Status: Expect it by the end of the year.
Liar, Liar
spark me up.
I was six years old at the time, too young and too stupid to understand. So when my mom rushed towards me, her hair sweaty, messy, the long blonde locks matted to her bare torso, and wrapped her manicured fingers around my mouth, I didn’t question anything. When her shimmery, eggplant coloured nails bit painfully into the flesh of my cheek and she hissed into my ear to never tell my daddy about this, I didn’t argue.
The man that was lying on the king-size bed yawned and stretched his arms forward, leaning up to a sitting position. He eyed me with a pair of green, amused eyes. I glanced back at him through innocent eyelashes, blinking blankly, watching as he stood up and let the bed sheets fall to the ground. My mom growled, slapping what was supposed to a nurturing hand over my eyes; I saw pretty colours like fireworks as she tightened both hands around my face.
“Cute kid.”
I was led backwards, stumbling over my stubby feet before finally tripping and falling into the ground ass first. It didn’t sting since it was the hallway carpet, but what did sting was the slam of the bedroom door; I felt my ankle snap like an elastic. A cry gripped the soft lips of my ‘o’ shaped mouth, dragging itself out. My mother immediately tossed the door back open. She cussed, turned to look at the man, and then faced me again.
I ended up in the hospital, a thick, neon green cast encasing my foot. My dad burst through the door, one hand clutching his briefcase while the other tugged to loosen his peacock blue tie.
“Oh, honey,” he cooed, placing his briefcase on a chair before holding my hands together. “Are you okay?”
I nodded with a small smile. He sighed, patting the back of my hand with his own calloused hands.
“Deary, how did this happen?”
My mom’s intense stare scorched its way into the side of my head. I listened to her even though it felt incredibly wrong.
“I was running in the house and tripped on the stairs.”
My dad groaned but pulled me into a tight, constricting hug. I curled my arms around his neck, but glanced at my mom who sat silently in the corner. I expected a smile, a thumbs up, or just anything to show me that I had done the right thing, or at least something to show me that I had done a good job. Instead, my mom stood up and muttered something about coffee before exiting the room with a huff.
I probably pouted before mumbling a quiet and ashamed, “I’m sorry, Daddy.”
The man that was lying on the king-size bed yawned and stretched his arms forward, leaning up to a sitting position. He eyed me with a pair of green, amused eyes. I glanced back at him through innocent eyelashes, blinking blankly, watching as he stood up and let the bed sheets fall to the ground. My mom growled, slapping what was supposed to a nurturing hand over my eyes; I saw pretty colours like fireworks as she tightened both hands around my face.
“Cute kid.”
I was led backwards, stumbling over my stubby feet before finally tripping and falling into the ground ass first. It didn’t sting since it was the hallway carpet, but what did sting was the slam of the bedroom door; I felt my ankle snap like an elastic. A cry gripped the soft lips of my ‘o’ shaped mouth, dragging itself out. My mother immediately tossed the door back open. She cussed, turned to look at the man, and then faced me again.
I ended up in the hospital, a thick, neon green cast encasing my foot. My dad burst through the door, one hand clutching his briefcase while the other tugged to loosen his peacock blue tie.
“Oh, honey,” he cooed, placing his briefcase on a chair before holding my hands together. “Are you okay?”
I nodded with a small smile. He sighed, patting the back of my hand with his own calloused hands.
“Deary, how did this happen?”
My mom’s intense stare scorched its way into the side of my head. I listened to her even though it felt incredibly wrong.
“I was running in the house and tripped on the stairs.”
My dad groaned but pulled me into a tight, constricting hug. I curled my arms around his neck, but glanced at my mom who sat silently in the corner. I expected a smile, a thumbs up, or just anything to show me that I had done the right thing, or at least something to show me that I had done a good job. Instead, my mom stood up and muttered something about coffee before exiting the room with a huff.
I probably pouted before mumbling a quiet and ashamed, “I’m sorry, Daddy.”
♠ ♠ ♠
I wasn't going to post anything for this but I decided to anyways because I never listen to myself. Ha.Don't expect anymore chapters for a while though because I want to finish this story before actually posting it.