Awkward. This is so fucking awkward. I arrived to my mother's bright smile and my father's tight hug. I know I don't have another option beside to meet them when I come, but I don't think I will come to ... this. They greets me like nothing had happened, like I wasn't the worst daughter on the planet. Like I didn't do something that hurt them. Especially mom. That's why, I think, that's why I can't act the same. My smile is crooked and forced. My hug wasn't as tight. They clearly want to play it cool, like anything I did didn't matter, but I can't .... The guilt resurfaces. Shit. "You look good, Baby Girl." "Thanks, Daddy." "You must be very busy, Sweetie." Fuck. "Yes, uhm ... yes. I was. I-I still am." "We ... missed you," says Mom with a sad curves of her lips. Double fuck. I can't. I just ... can't. "Uhm, yeah. Me ... me too." I clear my throat. I look around. I try to find an escape. I have to get out of here. "Oh, there she is! I guess I have to congratulate the brid

"You know," he continues, still folding, his back is still on me. "I like you. I do. Because you were always there when I needed someone to listen to me, or when I wanted to just be. I like it because you can be, like, my ego booster." He turns and winks. "And ... I really like the sex. Man, they were really really good." He grabs the folded shirts and puts them in the black duffel bag. "I think I'm gonna miss that when I'm gone."He then starts folding his pants. "But," he pauses and shakes his head. "Nah, I'm going to be in LA, for God's sake. How hard can it be to find pu—. Sorry. Never mind." Nate chuckles, again, then shakes his head, again. "Man." He sighs. "Can't wait to be there and start living the dream."Nate keeps doing what he's doing; gathering his things and stuffing them into another duffel—this one is faded dark blue-grey with a cheap brand emblem on it—when the other one is full. And, he keeps talking. "Seriously, though. Maybe I'm going to miss you, after all. I wi

Something somewhere is startling me, waking me up. I can't figure out my whereabout. I can't remember the last thing I did. Where am I? Until at last my skin picks up the feeling of the hard and cold surface beneath me. So my best bet is I'm on the floor. That must be why, after I gain more consciousness, I'm feeling like my limbs are made of wood, looking at how stiff they are.I sit up so, so, so slowly and groggily. The world starts to spin a little. Damn. My head hurts something fierce.Damn it. Everything hurts. Why? I try to lift my lids, to open my eyes, but it's like someone had glued them together. My eyeballs keeps rolling behind my lids. I feel them shaking. But, they won't budge. It sure is a highly challenging task to do.After some real efforts, in the end, I succeed. From behind my half closed eyes, I see the room I'm in is pretty dark, the only light is from the bulb on the corridor outside that filters in and gives my tired hazels a chance to recognize my surround

I slept eight hours straight for the first time in three weeks. Maybe it have something to do with my best friend's presence—she's still sleeping and hogging the bed, by the way, that girl—or, it's just that I feel so much lighter after unloading my baggage last night. Poor best friend had to listen to all of that. Maybe that's why she's still asleep. My drama is keeping her tied to the bed. Or, she's just dealing with her food coma. We couldn't be so sure which one is right with her. I pad to the kitchen and color me not so surprise to see Tom already sits on one of the stool, a steaming mug of coffee on the breakfast bar in front of him, phone in his hand. "Good sleep?" he asks, diverting his vision from the screen to me. I am met with dark pools of understanding. It's comforting and terrifying at the same time. This guy. Morwenna is sooo lucky to have him for better or worst."Yeah," I croak, then clear my throat. I haven't brush my teeth. I haven't wash my face. Even my hair

"I think I'm done." I wake up from the stupor I was in and put the milkshake back onto the table at last. Then I clean my hands with the napkin. Dump the dirty paper on my plate. At the very last, I paste the fakest smile on my face and direct it to Mo. She knows. She knows what I'm honestly asking of her. Get me out of here. She slaps the same fake smile as quick. However it is a little slanted, making her look like she's battling constipation right now. My smile morphs into something a bit more real. Only her. I internally shake my head. But, I still need to get out of this hell, like five seconds ago."Linc, can we get these boxed? I'm sorry, but suddenly I have this urge to eat at home where I can stretch my legs and watch some bad TV with my best friend. You know, enjoying the good life."What the heck? What is she talking about? Only her. Indeed, only MY best friend. "Okay." Lincoln's voice pictures his bewilderment perfectly. I still don't have the nerve to look at him.