Hello! Yay, new story! :D Hopefully, you will like this... I've had this idea for a while now, but I just didn't really know how to start it right. Now, though, it has been accomplished. Enjoy the first chapter of Tomorrow Will Be Better! :)
"Mom?" I whisper through my mom's bedroom door in the dark of the night. The only thing that escapes the bottom of the door is sobbing sounds. "Mom, are you okay?" Again, she doesn't talk, just cries. I glance up at the simple, black-rimmed clock the hangs on a wall in the messy living room. It's 2:45 in the morning. Even though the moon is out, the living room is still dark. Slowly, I grab the door knob and open the door to find her curled up under a single blue comforter, shaking from all the sobbing she has been doing. Her tangled, dark brown hair is spread out all around her head, and tear tracks are stained onto her pale cheeks. In her hand is a single picture of her and my father, General Finnick Odair. For a whole year, he has been at war in some small country that I've never heard of, and ever since my mother and I got the letter that he is coming back in a week two days ago, she hasn't left this room. In the picture, they actually look happy. Of course she would be happy; it was her perfect wedding day. Then, everything started going downhill. My father's personality has changed ever since he went into the military when I was seven. At first, he was this sweet guy who loved my mom and would do anything for her and me. When he joined the military, though, he started to become cold and rude. He started drinking and getting into trouble with his war troupe and the media. Rumors spread, and controversies started growing. Before my mother and I knew it, my father had turned into the infamous war hero that we wished we didn't know. Sure, he is the best of the best, but nobody outside of our family's apartment in New York City really knows him.
"Go back to sleep, I'm fine." She chokes out, crying even harder. I've never seen her like this before. She has always been either quiet and anxious-looking or happy and smiling, but never crying her eyes out. Or, at least not that I have heard.
"No, Mom, you're not fine." I mutter, hurrying over to where she is laying. My bronze, brown streaked hair flies behind my head as I quickly sit down on the comforter next to her, brushing away the scattered, crumpled tissues. Cautiously, I put my hand on her back, and she starts freaking out. Her arms are flying around every which way and her legs are kicking blindly in front of her.
"Albany, leave me alone!" she shrieks, backing away from me. She pushes herself off of her bed and cowers into the corner of the room. "I don't want you to see me like this. Go back to bed."
"Mom, please! Let me help you this one time. I want to help you." My high-pitched voice pleads as I creep towards her. Her sea green eyes stare at me with sorrow and confusion as I get closer to her. When my father comes back, I will have only one question for him: how could he do this to his own wife? He doesn't even care about her anymore, he only cares about himself. Instead of saying anything, my mom just shakily stands up and launches herself into my arms. Instantly, she starts bawling, and the shoulder of my striped blue and gray shirt quickly becomes soaked with tears. We stand there for a long time, and I don't disturb her. At least I am as tall as she is, so I don't have to bend over or stand on my toes to get to her height. This is one of the only times I have ever got through to her. Even though we both feel the same amount of pain because of my father, she always keeps to herself. She locks herself in her and my father's bedroom whenever my father is home, and whenever he wants to come in, she locks herself in their closet. I've actually seen it. Finally, after a minute, she pulls away from me, wiping away her tears. I wish I knew what I could tell her to make her feel better, but I don't. I've never been good with words.
"Go back to bed, and don't come back in here. Ever." Mom orders, sniffling lightly. Her voice actually sounds really scary, compared to the voice she normally has.
"But Mom, I just-"
"Get out, now!" she yells, pointing at the door. "I don't want you coming in here again." Unexpected tears forming in my eyes, I stomp over to the door.
"I just wanted to help, Mom." I spit out, ripping the door open and heading out of her bedroom. Angrily, I march down the hall to my tiny bedroom and pull the door open. Once I'm inside, I slam the door shut and flop onto the stiff bed. If only my father wasn't like he is, we wouldn't be having these problems. I bite my lip to hold back tears as I reach over to my nightstand next to my bed to grab the only thing that can bring me comfort in moments like this: my iPod. Quietly, I turn it on, stick my earbuds in my ears, and play the song I was listening to last time: Eyes Open by Taylor Swift. Drifting into sleep, the words start to finally make sense to me.
What do you think? Good? Bad? 'Meh'? Please review! :D Hope you liked it! Sorry it's short...
RANDOM WORDS OF THE DAY:
"If you don't stand for something, you'll fall for anything."
-SopranoGhostWriter :)
