Photograph
A/N : Here's chapter 2! Thanks for the reviews, they motivated me to update so much faster: ) And I have decided that instead of having a few long chapters, I will have many short chapters. So here's your first intended shorty! And BTW, if you like short chapters, (and Moliver) check out Almost Home by Suduko's Worst Victim. It's quite interesting… This chapter is Chelsea-centric, since you didn't get any of her in the first chapter.
Chapter 2
Blood
Rushing upstairs as fast as she could, Lillian quickly headed in the direction of Chelsea's room, which seemed to be the source of the crash. Jacob, Rachel, and little Brooke were tagging along at her heels. When Lillian reached the room, the door was locked.
"Chelsea!" Lillian called, knocking on the door. "What happened?" Silence.
After a few moments she knocked again. "Chelsea?" Still no reply. She was about to knock one more time when the door flew open and Chelsea stood there, clutching a towel around her and dripping wet, her right arm stained with blood. Lillian gaped at the sight and Chelsea lamely attempted to hide her arm behind her back.
"What was going on?" Chelsea's blue eyes were downcast.
"Well?" Lillian demanded after the red-headed teenager grew silent. Chelsea mumbled something and she strained her ears to hear. "What was that?" Chelsea said nothing more.
"Chelsea…" Lillian began, her tone threatening. Chelsea sucked in a breath.
"I was getting my hairbrush off of the top of the dresser, then my hand bumped into the glass vase and knocked it over on the floor, then I tripped over my algebra book and the glass cut me."
Lillian wasn't buying it. It seemed very likely that Chelsea had made up the story as a last-minute attempt. She searched her daughters' eyes in hope of detecting a hint that Chelsea was lying. But her blue eyes looked steely, she had become a pro at making things up.
"After you got out of the shower, of course." Lillian said coolly. Chelsea looked like she was about to say "Duh" but caught herself.
"Yeah."
Lillian peered around her daughter to see a messy room. A very messy room. Various articles of clothing littered the ground, as well as other objects such as school books, I-pod headphones, and a two-year-old German Shepard named Trouble who was sprawled out on his side asleep, blissfully unaware of the commotion occurring around him.
Lillian sighed for the second time that day.
"I'll let you off with peroxide and band-aids if you clean this room. Now." Chelsea nodded, but looked angry about it. Shutting the door Lillian rubbed her temples exasperatedly, and was about to walk downstairs to get the peroxide and bandages when she almost tripped over Brooke.
"Oh, you guys, you know you shouldn't eavesdrop." She scolded, and all three children looked at their feet.
Without another word Lillian continued downstairs, retrieved the items and set them down in front of Chelsea's door, then announcing to her daughter the delivery. On the other side of the door Chelsea was dressed and sitting on her bed, staring out a window blankly. She hadn't meant to cut herself…she had been brushing her hair then slipped on the wet tile of the bathroom floor, cutting herself on the sharp corner of the counter and knocking over an old soap dish she had made in second-grade pottery class and never managed to throw away in the process.
Chelsea felt her eyes brim with tears and wiped them away hurriedly. She had made another stupid mistake, proved she was a complete klutz again. She had made a fool out of herself, and felt embarrassed even though no one had been watching.
Being valued was important to Chelsea. Ever since…her father had walked out on the family, life had taken a major nosedive. It was bad enough as it is being adopted… Chelsea subconsciously clenched her hands into fists at the thought of the man she hated so much.
She didn't always hate him.
She just hated him for leaving. His absence always reminded her that he was just one more person that didn't care about her. Her biological parents had abandoned her at birth, but Chelsea was told that even before that her mother had walked out on the tiny family leaving her and her father, who, apparently, couldn't handle taking care of her without a female influence. At least, that's what Lillian said. She had always suspected that he just didn't want her, just like her adopted father who didn't want her now. She looked down at her cut. Blood was still trickling from it, but there was no pain. She shut her eyes.
She had never thought of cutting herself before… But now she desperately wanted to cut herself again. Walking over to her desk, she pulled open a drawer and took out a picture of her father, studying him. He had dark blonde hair and almost a goofy smile.
Walking back over to the window, she ripped the picture in half and threw it out, watching the wind carry the halves far away. And with that, the last object relating to her father was gone.
Quickly getting the bandages and peroxide from outside her door, she cleansed the wound and covered it. But when she was done, she walked back into the bathroom, took out a razor, and dragged it down her wrist, unable to stop herself.
She told herself it wasn't her fault; it was her father's. Both of them.
