THE MUSIC BOX (chapter 2.3)

Hi, this is sort of long but please read, it's coming up to a main bit so yeah....lol

As the car pulled up in the drive way, I could feel tears already filling up my eyes, blurring my vision, so I quickly got out of the car, even though it was still moving, and rushed to the front door. I could hear my dad immediately stop the car with a screech and a curse. I tried to open the door when I realized that it was locked and mum has the key. Hastily brushing away my already fallen tears, I ask my mum to please open it. She looked at me with a strange expression on her face but did as I said.

Rushing up to my room, slamming the door, I fell on my bed and just cried. Yep. I poured my heart and soul out. I cried for everything. Grandpa dying, that D minus I got in math, Ashley Pollard teasing me at school, but most of all I cried because of my cousins. I thought we were friends. Best friends. Together through all the bad, they had said. Then something happens that was out of my control and they stuck their claws out and are all over me.

After a while, there were no more tears that could be shed, and my stomach was grumbling hungrily. “Oh shut up” I said to my stomach, after one particularly loud growl. Great. Now I am talking to myself. First step to becoming crazy is talking to oneself. I jump off the bed, and then regreted it. Black spots blur my vision and I sway a little. I plunk myself back on bed so I don’t fall over. The black blotches finally disappear and I get up again, carefully this time, and go downstairs to the kitchen. Nearing my “mums only” area AKA the kitchen, I can smell cooking. Yum, my favourite meal. Tandoori chicken and yellow rice.  “What’s the occasion?” I think to myself, since mum only cooks this stuff when it’s my birthday or Christmas or someone died. Well I guess that’s why. Grandpa. A ball of emotion appears in my stomach, but I am not going to let it show. I saunter into the kitchen, towards the dinner table. Our house’s dining area and kitchen are in the same big room. Kind of weird but at least it’s easy to get food from the kitchen to the table.

Dad is already setting the table, usually my job but I guess he heard me crying so he left me alone. My dad and mum are the coolest. But there is something out of order in this familiar scene. Sure mums cooking and dad’s leaning back on his chair to get a good look at the blaring TV that’s still on, now that he’s finished with the table, but they both look …different somehow and there’s a piece of paper, a letter, on the dining table. Mum’s rules strictly state that:

“There are to be no distractions on the dining table before, during or after meals. This includes newspapers, letters, and game boys, TVs, books, novels or anything else that would stop us from talking during ‘family time.’”

Yep we have family time every dinner we just sit and talk. Talk about anything important or unimportant, it doesn’t really matter.

That was the weird thing. There was an actual letter on the table.

I know it was long, but thanks for reading :) all will be explained hopefully, in the next chapter lol