Some Lonely Feeling ✧ H.S. A.U.

Chapter 20;

I have read through this/edited it too many times and I'm tired of seeing it, so I decided to publish it so I wouldn't have to look at it ever again.. Here you go. :) 

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2 weeks later...

I straightened my black dress slowly while simultaneously taking in a heavy breath. Slowly I rose my hand to the doorbell ringing it. God, the house is so big. I can't believe I travelled all the way here to visit them for an hour, I thought. Two hours of driving honestly wasn't worth this. I had no desire to see, talk, or generally associate with my parents at all, but with the spare time I had since Harry left a couple weeks ago; I figured I might as well. I looked down at my attire. Why are you even trying to impress them? I questioned. I pushed a few strands of hair out of my face, as I began to grow irritant, "Claire!" my dad joyfully opened the huge wooden door. He outspread his arms ready for a hug, which I weakly gave back, "Oh my! I've missed you so much!" he smiled, "You never call, and you never answer when I try to get a hold of you! Oh my god, how's school? You must be so busy an-"

"Dad," I chuckled softly, trying to ease the uncomfortable feeling inside, "I think it'd be best to answer the questions when I get inside, right?" 

He let out an odd noise, barely able to function with the excitement practically bursting out of him,  "Right, right," he laughed, "Oh, Marie, oh Claire's here!" he said turning his head, yelling through the large house. I assumed my mother was in the living room, but I had never been inside, all except once a year ago since they moved in, and honestly I had no clue where she would be. I heard her make a sound somewhat similar to 'Ohhh,' in a high pitched voice, "Come on sweetie. Come in!" my dad gestured me to walk forward. 

I followed my father through the large entrance, only being slightly surprise by the sight of the massive stairwells going up to the second floor from both the left and right. Going between the steps was another entrance leading into the living room, which from there led left to the kitchen, which from there led a million other places. Soon, after bringing it upon himself to give me a tour of the entire house, which took ages, he took me to sit in the living room where I noticed my mother packing some boxes up, "Oh my baby," she smiled turning her head up to look at me, "I missed you so much," she laughed scurrying by my dad to the opposite couch across from me.

It didn't take long before the dreadful conversations started, "Alright, Claire why don't you catch us up here," my dad enquired smiling widely, "How's school been?" he asked, "You must be making so many friends! You were always so social..."

Wrong, I thought; shows how much they honestly knew about me. I was never social, but the only huge difference from age thirteen to now is that I was capable to tolerate people, which now didn't appeal to me at all. But, even when I was younger I only had my small group of friends, but instead of explaining the situation, I let them think what they wanted; I always did, "No, I don't really bother with people at school," I said, "And we're on break right now, so there's not much I can tell you..."

My dad looked confused, "Oh right," he laughed abruptly changing expression nudging my mom, who seemed oddly captivated in me, "Well, how about that boy you were talking to a year ago, how did things end up with him?"

That was the perfect example of how distant my parents and I were. That boy, was dead, and they never knew, because I never talked to them, and not because they weren't trying, but because I pushed them away. But, who can blame me? When I was twelve, both my mom and my dad, being in their thirties, for some reason decided to go back to school. Me, I guess, being too much of a nuisance while they were working to get their degree's, gave them all the reason to ship me off with my aunt for the remaining six years before I was eighteen and old enough to go off on my own. That's why I never talked to them. All my life up to that point we were close, or I thought we were, until I found out I was their second choice over their own lives. It felt like betrayal, and I wanted nothing from them past that point, and it bothered me that now, all of a sudden they wanted to talk to me and be involved with me. It felt as if now that they had served themselves, here I was, their backup, and they were ready for me, and prepared to take up their role as parents; finally. The worst part was their excuses for it all. My dad told me it was my mom's idea to send me off, and that oh she was nothing but, 'mentally ill, and very stressed.' But, if you asked my mother, she said it was my dad's idea, and that he just, 'thought it was best.' After thinking this all through I decided to answer, "Well, I was dating him for year, and like a month, and um, he died in a car crash," I replied. I decided not to tell them I was in the crash, mainly that would lead into a further discussion on the topic, and I already had decided that there was no need for a inspirational detailed story because I knew they generally didn't care all that much.