Adopted by Stromae

dix

Sleep wouldn't come to Maelle, no matter how hard she attempted to shut her eyes and try to imagine anything else but the violent death scene of her mother. It replayed in her mind like a tape rewinding over and over again, and there was absolutely nothing she could do to stop it.

Paul had attempted to help her once they'd had a silent car ride home, but she made it clear she wanted nothing to do with any of their sympathies. She didn't know what she wanted.

She had been tossing and turning since eleven, and at this point, she wasn't even sure herself if she would ever end up falling asleep. Groggily, she got out of bed without reason needed and turned on the lights to see herself in a state that seemed near death.

After staring back at reflection that didn't seem like hers in a room that didn't belong to her, she quickly decided upon the fact that she wanted to tell her father. After all, he must've knew something about what had happend. He was his wife— there must've been something more to the story.

She quickly rummaged through her pretty barren closet to find something that was more appropriate than pyjamas, but stopped herself. Then, realized she was sneaking out at three in the morning to see her drug-obsessed father in a rehabiliation centre, so she considered the possibility it wasn't that big of an occasion. She finally picked a jacket that she hadn't worn in what seemed like forever, pulling it on and deeming herself ready.

Getting there wasn't so easy of a task.

After creeping through the house and opening the front door with as much precaution as defusing a bomb— it hit her, there was a window in her room. A window she could've easily climbed through. She sighed heavily, realizing she was extremely dumb sometimes. Most of the time. How intelligent can someone be if they're doing this?

She opened Google Maps on her phone and fortunatly remembered the name of the centre which her father was staying at, which was lucky on her part. It was only a fifteen minute walk, and with her top-notch jogging skills she managed to make it in twelve. As soon as she entered, the receptionist looked at her as if she'd never seen anything more strange in her life.

She didn't fully grasp that concept, since she worked in a place that dealt with people who were addicted to drugs, but she accepted the fact.

As she was walking in, she saw another woman walk out. It took her a moment to notice this fact— but if she wasn't being delusional, she was almost one-hundread percent sure that it was the woman that had came to visit her father the last time she'd came. She shrugged it off, though, it wasn't like she needed another problem on her plate at the moment.

"I'd like to see Pascal Vaillancourt," she said firmly, hands on the desk in front of the woman on the other side.

The woman, who's nametag read Kimberly, blinked. "Visiting hours are over, honey."

"Sue me if I want to talk to my father," Maelle groaned, wondering if this entire world, or whoever created it, just hated her.

She paused for a few moments, staring Maelle up and down pitifully. "Alright. I'll see what I can do."

She thanked any higher being that this woman allowed her to see her father, or her escape voyage would've been completely ruined. She waited no more than two minutes before the same woman came back and allowed her to see her father. It didn't take much perusasion for that to happen, it seemed.

It didn't look like her father had gotten much sleep, either. "Maelle," he sighed, smiling. "It's nice to see you."

She raised her head, defiantly, and nodded. "What do you know about Mom's death?"

He stuttured, at a loss for words. If he had any authority figure over me whatsoever, he had lost it completely when he got sent here. If he had the choice, she knew he would've shot down the question completely. "I don't know, Maelle. I never knew. I thought it was accident, I never put more thought into it."

She faltered. Even though her father wasn't always honest, she could tell, at this second he was telling the truth. Even though he was going through this– she realized, in the way that she used being awful to other people as a coping mechanism, drugs was his. They both had their problems. It was probably best to see eye-to-eye on something that couldn't relate to either of them more.

"Me too," she whispered, "I just found out today that Mom killed herself."

Her father paled. "What?"

"I went to trial, they showed me video footage," Maelle teared up, feeling as if all she could do in any situation whatsoever was just cry. Was that all she was useful for? "Mom jumped in front of that truck, Dad."

"Maelle, I'm so sorry," he sighed, "I'm such a bad father. If I can't be there for you, especially at a time like this, what good am I?"

Maelle apologized as well, and hugged just like they would've done before any of this happened. After chatting naturally and feeling as if nothing had changed whatsoever, Maelle was now keen on her father's recovery process. It didn't matter how long it took, but anything to have her father back.

She would wait, even if it took years.

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a/n: hiya y'all what's poppin hope u enjoyed this chapter. we're already into the double digits hell yea this story is comin along nicely.

have a good day!! was tempted to add french but i didn't >:(