CHAPTER TWO
1203 Words
RILEY
Daddy didn't come home that night. I had stormed away from the restaurant after saying a piece of my mind, hoping he would feel remorse and come home earlier than usual.
But what did I get?
A too-large, empty house, no father, and a nosy nanny.
The door opened, and my nanny poked her head in. Great. Just who I needed to see.
“Riley, darling. Stop hanging your head upside down and go to sleep already. It's almost midnight,” she said, and I sighed, rolling my eyes at her.
“Go away, Esther,” I said, though I knew her name was Nancy – I just never bothered to remember it.
She frowned.
“My name's Nancy, thank you very much,” her tone was slightly irritated and I sighed again.
Esther. Nancy. Hannah. Becky. Betty. Anne.
I never learned or bothered with their names. They never stayed for long anyway.
“Right. Just go away and close my door. You're disturbing me,” I shooed her away and turned to face the wall, my thoughts wandering back to daddy.
I loved my father so much, but I never seemed to understand why he was so obsessed with work.
Sometimes, I feel like he doesn't love me. No, not sometimes. Most times. All the time.
Because if he loved me, then he would spend more time with me.
Nobody loved me. Well, maybe except Jackson. But Jackson was not my father.
And I was pretty sure that if my mummy loved me, she would have stayed.
I sighed.
Still, I haven't seen my mother before. I didn’t even have the slightest idea of what she looked like.
But my father, the one parent I knew and loved with all my heart, preferred his company over me.
Oh. What woe have befallen me?
I giggled at my last thought.
I saw the word ‘woe’ in a book I read at our school library, and using it made me feel very intelligent.
Woe.
Oh my goodness, what woe is this?
Whose woe had arrived?
My sentences made me giggle, and my heart lightened for a brief while.
But it didn't last long. I wish Dad was here with me, laughing at my use of the word and correcting me.
But he wasn't here. My best and correct guess was that he was in his office, head buried in a file.
I sighed again and sat up. I wasn't sleepy, and if my guess was correct, I would not be sleeping for a while.
Might as well do something productive.
So I stood up and walked to my desk, flipping open my science textbook.
Within an hour, I had finished all my science assignments, written my English essay and one more. I was about to bring out my sketchbook and do a few sketches when my the wall clock chimed, catching my attention.
It was three am.
I had studied far more than I intended to.
Closing back my sketchbook, I walked back to my bed and slumped on it.
There was still no sigh of dad yet. And I had school tomorrow, so I really needed to go back to bed.
But I was still restless, so I stood up again, grabbed my sketchbook, and walked out of my room.
The house was empty as always, and tears filled my eyes as I stood at the top of the staircase.
I desperately wanted dad here, with me, in the house. Then maybe I would not feel so lonely.
I sniffed and started to make my way downstairs.
I stepped quietly, not wanting to wake up my nanny. That grumpy old girl would just scold me and send me back to bed.
So I held my breath and crossed to my father's study. My hand on the doorknob. I wondered for a while if he was in there.
My excitement grew at the thought. Of course. That made sense. I had been in my room all day. What if he was already inside and I had no idea?
I turned the knob gently, and the door swung open to reveal an empty desk, and my heart dropped.
Of course, what was I expecting? I had gotten my hopes up when I should have known better.
Still, the sight of this study, lifeless and empty, made me feel nostalgic for no reason. So I walked inside and settled on his chair.
The chair was too big for me, and I barely reached the table, so I placed my sketchbook on my lap and started to sketch, my imagination running wild.
I made sketches of me and daddy in a park, of both of us reading a book together. Of us making watercolor paintings together.
Maybe I just needed to try harder.
Maybe if I stopped being angry every time I saw him, he would come home more often.
Maybe if he saw my sketches, he would see how much I missed him and wanted to spend time with him.
I kept drawing until I dozed off in the big, plushy chair.
“Come on. Get up. You're late for school already,” Nancy's disapproving voice floated through my sleep-fogged brain and I opened my eyes groggily.
“Leave me alone,” I whined, but she wasn't having any of that. So she shook me until I sat up and rubbed my eyes.
I looked around, and was surprised to see that I was back in my room.
“Did you bring me here?” I asked her, and the genuine confusion on her face immediately gave me a clue as to who did it.
Daddy.
I rushed out of my room and went into the study. But he was nowhere to be found. My sketchbook was sitting prettily on his desk though, and I grabbed it as anger rose in me.
He was home.
He came home and met me sleeping, and he could not wake me up just to talk to me for a little while.
Even after seeing my sketchbook.
Even after seeing how much I wanted to spend time with him.
The thought of my daddy not wanting to talk to me soured my mood and I was grumpy all the way to school.
Sometimes I wanted to hate my father, but I loved him so much to do that.
I needed to do something. Something to make him notice me. Something to make him remember that he has a daughter.
He needed to be taught a lesson.
I didn't know what to do, no matter how hard I thought.
I was busy doodling when the idea occurred to me.
Running away.
That was my best option. I would run away from home, and go to a place where he wouldn't be able to find me.
He might not even notice, considering the fact that he spends very little time with me.
So as soon as school ended, I grabbed my school bag and left, taking care to avoid my personal driver.
If daddy doesn't want me in his life, I might as well walk away before I turn into a mere decoration in that too large, too empty house.
- Writer
