CAUTION: CONTAINS EMOTIONAL SCENES OF RAPE AND SEXUAL CONTENT TOWARDS THE END!
NOT FOR LITTLE HENRIS!!!!!!!!
A month later, my Dad snapped.
“Alright, I get it! Stop moping around- I’ve had enough and I’m taking you to see Sir Sinclaire!” He scraped his chair loudly on the floor and got up from the table.
“What? Moping?” I asked weakly, stirring my cereals disinterestedly.
“Yes, moping. Ever since you broke it off with him you’ve been a miserable wreck. You’re like a ghost. You don’t talk to me or to anyone and just hole up in your room. I say enough! I don’t want to see my daughter like this!” He huffed, pulling on his jacket.
“Dad, I’m fine. Please just don’t interfere, you’ve done enough of that already,” I said bitterly.There was a slight pause.
“So you don’t want to see Sir Sinclaire?” My Dad asked confusedly, scratching his head.
“No. I don’t. I don’t need useless men in my life who I can’t trust and are going to let me down,” I sighed. My Dad stammered.
“But I thought you wanted-”
“Well you thought wrong!” The first over ten second conversation I’d had with him for a month had ended up in me shouting at him. Typical. I emptied my bowl of cereal into the bin and ran upstairs to my room, leaving my Dad staring at me in shock.
I would have cried that day, but my eyes were so sore from a month of crying that I was sure another tear would cause a severe allergic reaction.
The night HE (I couldn’t even bring myself to utter his beautiful name) left me, I stayed up all night reliving the past weeks that I’d been in his company all the way back to when I first talked on the phone to him at the Nursery. That was a big mistake because it made my heart ache for him.
The next couple of nights were dominated by insomnia and when I finally got to sleep on the third night, I dreamt about him- the same reoccurring dream I am still having now.
The dream starts off with me opening the nursery door to HIM. But instead of him standing in the doorway like when we first met, he stands in the middle of the car park, directly ahead of me. The heavy rain showers all around him, however not on him. He stays perfectly dry as if standing in a glass box.
I try shouting to him but the rain drowns out my cries. I try to run to him but I feel like I’m on a treadmill as I am going nowhere. I give up, panting. Then someone else calls his name and he hears it and he turns around and disappears.
This reoccurring dream was more like a reality nightmare; I wanted him so bad yet I couldn’t have him and the dream portrayed it exactly.
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