Annabeth wasn't the type of person to follow people's orders, expect her fathers. Ever since she could remember she would help out her father with his antique store. It was a small little store in Charleston, Missouri that she absolutely adored when she was a child, but now not so much.
Maybe it's the fact that it smells like old people, but most likely because her father forced her to work at the counter. It was boring and she hated it. She wanted to walk around and trace her fingers against the cold porcelain plates like she used to do. But she was stuck doodling on some paper she found in the bottom jour of her father's dark wooden desk. She glanced up at the black kitty clock to the right of her. 5:50 she thought, just ten more minutes till dad gets home, ten more minutes until freedom.
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Annabeth heard the familiar bell ring and looked up to see her father walking through the door. He was dressed in his usual black slacks, white button down shirt, long brown trench coat, and his leather briefcase in his left hand. He was getting old. His blonde hair was starting to grey at the tips and worry line seemed permit on his face. He's brown eyes tired and has remained lonely since her mother died.
Every time he walks into the old wooden shop Annabeth thinks it reminds him of her mom. But how can it not. They bought it together when they both early 20's, fixed it up, had a kid; life seemed like a dream for them. Until it crashed down on them when her mom was diagnosed with breast cancer. Annabeth doesn't even remember most of it, just bits and pieces. Like the feeling of her mother's almost baldhead against her small fingers and her mom whispering, " No tears, it just makes it worse."
After that, that one line centered around how she reacted to everything. No matter how frustrated or sad or disappointed she felt she'd always repeat, "No tears, it just makes it worse." Her little montage was interrupted by her father saying, "Hey Anna, can we go, I have a lot of work I have to do. So please get your stuff and meet me in the car." He left as quickly as he came it. She sighed. She grabbed her black backpack off from the dusty floor and picked her coat off from the chair and put it on.
She turned off all the lights and ran for the door, she may more may not be deathly afraid of the dark. Once outside she the cold November winds wickedly hit her face. Jesus Christ was it cold, Annabeth thought. She quickly locked the door and walk to the car with her shoulders up close, trying to sustain some warmth. As she slammed the car door shut her father barely glanced at her and quietly said "Don't slam the door it's bad for the car." But neglecting your daughter is completely okay. Annabeth thought grimly.
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Dinner was silent as they ate their pasta; the only sound was the clinging of forks against the glass bowls. Annabeth would send her father resentful looks but he would just simply look down at his food. She should be used to this, but as she got older, her father would look less and less at her, and the more and more she looked like her mother.
She brushed her curly blonde hair out of her face trying not to get it inside her bowl. She pushed herself out of her chair, said goodnight to her father, put the dishes in the sink, and ran up the creaky stairs to her bedroom. Her room was bland and boring but that's how she liked it. There were no distractions or memories locked inside of it, and that's how she wanted it. Annabeth showered, brushed her hair and teeth, and slipped under her covers, shivering as the coldness hit her body. She could distantly hear her father turning off the lights and walking up the stairs to his bedroom. She laid there for a while just staring at her white ceiling not thinking of really anything until she fell asleep wondering what will happen tomorrow.
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Hii! So I have really no idea what I'm doing but this idea came into my head a while ago and I've been thinking hey maybe I should actually write this down. I don't know if this chapter is any good or if the idea is even good. So please just review and tell me because I honestly don't know. Thanks! (I don't know how to sign off of this, but bye?)