A/N:
Hi guys. I know it's been a really long time and you've all probably given up on this story. I don't blame you, I would too. Back in December, I had a friend killed in a car accident and I just kind of lost all of my will to write. I've been slowly trying to pull myself out of my misery and do something that makes me happy. I focused all of my time towards school and dance and just myself and general, and I realized that in order to fully be myself, I need writing. It's my crutch in life. So, without further ado, I give you Chapter 8.
There's something about waking up in your own room for the first time in a week that just gives a person some sort of sense of peace. It was probably just peaceful to me because it was the first pleasant surprise that I'd had since Ella's disappearance. The house was quiet. There was none of the usual clanging and clattering of pots and pans in the kitchen. Dad wasn't singing as he got ready for work. That's because he was staying with Aunt Lacey. The night before,, when I was released from the hospital, Mom informed me that Dad would be staying with Aunt Lacey in Boulder, Colorado for a while. She said it would 'speed up everyone's recovery'. So basically, my dad had ditched me and my mother without giving me any kind of warning or goodbye. It would have been nice to know that he was alive and well before he decided to take off without having a care in the world. With the downward spiral that my life was heading into though, I wasn't surprised.
When I had collected my thoughts and I was sure that my mom wasn't downstairs, I decided to get up and grab something to eat, and call Fang while I was up. I grabbed my cell off of my dresser and dialed his number as I walked down the staircase. "Hello?" He answered. "Hey, I got released last night," I told him. Fang had to leave on Friday night because his mom was going out of town on business and he needed to stay home with his dad and little sister, Angel. "That's awesome. How's the arm?" He asked me. I shrugged my shoulders as if he and I were talking face to face. "It hurts a bit, but I guess that's what broken limbs do. Why don't you meet me at the park at 11:30? I need to get out of this house and explain to you the latest update for my newly-dysfunctional family," I asked him. He laughed. "Sounds like a plan, Maxie. I'll see you then. Love you," he told me. "Love you too," I said and hung up the phone. Walking into the kitchen, I looked around me. Everything looked relatively the same. The only thing missing was my parents. Usually, they were singing and cooking and getting ready for the day. Tears prickled my eyes as I fixed myself a bowl of cereal. I didn't dare cry, though. I'd cried enough and my face and throat were sore from all of the crying that I had done as of late. Instead, I sat there and ate my bowl of cereal, preparing myself for the day. I told myself that I had to carry on, through the midst of tragedy.
