I pace around my tiny apartment, waiting for the other shoe to drop, glancing occasionally at my phone to see if I've been contacted.
When I told Ashley the whole ordeal, she told me she had to end the call to start planning for my burial and even went as far as asking me who and who I wanted to be at the burial.
When my phone screen lights up, I run towards it, only to find out it's just my dad calling.
“Hello, father.” I say in a cold tone once I pick up the call. In my dictionary, those two words could be taken to mean ‘Why the hell are you calling me?’ ‘how much do you need from me?’
“Aella, your tantrums have gone on for far too long. It's time to come home.” My Father says in a stern tone.
I breathe in heavily, not knowing how to express to this narcissistic person that I d
