His Little Flower (Felix and Flora) novel Chapter 8

Why would he say that? The feelings I had for Felix were real. The feelings Felix had for me real. He couldn’t erase that with this statement about teenage immaturity.

“It was real, Tommy.” I didn’t realize how harsh my tone was till his eyes widened a little, and he took a step back.

“Geez,” He raised his hands in defense, “Sorry, Flora. I didn’t mean to attack your relationship.”

“I’m sorry.” I muttered.

“What happened with him then?”

I licked my lips before answering. “We, um…” I sighed. “Life happened, I guess.”

He frowned, but he did not push it further. What had happened, anyway? How could I condense it into one sentence, a small explanation? How would I explain it to Felix without upturning my whole life?

Tommy and I shared a cigarette before driving home. I had picked up smoking a few months ago. I hadn’t wanted to, but it had gone from smoking with him sometimes, to having bought a pack for myself. I knew I shouldn’t do it, but it was alright, I didn’t want to live that long anyway.

I struggled to take the bags of groceries to my flat alone, and Tommy offered to help, but I had to decline. Dad would ask too many questions, and he would cook up some story about how I was having sex with Tommy for money, or something insane like that.

After I finally made it upstairs, I began to unbag the groceries and place them in our small fridge and the rest in the small cupboard we called our pantry. I could hear the TV blasting in the background as Dad watched a basketball game.

“You making dinner?” He yelled from the living room.

“Yes.” I yelled back. “Just a while, Dad.”

He didn’t respond, but in a few seconds, I saw him walk into the kitchen. He grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and downed almost half of it. He turned to me and began to look through the brown packets of groceries on the counter. I didn’t pay him much attention, thinking he was looking for something.

“Where’s my cigarettes?”

Oh no.

Dad grabbed the nearest thing he could find – it was a glass of water, and threw it on the floor. “Fuck!” He yelled, before he stalked out. I heard the front door slam shut behind him as he left the house.

I had to take a minute to breathe. I took several deep breaths.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

I got some ice from the freezer and rubbed it on my eye. It hurt, but this wasn’t the first time I was

doing it. The first time I had cried, screamed and yelled, cursing my fate and all of life’s cruel plans. But it had been so long now, I knew there was no point to it.

I need to get out of here, soon. Out of here, soon. As soon as can be. Please.