ᴜɴᴅᴏɴᴇ | ᴅ.ᴍ

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍

IT was exactly the welcome I had expected.

Our chauffeur, waiting for me outside the platform, waved to me.

Sometimes I hate myself for having such unrealistic expectations from my family when I know they're never going to live up to them.

It's mentally and physically draining.

One thing I hated about myself was having high standards and expectations from everyone. I gave them a chance over and over again to redeem themselves but all they ended up doing was disappointing me. What made it feel even worse was that all I gave out was love and kindness, and all I got in return were lies and broken promises. I should be used to all of it by now.

The chauffeur took my bags, as he opened the door of the car for me, allowing me to sit inside. The entire ride home thoughts wandered my mind back and forth, and scenarios I imagined in my head to make this reality feel better or hurt less. Don't put your happiness in other people's hands. They'll drop it. They drop it every time.

I wasn't really excited about seeing my mother in the next ten minutes. The first thing she would do is find reasons to lecture me instead of being normal and asking about my day, my health, or how I've been doing. She doesn't really care about all of that stuff much, and I can't seem to put my finger on why? Why does she have so much hatred for me? What did I ever do that created such deep, embedded hate for me? See that's the thing if someone was to ask me why I hated someone so much? I wouldn't know the answer. I don't really hate many people in my life. Hate is a strong word.

Well, just one person. But I don't really know if I hate him or not. I don't even remember why I hated him so much. Childhood Rivalry? No. It was because I saw my family in him. Cold, heartless, not caring, and the chants about pureblood supremacy. That's why I hated him. Hated. Past tense.

If I were to put him in a category of people, he would go in complicated. He was complicated, bipolar, and very confusing. There would be moments when he was the only one that was there for me, held my hand, and made sure I was okay, even though he hates to admit it. He could've not cared, but he did. Actions speak louder than words, and his actions did.

I guess my mother saw my father in me. Is that why she hates me? Because she sees him in me? There's a possibility to that answer that I could be a walking reminder of him around the house. But why me? Why not my older brother or either of my two younger sisters, why me? Gosh, why is it always me? It's like the universe ripped out all the good parts of my life from my life journal and threw it out. Now I'm stuck with all the bad, annoying parts. My life felt like a big coin toss.

I would've done everything to be Amelia right now, board games and hot chocolate with her parents at her vacation home. A bonus point for her was a cute boy next door where she could just give a small signal, and they could hook up. Thinking about hooking up, I haven't ever since that event but that wasn't the point. I wasn't going to let that part of my life get to me anymore, I wasn't going to let that part allow me to be a victim from allowing me to not do better in life. I was doing good and that's all that matters, I haven't thought about that night in weeks.

I had come to the realization that this year I haven't really put myself out there much, not since George, who moved on at a faster pace than me. Amelia had a cute boy next door, Bonnie and Theo's voices quite literally echoed a lot through the dorms, Blaise was a private guy, and Malfoy—well he's Malfoy. Then there was me, dying to let anyone fuck the pain out.

We finally arrived home as the lights were lit up all around the edges. My house had large arched windows. Through them light flows through all seasons, gracing the air without favor, illuminating the sweet-toffee browns of the wooden floor. It was a kaleidoscope of memories, of photographs adorning the walls, each of them conjuring the emotions of those sweet eternal moments, and now I hated all of them now.

The open door was welcoming as the chauffeur led my bags into the wide hallway. Upon the walls were the photographs of my siblings, obviously so loved. The floor was an old-fashioned parquet with a blend of deep homely browns and the walls were the greens of summer gardens meeting a bold white baseboard. The banister was a twirl of a branch, tamed by the carpenter's hand, its grain flowing as water might, in waves of comforting gold woodland hues.

The house was quiet as the steps of my foot against the carpeted floors felt loud. The lights were on in every room. The house consisted of ten different rooms with a bathroom accompanying it. I've practically lived in every room by now, it was an accomplishment to me.

"Mother?" I called out to her as no reply came forth. I turned towards the living room, wondering if she was asleep on the couch. She wasn't there. "Hey Adam, where's my mother and everyone else?" I asked our servant who was cleaning up the kitchen.

"Evening Ms. Evelyn, Madam Felina left with Ms. Alice and Ms.Vaquer to have dinner at the grand restaurant." He smiled at the beginning and I returned a faint smile back.

"Was she not aware that I was coming home?" I asked as he nodded yes. "Madam was aware, she asked me to make your favorite dish," he spoke as he uncovered the platter of chicken pasta along with a rectangular plate filled with chocolate-covered strawberries. "She'll be returning late at night, would you like me to set up your room?"

"No, thank you, Adam." I smiled as he slightly bowed and turned to the other room. I gently threw my coat on the couch as I sat at the table, swirling the plate of noodles around with a fork. I pushed my hair back as I began eating, the creaminess of the dish filled my mouth as for the first time I enjoyed a meal in a long time. Adam was one of the best cooks I've known, and he practically raised me, so he was aware of everything I enjoyed.

I took the chocolate-covered strawberries to my room and I swung the door open. The room was dimly lit with the vintage wall sconces that hung on the mute-colored walls like earrings. Thick velvet curtains hid the long windows across the walls, just leaving a shy peak of the woods beyond. The paintings and faded tapestry panels on the walls greeted me as I entered. I walked over to the fireplace that was accompanied by a velvet rose couch that I did not hesitate to sit on top of, and I sunk into it.

It was home but for some reason, it didn't feel like it, it felt empty and missing.

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