the hating game ; lrh

fifty-three

IT'S FUNNY HOW SOMETHING as trivial as two tiny, minuscule words can change a person's entire life — even when they are in relation to such a seemingly insignificant person.

My father had never played a significant role in my life, and I had never really been bothered by this. Of the little memories I do hold of him, the most prominent are reflective of the pain he brought to our lives. The drinking, the angry slurs, the permanent position on our living room couch surrounding by rubbish and his own stench. My mum crying because he was a mean, lazy excuse for a husband. Calum crying because he would always yell at him when he asked to play ball. Me crying because he made everybody else cry — and he always ate my favourite cereal.

Then, one glorious day, he finally got up off the couch and left — vanished into thin air. Or so it seemed. I remember arriving home from school and the front door was locked; it was never locked. Dad must be out, Calum and I thought, although he was never out. Nonetheless, we waited on the front doorstep all night until our mother returned home from a late shift at the hospital. I remember how confused and horrified she was to find us out on the front porch alone so late. She opened up the house and seemingly tore it apart to try and find our dad — but he wasn't there. I remember how much she cried, and how confused I was. In my eyes, it wasn't like he was ever really there anyway. Calum and Mum didn't see it like that, though.

Despite all of the pain that his abandonment caused, our family continued to prosper. With the help of our friends, particularly the Hemmings', we managed to create a family of our own within the community. As much as I hate California now, I will forever be grateful for what it's people did for us in this time of need. Overall, however, we were always better off without my dad.

So why do I feel so empty now that he's gone?

Ever since learning of my father's death, that feeling of nothing — being completely void of any emotion — has crept back into my heart. Nothing in my life feels real anymore. With each corner I turn, I expect the universe to plummet yet another life-destroying asteroid my way. I don't know that any more detrimental events could even tarnish me any further at this point. I don't have anything left to give. Everybody has taken and taken and taken some more from Rory Hood — there is only emptiness inside me. They can try and take, but I am empty.

Perhaps one light in this otherwise terrible world of black right now is my support system. Since it happened, I haven't really spent a single moment alone — it is almost as if my friends have a roster of when to take care of me. Anna is over almost every second she can spare, and when she's not here Ashton replaces her (the two can hardly bare spending more than five minutes in each other's company). Michael drops around every few days, although he spends most of his time with Calum, and Jaden makes a point of visiting at least twice a week — usually with takeaway, too. I've even had Cara Waters drop off a couple of casseroles — with a smile, at that — although I suspect she is here more for Calum than me.

And when there is nobody else left to watch over us, Calum and I have each other. So, I am almost always surrounded by other people — that is, until today. Today is the first day since my dad died that I am completely alone.

I let out a sigh, watching as my breath causes my bedsheets to sway slightly, like trees in the wind. The O.C. plays on my laptop, though I'm not really listening to what Seth and Summer are arguing about in this episode. Rather, I find myself curled up beneath the safety of my blanket, thinking about the mess that is my life as I stare out my partially-open window.

I am broken from my thoughts by the sound of the doorbell ringing throughout the house. I let out a loud groan at this — if Cara Waters is bringing me another casserole, I think I might throw it back in her face. Regardless, I throw a light robe on over my pyjamas and make my way downstairs, not caring enough to fix my presumably ghastly appearance as I answer the door.