The Skeletons In The Closet

Chapter Seventeen

Good job to percyjacksonlover21 for getting the POV right!

Katie's POV

I was still holding Travis's hand when we arrived in Missouri. I quickly let go, wiping my sweaty hands on my jeans.

My father and I lived in a fairly big stone house with an even bigger greenhouse off to the side. As a child, I learned everything there was to know about plants, though I had an exceptional green thumb.

My dad spent every spare minute in that greenhouse, often neglecting me.

"After you," Travis said, grinning at me. I shoved him and took off, racing to the house. "No fair!" He yelled behind me. But of course I beat him.

When we got inside, I was sitting at the kitchen table drawing a picture of flowers. I looked to be about seven years old. Seven year old me glanced at the clock.

She got up and ran out the door, heading to the greenhouse. We followed.

"Dad! Dad, are you in here?"

"What do you want Katie, I'm busy," he said, not even looking up from his tests. He pushed his glasses farther up on his nose. He had a pad of paper next to him with writings of plant growth.

"I was just hungry. I was wondering when you were gonna come in and make supper."

"You know how to make Mac n cheese, how about you do that, sweetie? I'll be in later."

"But I had Mac n cheese last night and—"

"Katie."

She huffed and walked out of the room.

The time lapsed to when I looked about ten years old.

I sat in the grass outside of the house. The lights were on in the greenhouse, like always, but I just sat by myself, braiding flowers into my hair. The grass seemed to grow higher where I was sitting, curling itself around my toes and ankles. I giggled and played with it, growing a dandelion right out of the dirt. It grew fast before our eyes, curling around my fingers.

It continued to age to the point where the yellow flower turned into white fluff. Young me picked the floor and blew it. All the little white puffs danced in the wind, flying off to a new place.

"I wish for more time with my dad," I whispered softly.

The scene changed again and I was thirteen. I stood in the greenhouse with Leslie, my satyr friend from school. He fidgeted nervously under my dad's glare.

"Dad, I'm leaving," I said, scared witless, but confronting him nonetheless. "What? Katie, no you're not. You will stay here with me. I need your help in the green house."

"No Dad, you've never needed my help. All I am to you is a nuisance. I'm going where Mom wanted time to be."

"Your mother...she...no. She didn't—how do you know this?" He asked.

"Leslie told me. He's taking me to camp, Dad. Have a good life."

And I walked away from him, Leslie scrambling to keep up. Tears streamed from my face. "Are you okay?" Leslie asked.

"I will be."

Who's next?