"When you feel like there is nothing else matter, you just feel like unable to breath because you finally realise that even the oxygen you're breathing is polluted."
-Sara Keddar
Consumed by social media. Zelda Williams finds herself anonymously hi...
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As soon as my feet met with the cold floor of the main floor, I walked into the kitchen only to hear chattering coming from the dining room. Pulling my robe tighter around my body, I walked into the room I hadn't been in for weeks. My parents had both their business laptops out and were typing away.
My mom was the first to notice me, she didn't say anything but smile. It was almost like old times, but it soon faded when she turned to look back at her laptop.
"When did you guys get home?," I spoke as my body felt like it was beginning to shrink.
"Last night," Dad spoke but his attention was focused on his computer.
"How come you guys didn't tell me?," I looked at both of them, but neither of them looked up.
"We're sorry darling," Mom glanced at me and that's when her phone started ringing. "Ken make another pot of coffee." Mom smiled and swiftly moved passed me.
"Dad-why isn't Marie making the coffee?," I sat across from my father, this time he took his eyes off of his computer.
"Marie asked for a family day," Dad glared and waited for me to nod my head for him to continue working.
"Why?," I kept pushing, even if it wouldn't get me anywhere.
"I don't know," Dad shook his head, getting up he walked past me to rub my head.
I was irked, my parents never gave me the time of day. Even when they had been gone for weeks, they were only concerned about their jobs.
"Zelda would you come here," Dad shouted and I quickly made my way down to the kitchen. "Who was over last night?," Dad held the two mugs Lincoln and I had had hot chocolate in.
"Lennie," I answered quickly and pulled my robe even tighter.
"Lennie?," Dad glared at me. "That's bullshit," Dad walked closer to me holding one of the mugs. "Do you see this?," Dad showed me the smudged hand print, that was obviously from Lincoln. "This is a boy's hand," Dad was inches from my face.
"It wasn't Lennie. A friend and I from school had a project," I could feel my body begin to shake. "I made us hot chocolate," Hot tears stung my cheek as the sound of the mug came crashing down on the floor.
"You clean this mess up. You hear me," Dad pulled on my robe so I fell to the floor, my knees hitting into tiny pieces of broken glass.
Mom came rushing from down the hall, only to have a look of irritation in her face.
"What the hell is this?," Mom glared at me and then at dad.
"Our daughter had a boy over and decided she was going to f-king lie to me," Dad seethed, as he shot daggers at me.
"Go to the dining room," Mom patted dad on the back and he walked passed me, his shoes crunching on the glass. "You clean this up," Mom handed me the broom and duster.
