Picasso // h.s.

1.

on my 9th birthday i caught my father with another man in our bathroom. scared and confused he approached me and told me i couldn't tell anyone. he bribed me until one day i accidentally slipped up.

i was then 9 1/2 and was at the zoo with my mother and i asked her,
"mother, can two men be together?"

she was confused due to the fact i had always been a sheltered child, neither of my parents even cursed when i was around.

she demanded i told her where i'd thought of this and my reply was,
"daddy told me i can't tell anyone."

my mother confronted him about it, which ultimately led to the discovery of the affair, and the divorce of my parents.

my father left with the man, and my mother "needed time to find herself," so i, not even 10, standing merely 3 ft tall was left with my great aunt peggy , who thought telephones were invented by aliens.

now 17, i stand at 5 ft and my mother still hasn't returned, i guess she isn't looking hard enough for herself.

"Madeline, your boyfriend is here." her cracking voice lingered through the air.

"send him up." i sighed as footsteps pounded up the stairs.

Adam was cute, don't get me wrong. but he was overly attached to me and it has merely been 2 months. 

"hi babe," he chirped as if he hadn't seen me at school hours before.

"what brings you here?" i paused pulling my slouching sock up.

"i was wondering if you wanted to go to my families lake house tomorrow, just me and you?" he smirked as if i cared and i sighed nodding.

he sat next to me tracing shapes into my thigh, but i couldn't help that i felt nothing. I don't mean to be a terrible person, but i feel nothing. no sympathy, no compassion, no love. every time he tells me he "loves" me i cringe and nod. It is such a powerful word for something about as deep as a kiddie pool.

he soon left, claiming to need to pack, and i calmly sat in the bathroom, getting high and wishing for something more than this.