Since it's only two o'clock, and my parents won't be home for at least another four hours, I'd better find something to do. I was supposed to stay at school till two, but since I left early with Harry, I'm left with even more extra time than usual.

I should probably call and apologize to Ms. More for leaving without notice. I get up from my bed, heading over to the pile of clothes where my phone lies, and pick the device up. I go straight to my contacts and search for Ms. More. Most of my friends think it's a bit weird I have her number, but when she asked me to help over the summer before school ended I couldn't tell her I didn't want her having my number.

I'm tempted just to send her a quick text telling her I'm sorry, but then I remember she's old, so I'm pretty sure texting is not something she does. I hit 'call', waiting for her to pick up. After three rings she answers. "Hi, Ms. More, it's Chloe," I speak through the phone.

"Chloe, yes. Can I help you?" she says, rather rushed, yet still sweetly even though she is far from 'sweet'.

"I just wanted to apologize for leaving early." I don't feel terrible or anything about it, but I was raised better and feel obligated to at least apologize.

"Ah, yes, I noticed you seemed to run off in a hurry, but you're not in trouble for it. You are volunteering, so technically I cannot keep you there," she tells me.

"Will you be coming tomorrow?" she asks.

"Yes, I will be, and I should be staying the whole time." I don't plan on having lunch with Harry again or anything like that, so from what I know I should be.

"Good, good. Well, I must go, goodbye Chloe."

I push 'end' and lay back on my bed. I still have over three hours before my parents will be home. I look around my room, it's a mess, a total wreck. It's a good thing my parents barely come into my room, I know my mother enough to know if she saw the mess she would probably faint or kill over one.

I get up, deciding I might as well wash some clothes. I grab a handful, stuffing them into the basket and dragging the heavy garments down the stairs. My mother always gets onto me for dragging things like the garbage bags, she says it'll make a hole in the laundry basket, but I've been doing this for years and I've yet to create a hole by dragging an oversized load.

After sorting the clothes, I throw them in the washer and head to the kitchen, telling myself that's enough cleaning for one day. I grab a water and head for the living room, turning on Netflix.

I scroll through different TV shows and movies, debating on which one I want to watch first, I plan to watch many. After minutes of procrastinating between Happy Gilmore or watching another episode of Last Man Standing, I decide on the first. Both are my favourite. (Yes, Last Man Standing is my favourite TV show, not Pretty Little Liars.)

A blanket wrapped tightly around me, I am ready to watch three hours of this, but just as I start to enjoy myself, a haunting thought creeps its way into my already crazy mind. Blair. Me and Blair watched this show religiously, on a weekly basic, and I miss her.

We used to have so much fun hanging out, she was my only true friend, the only person in this world I could say I would honestly take a bullet for. She was like an older sister, but better. She understood me in ways my mother couldn't; she gave great advice, whether it was about boys or the girl at our school.

Sometimes I wonder if it was my fault. I feel like I should have done more. I was the first to notice her depression, she became quieter; barely wanted to go out; and started talking about death. She wished she knew 100% where she was going, what the afterlife had in store. I didn't know the answers, I simply said "read the bible". That's what most people do when their wondering things like that, right?

My mother goes to church on a weekly basic, but I only attend the fancy building filled with judgmental gay rights-hating, baby Jesus-loving place about six times a year. Normally I just sit in the balcony, telling my mother I'm sitting with friends. Actually, I'm sitting up there with the other twenty people dying for the preacher to say the last prayer so we can all stuff our faces with restaurant-prepared food.

A tear slides down my cheek as the thought of my friend's suicide. It could have been prevented, but sadly it wasn't. She was gone. I would never see her again.

I curl in a ball as the tears pour, raising the volume, drowning out the sound of my sobs as I cry myself to sleep.

* * *

"Chloe, dinner is ready," I hear a voice call. I roll over on my side, which is a very bad idea as I land hard on the wooden floor, a bang sounding throughout the house from my failed attempt of trying to get comfortable. "Chloe! Be quiet, I have a headache," my mother snaps from above me.

I untangle myself, groaning at the sound of my mother's annoying voice. She always has a headache, that's literally her excuse for everything. After succeeding to escape the blankets, I am up and on my feet.

I head over to the kitchen, groaning at the sight it front of me: fast food again. Taco Bell is scattered on the kitchen counter. My father sits at the dining room table, with papers littering the surface as he jots down who-knows-what.

"Your food is on the counter, I'm heading to bed," my mother informs me, giving me a weak side-hug, then walking towards the staircase. I listen to the sound of her heels clanking against the floor, then I look at the clock above the stove.

It's only six thirty. I'm used to my mother heading to bed so early, she does paper work like my father, then reads a bit after taking her shower.

I head towards the counter, grabbing the bag and sitting it at the table with my father. I start to move a few of his paper to sit my food down, but his deep voice interrupts me.

"Chloe, could you eat somewhere else? These papers are very important, I can't afford you getting food all over them," he speaks, clearly annoyed at my existence.

I mutter a quiet "I love you, too", then walk off.

"Chloe, don't be like that!" he yells after me. I just ignore him and continue walking up the stairs. My parents don't have time for me, plain and simple. It usually doesn't bother me because I like being alone, but it does at times like these, when I just want a few normal minutes with my family.

I just can't seem to get it, they always have better things to do. Yes, I know they have work, and that's very important, but so is their daughter. All I ask for is just a few minutes, but it's clear a few minutes of 'family time' is asking too much.

After slamming my door dramatically, (mature much? Not in the slightest) I head over to my bed, laying my food on the night stand. I curse to myself, realizing I left my drink down stairs. I get up, reminding myself of my all-so-dramatic exit, it will come back to haunt me.

I jog down the steps, hoping to get in and out of the kitchen without a word from my father. But, with my luck, that's the opposite of what will happen. I start to grab my drink from the counter, when I feel a pair of eyes burning a hole through my back.

"Chloe, I'm sorry," my father's voice admits. I'm pleasantly surprised, neither of my parents ever apologize, maybe he's changed? "-but you know how important my work is." And I'm wrong again!

"It's fine." I fake a smile, after turning around to face him, holding back the anger I feel against him. He just can't leave his work out of this, can he? "I'm going to bed," I say, starting to walk off. I'm done talking with him.

"Chloe, wait" I stop. Is he going to apologize? Doubtful, but I can still hope. "I'm leaving tomorrow for a business trip, and won't be back till Saturday night." Of course it's about his work, why would I have ever thought differently?

"Okay," I simply say.

"Have a good school week," he calls out. Is he really that oblivious to my life?

"Dad... it's summer," I say, even more disappointed in him.

"Oh. Well, have a good... uh-" he fumbles with his words. "I have work to do." I head up to my room, not an ounce of disappointment left in me to feel towards him. I can't wait to move out and get on with my life, so I can avoid these awkward conversations.

EDITOR: @directioneremo

I promise Harry will be in the next chapter! This was just a little peak inside Chloe's life and how her relationship is with her parents so hang on it will be getting more interesting!

Please VOTE and COMMENT and tell others to read this story please!

I love you babes :P