They shower me with expensive gifts, hoping to buy my love.
Diamonds at the age 13.
A car at the age of 15. Forgetting that the legal age for driving is still a couple years away.
"We love you so much," they would shout, bags in hand as the door shuts behind them. "Be back before you know it!"
Please don't go.
Is what I want to say, but a smile forms on my lips as I wave them goodbye, hugging myself tight as the silence of the mansion becomes my sole companion once again.
At the age of sixteen they buy me an apartment.
On the coast, views of the ocean take my breath away. They look at me with expecting gazes, waiting for the words 'thank you, I love it, I love you' to come pouring from my lips. But as I take in the view, in the perfect finishings and stainless appliances all I see- feel- are hands pushing against me, pushing me out of their lives, their home and into a new one.
"I love it."
I hate it.
When I feel most alone I lean on Moxie, taking me into her home when my parents disappear she becomes my family. Her home is warm and friendly, unlike my own (huge and dark).
In a matter of years she becomes my housemate, sharing the home my parents believed would truly buy my love. I hoped that one day they would realise that the only thing they needed to do was be around me, hug me and connect with me.
For the time being Moxie was the constant reminder that I deserved to be loved.