Apartment

Apartment // Eleven.

I kindle to Harry who is sleeping beside me, the events of last night are a blur but I remember what he did and what he said. The sweet words he whispered to me, they touched my soul and broke my heart. How I wished I love him too.
I turn towards him and his cheek, he grumbles but once he opens his eyes he says "good morning moon light."

I whisper back "good morning", this time giving him a small lingering kiss.

"What was the for?" He asks.

"Last night, you were such a gentlemen no one else would stop, they'd just wake up the next morning and say it was a drunken mistake," I admit.

Once again he smiles, we get up and our heads begin throbbing as we put our clothes on. Everyone else but my close friends left early leaving us to clean the house. We all go back to our homes to sleep off our hangovers. The next day everyone has to go to work, which is terribly tiring when we all still need to rest from my birthday party.
It's Tuesday, when everyone wants to hangout again, but I say I'm busy doing errands.
In all honesty I'm getting ready, ready to go visit my parents.

I want my summer to be great meaning I have to slay the last of my haunting ghosts.

I shower, shave, brush my teeth, put light perfume on & deodorant; I'm also wearing as minimal of make as possible. I go with a nude lipstick and just some BB Cream, to cover up my little imperfections. I fix my eyebrows & place in my contact. I wave my hair, so it looks shiny and natural. I'm also wearing modest clothing: mom jeans, long onyx long sleeve button up (which I tuck in), and I finish off my look with some classic converse.
All I'm taking are my keys, wallet, phone, lipstick, mints & a packet of gum, in my mini faux leather backpack.
I look at myself in the mirror, I look so innocent, I look as when I was in high school. This isn't me, I don't care about the way I look, I don't care about being perfect and presentable, but if this is what it takes to make amends with my parents, then I'll do it.
I took one last look to which I murmur profoundly, I walk out my door and locking it when I run into my neighbor George. "Luna?" He questions.
"Yeah?" I answer back.
He looks at me one more time "you look like you're 17, what with this get up?"

"Oh good, do I look innocent?" I inquire completely ignoring his question.

He is confused at my question "yes, it's really confusing and weird but you look good. Interview or something?"

I don't hesitate to answer his question "yup." No one can know where I'm going, because they'd all try to stop me.

I get into my car, and play some music, Bastille is playing on the radio and of course it's 'Flaws'. I don't want to to focus on my flaws or my imperfections; I have better things to worry about, like what I'm going to tell my parents when I knock on their door.

I don't have much time to think because it's only a 25 minute drive to their house, I park on the street right across the street of the house. This house was a prison, no more like an asylum, they made me crazy. The deceiving yellow paint is pale and chipping, the gate squeaks I open it and they've replaced my beloved dog, that died the year I graduated, for an ugly chihuahua. The streets are silent, there are no cars like back home, which is full of them. I take a deep-breathe, I slowly open the gate, the stupid dog is barking at me from the side yard, I ring the doorbell twice. I am currently looking down at my feet, hyperventilating, swaying my body back and forth. I am beyond nervous, I am about to have a panic attack when the door opens, it's my sister.

She takes one look at me and scoffs, calling for my mother who comes out drying a dish, she looks at me as if I were a complete stranger. "Luna," she gasps "what are you doing here?"

"I've come to see you," is all I could mutter, I couldn't possibly tell her that I want to make amends.

She gestures for me to come in, I enter the nostalgic halls that I don't remember clearly enough, I cleared out any memory of this place that I once called my home. I turn to my right to find my father sitting at the dinner table, three place settings, they were about to eat dinner. "Are you hungry? I made pork chops." my mother asked,