The Forbidden

4 - Too Late

Upon seeing me, my grandmother rushed over and pulled my head to her lap, consoling me.

Somehow, she managed to coax me onto the bed, and she sits with her back against the wall, while I lay with my head in her lap, tears still pouring from my eyes.

"Everything..." my aunts voice flows into the room, and I stare at her blankly. "Is not alright," she finishes, and walks over to my grandma and I and sits at the foot of the bed.

I continue to stare blankly at the wall, feeling my grandma caress my hair again.

Am I really worthless? Not only have all of my past boyfriends said that I am, but now my cousin. It must be true.

All of my past boyfriends said I was too easy. I was worthless and that's why my parents don't love me.

They claimed that their yelling at me was love, but I know it wasn't. They had called it constructive criticism.

While I may not know what love is, whether to feel it or be shown it, I know that's them yelling at me is not love.

'You're nothing without your penthouse and your parents money!'

That's true. My parents paid for the penthouse and all the apartments I had ever stayed in. I had been raised in high standard places my entire life. My entire life had been spent in expensive rooms, and shopping in only high end stores. There was no Walmart trips or trips to Dollar Tree.

If I even stepped foot in one of the modern stores, my parents next action would be to call me and ask me what I was doing and why I was going to places where sketchy people go.

The worst part about being wealthy and your parents wanting you to want everything you see as you pass a store, is not liking to shop. I loathe it. I hate shopping. I hate people. I hate being in public.

And the rare times I would spoil myself, I would be alone, where no one could judge me for going into Hollister and just getting a hat and a flannel.

'Gi, you have so much money at your fingertips! Why don't you spend any of it?' My best friend, Hailey, had once asked me.

I don't want to simply spend. I had been raised in private schools around highly privileged children like myself.

But, somehow, my mind always trailed back to, 'if I didn't have all this money how could I survive?' So I had come to a solution, as long as I spent $100 or less on wants per month, I was alright, I could survive on my own because I didn't need to fulfill all of my wants. I gave myself a limit and followed it so I could survive without my parents if I needed to.

Heck, my allowance is $500 a month. I add $200 to a separate account for when my parents cut me off, and I know they will, and I use that as my savings account, leaving the $200 a month I don't spend in the account so it doesn't raise my parent's suspicions.

Though, Jake is right, I couldn't survive without my parents money, no matter how much I want to deny. I wish the circumstances were different, but they won't be.

"Giana, honey," my grandmother says, "why were you laying in the floor?"

"Anxiety attack," I say softly, staring at the wall still, and glancing up at her through the corner of my eye.

"Do your parents know you have them?" Aunt Cynthia asks me, and I shake my head.

"They don't know I have a therapist," I reply monotonously.