• Chapter 1 – The Delusion of Love

    I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
    As if in slow motion, my father stood before me. Stress was carved into his face, as I braced myself for the inevitable. The hand strengthened from years of carving and woodwork slammed into my fragile cheek, causing an eruption of pain and disorientation.
    “You’re not my daughter. I don’t know you anymore.”
    It felt as if the entire ocean slammed into me, its natural force winding me and causing me to internally double over in emotional pain. I looked up into his brown eyes, and felt no love or connection to the man that was my father. Cellphone in hand, I raced out the door, blindingly clueless as to where I should go. As I ran as far away from that house as I could, tears began to stream down my face as I wept for the pain that swam inside of me. My feet directed me to Kurt’s house. Of course; while my body was full of grief and anger, unable to concentrate – let alone figure out where to go now – my internal compass always head due safety. Which just happened to be Kurt Hummels house.
    Broken down, an emotional wreck, I made my way down their concrete driveway, and tried to hold myself together long enough to knock on the door. I heard the reassuring footsteps as I hastily wiped my cheeks to slightly remove the tell-tale signs of distress. The wooden door opened to reveal the angelic face of my best friend. He looked me over before bringing me into a quick, warm embrace. I desperately tried to savour the moment as he murmured reassurance. He then took my hand and led me down the stairs to the basement. When he had first told me he wanted to live in the basement, I imagined a dusty, dirty room with a rotting bed and a moth eaten lampshade feebly lighting the room. Naturally, Kurt had become well acquainted with the Ikea catalogue and the room looked fantastically modern and was delicately decorated – not too overdone, not too bare. He sat me down on the chaise and held me in his arms as I rested my head on his shoulder, tears helplessly wetting his shirt.
    “Sorry ‘bout all this.” I snuffled through tears.
    “Don’t be silly.” He gently whispered as his thumb softly traced patterns on my hand. Although we were awkwardly positioned, it was somewhat comforting. Just the feel of his body close against mine was enough to reduce the full scale crying to annoying hiccupping.
    “I’m here now, it’s okay, I’m here now…” he repeatedly murmured, his sweet scent washing over me as I buried my head deeper into his chest, as if he could protect me from any harm.
    And he held me for an hour, as I gradually became calm enough to explain what happened. I quickly retold the story of what had taken place, silent tears snaking down my cheek at the disowning part. I still couldn’t believe it. When I had finished, he sat still for a moment, thinking. Then he turned and looked at me, his blue eyes melting my heart.
    “Come live with me.”
    I sat up, shocked. He wanted me to move in with him? Was he serious? And when I asked him just that, he chuckled and held me closer. “Of course. You have nowhere else to go; you can’t expect me to just dump you on the street and leave you to fend for yourself.” The man made a valid point, but I was still unsure.
    “I don’t want to impose…” he rolled his eyes as I slightly blushed. “I mean, I can’t just barge into your house and declare it my new home –“he cut me off, placing a finger softly against my lips. I barely breathed as he looked at me, then let out a deep breath as he removed the finger and used it to take a lock of my hair and tuck it behind my ear.
    “It’s not even an option for you. We’ll set up a bed for you in the corner. I’m not letting you go back there. You deserve better, Kristen.” He smiled at those last words, looking down at me affectionately. I wiped my cheek to rid of the last tears and attempted a smile.
    “Thanks, Kurt. I really appreciate it.”