I Don't Do Death

Chapter - 1

trust

noun

1. firm belief in the reliability, truth, ability, or strength of someone or something:"relations have to be built on trust"

Being held captive or 'protected' like my parents like to say, is not the slightest bit of fun. I don't know what friends are and don't have any. All I know is to read, that is my only type of entertainment. I mostly read thrillers, adventure, and mystery novels. They've always intrigued me. All the suspense, hidden treasures, journeys, gore and badassery in these stories keep me interested at all times.

All the mushy romance novels and stuff are just, eugh! I just don't enjoy them. I bought one before thinking that I might like them and didn't even finish the entire book because it was so uninteresting. Maybe the book that I chose was bad and a time would come where I will be able to finally enjoy mushy novels.

Most times the reason I get invested so on thrillers and mystery is because of the fact of how much I can relate to them. When they are kidnapped and held captive, they aren't allowed the freedom that they deserve . And it makes me sad saying this but I relate to them. The trapped and always being watched feeling is something I've felt my entire life. Maybe it is for my well being, but I don't like it.

So, today I am going to change that.

I ripped my eyes of the book I was reading and decided to head downstairs and try to have the 'talk' with my parents. This 'talk' is something that I have been desperate to have for a long time, for almost 5 years. But I never got around to doing it. Whenever I brought up the topic they would interrupt me and say that they have some work or some other lie like that and I know that they do it on purpose. Yeah, of course you will get a business call right when your daughter is trying to talk to you, that too at the exact moment every single time.

I arrived at the living room and saw them sitting and working on their laptops. They never got me one even after insisting for an entire month. They said the same dialogue they say every time I ask for something, "It's for your own protection".

I casually walked to the kitchen to not seem suspicious and opened the fridge to take a gallon of orange juice. I gulped down some and kept it back in. I walked in front of them and cleared my throat to get their attention.

The two pairs of eyes landed on me and they looked at me questioningly.

"I want to talk to you guys." I confessed and took a step in front. Their eyes widened as they looked at each other's fearful eyes. They guessed what was coming.

"I am sorry Oli, but I have some work to do right now," he tried coming up with an excuse but failed miserably.

"I want to talk to you guys. Now." I said again, a little more harshly this time which made dad sit back on his chair without uttering a word.

"What do you want to talk about Olivia?" mom asked trying to muster up a smile, but the nervousness in her voice was a giveaway that she was scared shitless.

I scoffed, "You know what I want to talk about. And this time I need answers." I said, emphasizing every single word in the last sentence. They looked at each other worriedly, as if saying the answer to my question would potentially ruin my life and it put a frown on my face. Is it that bad? Do I really want to know it? Yes, I have to know what my history is and why I am the way I am and what the hell is stopping them from making me live a life of freedom.

My father turned to me with concern and fear lacing his features and started, "Look Oli, we've said this before. We just want you to be safe-"

"SHUT UP!" I exclaimed standing up from the couch and slapping a flower vase which shattered into pieces when it came in contact with my hand and my parents flinched away from me "just shut up," I said in a much lower voice while looking down and clenching my hands in to a fist.