and for elaboration, she’s my mistress. Tell me, Am I in a story whose writer has in no experience and intelligence? Cause’ it doesn’t consist any twist at all. I’m always unhappy and lacking desperation.

My biological mother died before I even had a knowledge about reality. I was 5 years old that time. She got killed in a car accident, the investigators use to say. But I never believed them. She once professed that only no-good people die in wickedness and the death of those innocent people are root of those no-good people’s doing. Well, if I didn’t believe the public; more particularly, I would never believe that she has secrecy of being evil.

That time, I wanted to know who’s the killer. I wanted to investigate. But poor little Allie was just five years old? I can’t make a difference, can I?

After four months of that incident, father can’t handle my coldness anymore. Then he told me, “You know kid, there’s a possibility that you’re one of the suspects.” I was eating Nutella, I choked and gasped, “Daddy, what? You’re telling me that in times that I don’t get along with her and I end up the night still not okay —when I go to sleep, I sleep walk then I chased mom with knife on my hand and began doing so?” — I was 5! I’m imaginative. He shrieked and my face was likehuh? and after I stored that situation inside my head, he used it as my loan.

I grew up with this, “Kid, you need to focus in order to pay for it; for your mother’s happiness and contentment. It’s between you and your conscience.”

I finished Kindergarten with my Daddy there to pin my ribbons and award those medals that I never even wanted at the first place. Everytime I see my neighbor, Catherine outside my window; so happy helping her mother take care of their front yard, I feel jealously inside my veins and it tears me apart thinking of what it's like to be to have a mother who'll never think of getting you adopted. Yes; my father wanted me to be gone. I overheard his conversation with the nun whose convent we visit every week. Ofcourse I didn't want to go. I was just six years old yet I planned to make escape from living. I was curious about committing suicide; I've seen it in movies.

It was the day -- I knew it was. I felt it was it. I was terrified. I hid inside my closet but he found me. And there was a news: "Oh my daughter! I thought I'll be left with no choice!" He introduced me to Ms. Hawey. I've seen her before in those pictures of my parents' Wedding Day. 

And ...

"What? You're getting married again?"

"Yes dear. She'll be your mother. She'll be take care of you. Aren't you happy?"

That time I wanted to weep. I wanted to go away from New Hampshire. But then, things keep flashing: If my mother was alive, she'll be scolding me if I'd leave my father. And so, I remained silent; wasn't showing debts to them. I never treated Mrs. Hawey-Sullivan as a mother; nor a mistress. She was unknown.

Then, in Fifth Grade I was when the investigators went to our house for they opened the case again cause' there was a prospect who decided to reveal that it was a murder. Mom was shot by a riffle that went through her body that's why no bullet was found inside her; before her car crashed on a post.

Mrs. Hawey-Sullivan and my father was shocked by the news. The neighborhood was filled with gasping when it was reported all over Salem.

But I was so buoyant! They wondered how could I be so cheerful like that.

Well ...

I was in pleasant -- "I knew my mother wasn't stabbed; she was shot, good thing she was! I'm not the murderer! I'm not for can't pull a trigger! A riffle is way too heavy for me to lift!"

After that I felt carefree. Even though Sullivan's House was not into having a residence of a family.

And then the twist started ...

"I'm Allie Galen Sullivan. Only daughter of Mr. James Fredrick Sullivan and Mrs. Amanda West-Sullivan. I'm 21 and I'd appreciate if you'd be nicer to me compared to last year."

I don't like telling anyone about my deceased mother and my wicked step-mother. I don't like telling anyone about where I live cause' they'll see my father and her someone having a sweet moment while I'm stuck in the attic. I'm popular cause they say I'm the jack-of-all-trades and It's getting into me. But, bullied by bitches? I get it all. I'm suited everyday by any guy but never in my entire life I was inlove. I'm way to busy for it. Busy of proving to myself that I don't deserve to left but I keep on failing. I don't know why I was in those situations. Life's just way too unfair.

"Hey; aren't you Fredrick's Elder Sister? The Sophomore kid whose always called in the principal's office for always escaping classes?"

"We live in the same house. We share the same dad but I'm so unlike him. I don't even know his pet's name and I don't know what he is; I don't eat the same food as he take."

I have a 'so called brother' named Freddy. He's a Junior of my father. I wished baby girls also a term for Junior; passing over of names to one parent to their daughter. That way, I won't be reminded about my father's face when they mention the name Freddy has. I'd be the Junior -- I'd be the only one; crushed dreams... And then I blame life for being so unfair again.

I was with my 'bestfriend' Rala in the hallway. I was wearing a cap because I'm annoyed by guys following, stalking, smiling and flirting with me. I wanna punch them all but I don't want to break my good girl image to our principal, Mr. Garcia. I don't want to be submerged with Freddy's doings.

"Excuse me; coming through!" A wrecking sound from my behind.

(UNDER CONSTRUCTION)