APODEMIA ➣ ||P. PARKER||

•chapter seven•

Every little noise that sounded throughout the house made me paranoid, my thoughts always goes to the worse when the doorbell rings or when the house creaks from its pipes. I had hidden metal baseball bats all over the house, taping small kitchen knives under the dining table and hidden one under my pillow. Of course, mom didn't know about the knives, but she knew about the baseball bats, she thought it was because I enjoyed the sport and didn't ask any further questions.

At night I barely slept, my eyes widening at every little sound, my grip on the knife growing tighter and tighter. I knew someone was out there to get me, someone was watching me, S.H.I.E.L.D, HYDRA, anything and I knew it was keeping watch over my actions. Even if I try to sleep, the nightmares will just get me, swallowing me whole with no mercy.

I couldn't remember the last time getting a decent night of sleep. When I do, it's a dreamless sleep.

The love from my new mom and dad was temporary, I honestly thought it was going to last, they still love me but just became more neglecting without noticing. It was because of their job. Mom always worked late shifts and was only present during the morning, and dad always went on business trips or stayed at the office until late at night. I understand it's their jobs, but it's really because they are workaholics.

However, over the years, I began to realize something about them, I was only here to stabilize their marriage, I acted as their glue. I only found this out from reading mom and dad's text messages, their old hospital documents, and did a little bit of piecing together evidence.

Mom couldn't have children because of infertility, thus making dad woeful about this matter. They drowned themselves in work, hoping to occupy the empty feeling of not having children, but then they decided to adopt me, seeing that this can be the solution.

Adopting me as their child had filled that empty hole inside their hearts, but slowly after it's been filled, they went back to their habits of being workaholics, not grasping the fact that I was being hollowed out from the inside from the lack of love.

Reality wasn't very beautiful, or maybe I'm just asking for too much, in the end, I believed that I was being selfish.

On the bright side, middle school was better, specifically eighth grade which was right now. I stopped being the shy girl from elementary school who was always seen alone, I became more vocal, bold and confident to the point where I squashed others down.

It was only a mask to stop the bullying and rumors about me, it worked and the unrecognizable faces in the vast school became my friends, or fake friends actually. I wanted to believe that most of us were grown out of our elementary-school-bitching shells, and finally decided I was worth their time.

Although, the truth was because I changed my personality and because I was the rich kid, I wasn't stupid, I knew my parent's money was the reason people wanted to be friends, I could hear the conversations of the topic in the bathrooms almost every time I was in a stall.

The way I acted in home and school was different to the fact that I couldn't even recognize the true me in the mirror.

If they know the true me, would they all still be friends? The answer was no.

I can confidently say that social studies is my favorite class, right next to physical education that is. The serum made me excel in P.E, from running a mile under two minutes, and to breaking the school record of twenty-five pull-ups. My record was fifty. This is another reason people I'm 'friends' with appears, they only talked to and admired me because of P.E.

"This project is going to be a big grade, so please use all class time, you may partner up or do it alone," the teacher explained, she had curly brown hair and always wore a unique patterned dress, then clapped her hands together, "when you've chosen partners come to me for the project rubric and I'll assign the topic."