Fragile | ✓

0.2 | How Rich Are They

02 | How Rich Are They?

→ No matter how broke, you can always be fixed

→ Talk a lot, I like hearing your voice

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"HUNNY BUN, will you bee my bumble bee," daddy sang his famous dad jokes in a voice that sounded awfully similar to the one of a screeching cow.

I told him exactly what I thought and he narrowed his eyes at me, "Well, if I sound like a dying cow-"

"No daddy! Not a dying cow, a screeching cow," I interrupt, quick to fix his mishap.

"Yeah, yeah potato, potah-to."

"What's a potah-to?" I ask innocently, looking up at daddy from my spot on the kitchen counter. Daddy was making pasta today and I, as always, got to be his little helper. Which translated to just watching daddy stir the pasta since he said I was 'too little and might get burnt.'

"A potah-to is..." he paused for what I assumed was meant to be a dramatic effect, and put the stirring spoon down in a bowl on the counter. "A tickle monster!" 

"That doesn't make any sense," I thought outloud, furrowing my eyebrows. A second later, my eyes widened as I realized what he was talking about but it was too late. Daddy reached across the kitchen island and poked my sides, making me giggle, before full on tickling my sides.
"No daddy, no! No tickle monster! Go hibernate!" I manage to squeal between my screams of laughter. 

"Tickle monsters don't hibernate, you silly goose," daddy shakes his head, kissing my forehead before finally letting me go and plops down on the couch. 

"Yes they do," I claim stubbornly stomping one of my feet before glaring at daddy, who looks at me with the same amused expression.

"Wait daddy! You forgot about the pasta!" I scream, suddenly forgetting all about my tickle monster dilemma. 

Daddy's eyes widen in realization as he sprints off the couch to get back to his spot as chef.

Let's just say we didn't have the best tasting pasta that night.

━━━

When I opened my eyes though, my loving dad's eyes weren't the first thing I saw. Instead, I woke up in an unfamiliar room. Cream colored curtains covered the huge windows in the far corner of the room and a light cinderella blue painted the walls. A huge bed, that I somehow lay in the middle of, with the net clothed canopy spread out around me. Unlike the tiny attic that served as my room back in Florida, this room matched one of a princess. An antique looking brown dresser with a tall mirror attached, positioned facing me so I could see my reflection perfectly from where I was laying. My now thin dark brown hair was in a ruffled nest on the top of my head and even the loose braid I had done fell out, dangling across my face. Tired lines grazed the bottom of my eyelids that were struggling to stay open, reminding me of the countless hours I had worked overnight shifts. It would be easy to define my reflection as a 'mess', more so than usual.

The events of the past day came flying back to me and I frowned at the mirror in realization of my so-called new life. The girl in the mirror frowned back at me, not seeming affected by it, as I kicked the blanket off me. Slowly one by one, the threatening tears that had been bottled up started to leak. I didn't bother wiping them away as I continued to stare at the girl watching me, blotchy faced. They dropped all the way down my cheek and fell onto the rug I hadn't noticed before. Fluffy and expensive, just like everything else here. I swallowed the remaining tears, knowing that someone would soon realize I was awake and catch me crying. Now swollen red, thanks to my sensitive eyes, the girl in the mirror grabbed the tissue from the dresser table, just waiting to be used. Slowly wiping my eyes, still drained of energy, I ran my fingers through my hair, in an attempt to look presentable to say the least.