Post by SARAH MCCONAUGHEY on Aug 1, 2011 2:43:37 GMT -5
Maybe that's why it was so hard to believe. When you smiled and said
Four in the morning. You'd think by now that this eighteen year old would be in bed. Except she had been. Until she was unwillingly awoken by a phone call that her father had decided to grace her with. When it came to Sarah's record label owning father, she was as good as nonexistent. The only time he ever gave a damn about her life was to tell her how much of a mistake she was. So it was no surprise when she picked up, the first thing he said was, "I hope you realize you've ruined my life." It had been two in the morning by this time, and she was fast asleep from a long night of studying lines. It was stupid of her for not looking at the caller ID before answering the phone call, but she was barely awake, and can hardly keep her eyes open as it is. So forgive her if she was too tired to take a peek before answering. Rubbing her tired eyes, she sat up, the blanket sliding down her half naked body. "Gee dad. Maybe if it wasn't two in the morning and I was awake, it'd sting a lot more." She said sarcastically, letting out a yawn. It was clear that her father was drunk, and in the background were girly giggles. Giggles that sounded way too young to be near her father's age. More like around her's. In fact, maybe even younger. "You ruined my life, Sarah." She sighed, rolling her eyes, leaning against the headboard of her bed. "So I've heard. A million times, dad."
The only reason that her father hated her so much was because of her dead mother. Somehow the death of her mother was entirely her fault. She wasn't exactly how that was possible considering it was a murder, and she was a province away from her mother.... Goes to show how desperate grieving people are to have to rewire their brain into thinking their own daughter was the cause of their wife's death. But the real reason, she knew, was because she resembled her mother. No, resemble wouldn't begin to describe how much she looked like her when her mother was her age. Still, even when her mother was still around, he had never liked her much to begin with. She wasn't sure what she had done to deserve her father hating her, but if you can't beat 'em, join 'em, right? But when her mother passed away, it just pushed her father over the edge. He drowned himself in work, promoting new bands, signing new record deals, and networking all over the world. At least when her mother was still alive, he still attempted to make conversation with her. But ever since she left, her father wouldn't even so much as glance at her. All he ever did was degrade her, and say horrible things to her. But what can she do? Her father was grieving. Even if it has been six years. She was still his daughter.
And it wasn't like she was able to change his mind. They were both stubborn, and never dared to show any sign of weakness. That's how they were. They were competitive, and they always had to win. So in the end, all she could do was take it. Let him degrade her. Let him tell her she was a waste of space. Let him tell her she was talentless. Let him tell her she wasn't going to amount to anything but a whore. And right on cue, her father spoke up once more. "Don't sass me Sarah. You're a no good piece of shit. You should have died instead of your mom." He slurred angrily, the sound of glass shattering on the other end of the line. She knew it was meant to hurt her, and she shouldn't have let him get to her, but it still hurt. Maybe if she told him about the murderer running around the school, he'd finally leave her alone and celebrate. Sarah bit down hard on the insides of her cheeks, holding back the tears she knew would fall. She swallowed the lump in her throat, "Good night dad." And with that, she hung up, chucking her phone across the room until it landed just beside the door. She threw the blanket away from her scantily clad body, and shuffled into her cardigan, making it seem like she was wearing nothing but that. Crawling into her black heels, she left her dorm room, the door shutting close silently behind her.
Where was she going? She wasn't entirely sure. After boiling herself some coffee, she roamed around campus, hoping to find someone who was up at this hour. She knew she wasn't supposed to leave her dorm building at this hour, and that she could get expelled for this, but right now, she could really care less. She was in a crap mood already, so life couldn't exactly get any worst. And sure, she could run into the murderer, but who the hell cares? Maybe the freak will finally make her father's wish come true. Like it really mattered. She shivered a little under her cardigan as the morning breeze blew by her while she crossed the campus field to get to the cafeteria. Despite the fact that the food here sucked like no tomorrow, she still felt like stuffing her face. Or at least imagine it. She pulled the ugly doors open, grabbing herself whatever it was that they were serving, and milled about the empty cafeteria before sitting down in the back corner, trying to stay hidden. She didn't even know why she bought food. She didn't even eat. Or well, she did. A little. Barely. So she liked to count her calories. It was no big deal. She was just trying to get into a habit of a healthy diet. She picked at her food, playing with it against her plate as her father's words kept replaying itself in her mind, reminding her how shitty she was in her father's eyes. Before she knew it, tears were already rolling down her face. She didn't feel the cold wet drops that streamed down her face, didn't see the food in front of her, and didn't hear the approaching figure that seemed to get closer and closer.
