The Concert. Part 4
A story of a young girl trying to figure out a mystery… Part 4
I scoffed. ‘Wait a minute… I never told you about how I spilled water on her.’ I told dad. Dad murmured under his breath something. I was pretty sure that dad murmured ‘Oh shit’. ‘What did you say?’ I asked. ‘You did tell me on the way to the FBI’ ‘No, I didn’t’ ‘Yes, you did. You have a bad memory’ ‘What? I have the best memory in our family.’ I defended myself. ‘Honey, after the accident you have been pretty sad and angry. You are pressuring yourself too much. You are gonna get to bed the moment we reach home. Capisce?’ I didn’t reply as I was trying my best to remember when I told him about it. ‘Amelia Ryan Cruz, are you listening to me or not?’ He said gravely. ‘Uh, what?’ He shook his head. ‘You are gonna get to bed the moment we reach home. Capisce?’ ‘Capisce.’
I changed into my ‘crying mood’ pajamas. Collapsed down on my bed and started to process all my thoughts. Here is how I spent my night. Crying. Crying. Sleeping. Washroom. Angry. Crying. Crying. Sleeping. Sleeping. Drinking water. Angry. SUPER ANGRY. Crying. Sleeping. Sleeping and so on.
‘Yaaaaaawwwwwwn’ ‘Great! A morning without mom’ I said sarcastically. I freshened up, bathed, changed clothes, and followed the rest of my morning routine. After I was done, I went outside. ‘WOAH BABY!’ The living room was a TOTAL mess. The coffee table was laying upside down with the glass cracked. The TV had a huge knife stuck in between. All the vases and pots were broken. Half of the wall frames which were originally above had fallen, cracked. Someone had tried to peel the wallpaper but didn’t do it well. Dad was in one of the chairs, sleeping with a wine bottle in his hand. The only person I could think of who could believe ALL of this and the rest of everything and can help me is — Violet. I quickly took my go-to bag with all my essentials and of course my phone and left to go to Violet’s home. Violet was my best friend, she is in high school. She is a brunette, a lot older than me. She is the ‘mom’ type of friend. Always asking if I need something. She doesn’t live far away.
Check out the Part 5!
~Arya Bhingradia
A baker, a student, a dancer, a writer, an artist, a daughter, a best friend. Ready to kill someone if they hurt someone I love. In need of a pet.
