Ours To Be (All Ours, #1)

Chapter 34

You would think I'd hate Monday. Surprisingly, I don't. I like knowing that I've got the entire week before me. It kinda feels like you have something to look forward to.

Would it be morbid of me to say it reminds me of my childhood?

Whenever things would turn to shits, I would try to remind myself of things that I was looking forward to. It could be something as simple as knowing that I had plans to go to the mall with the girls in a couple of days. A weekend away with Richen and my grandparents. I would think about that and know that if I kept going- even if it was for one shitty day- the good things were on their way. 

That's the only thing that kept me going throughout those years.

Those years of life have taught me how absolutely accurate the saying ''money doesn't buy happiness'' is. No amount of gifts or trips could make up for the miserable, shell of a human being I had become.

My father twisted my mind so forcefully, I started to think of all men as the enemy. I repulsed them. But most of all, I was afraid of them. All of them. It didn't matter how nice they were, I just couldn't look them in the eye until I was literally 20 years old and on my own. I started getting braver and if I thought I'd matured fast while growing up, I was in for a helluva surprise when the responsibilities of having to do everything on your own kicked in.

Fortunately, responsibility is practically my middle name. I fucking raised a kid that wasn't even mine to raise. You shouldn't have to raise your own sibling. No matter how much I love him.

I don't want to hold on to this bitterness but every time a text like this comes through, it all just comes rushing back, bringing up sheer waves of loathing for what I had to go through.

A text from my mother, to be specific. She said she misses me and I guess the guilt of not even remembering the last time I spent a day with her overweighted the dread for the outcome of what it would possibly bring to be around her.

To be fair, I have never loathed my mother a day in my life. Sure, I pitied her, I was angry at her for willingly staying in a toxic marriage, but I never hated her. She was a good mother and I will never hold her accountable for my father's mental health going to shits. That is not anyone else's fault but his.

Richen is a real mommy's-boy, to this fucking day, so he tries to visit her at least twice a month. But I know he can't look our father in the eyes much longer than I can. We refuse to. No matter how much we hear he's changed. I don't know how to at this point.

''How's everything at home, Mama?''

She eyes me over the rim of her coffee cup. I decided to take her to her favorite dessert spot she always took me to as a kid.

''Why do you ask, baby?''

I swallow a bit of my own cappuccino down before I force myself to fully meet her eyes.

''It's just...'' I stammer. ''Alexander.'' That's all I have to say for her to know exactly what I mean.

Her eyes harden the way they always do when I call him by his first name. ''He is your Dad, Isabella,''

''He is my father,'' I correct her. ''Not my dad.''

Her eyes moderate in perception. ''My girl, don't you think it's time?''

''No, Mama.'' It really isn't- nor do I think it'll ever be.

Her eyes gloss over as her lips tighten. I know she's holding back tears. ''He is your dad. He has changed and wants his children back in his life.''