The only reason that her father hated her so much was because of her dead mother. Somehow the death of her mother was entirely her fault. She wasn't exactly how that was possible considering it was a murder, and she was a province away from her mother.... Goes to show how desperate grieving people are to have to rewire their brain into thinking their own daughter was the cause of their wife's death. But the real reason, she knew, was because she resembled her mother. No, resemble wouldn't begin to describe how much she looked like her when her mother was her age. Still, even when her mother was still around, he had never liked her much to begin with. She wasn't sure what she had done to deserve her father hating her, but if you can't beat 'em, join 'em, right? But when her mother passed away, it just pushed her father over the edge. He drowned himself in work, promoting new bands, signing new record deals, and networking all over the world. At least when her mother was still alive, he still attempted to make conversation with her. But ever since she left, her father wouldn't even so much as glance at her. All he ever did was degrade her, and say horrible things to her. But what can she do? Her father was grieving. Even if it has been six years. She was still his daughter.
And it wasn't like she was able to change his mind. They were both stubborn, and never dared to show any sign of weakness. That's how they were. They were competitive, and they always had to win. So in the end, all she could do was take it. Let him degrade her. Let him tell her she was a waste of space. Let him tell her she was talentless. Let him tell her she wasn't going to amount to anything but a whore. And right on cue, her father spoke up once more. "Don't sass me Sarah. You're a no good piece of shit. You should have died instead of your mom." He slurred angrily, the sound of glass shattering on the other end of the line. She knew it was meant to hurt her, and she shouldn't have let him get to her, but it still hurt. Maybe if she told him about the murderer running around the school, he'd finally leave her alone and celebrate. Sarah bit down hard on the insides of her cheeks, holding back the tears she knew would fall. She swallowed the lump in her throat, "Good night dad." And with that, she hung up, chucking her phone across the room until it landed just beside the door. She threw the blanket away from her scantily clad body, and shuffled into her cardigan, making it seem like she was wearing nothing but that. Crawling into her black heels, she left her dorm room, the door shutting close silently behind her.
Where was she going? She wasn't entirely sure. After boiling herself some coffee, she roamed around campus, hoping to find someone who was up at this hour. She knew she wasn't supposed to leave her dorm building at this hour, and that she could get expelled for this, but right now, she could really care less. She was in a crap mood already, so life couldn't exactly get any worst. And sure, she could run into the murderer, but who the hell cares? Maybe the freak will finally make her father's wish come true. Like it really mattered. She shivered a little under her cardigan as the morning breeze blew by her while she crossed the campus field to get to the cafeteria. Despite the fact that the food here sucked like no tomorrow, she still felt like stuffing her face. Or at least imagine it. She pulled the ugly doors open, grabbing herself whatever it was that they were serving, and milled about the empty cafeteria before sitting down in the back corner, trying to stay hidden. She didn't even know why she bought food. She didn't even eat. Or well, she did. A little. Barely. So she liked to count her calories. It was no big deal. She was just trying to get into a habit of a healthy diet. She picked at her food, playing with it against her plate as her father's words kept replaying itself in her mind, reminding her how shitty she was in her father's eyes. Before she knew it, tears were already rolling down her face. She didn't feel the cold wet drops that streamed down her face, didn't see the food in front of her, and didn't hear the approaching figure that seemed to get closer and closer.
TAG: PIERRE TOUSSAINT. WORDS: 1060. WEARING: THIS. NOTES: I'M SO SORRY! IT'S TERRIBLE! >.<
