Connor
I stared at the pristine white sheets of Edward's bed as if I was staring into the universe. As if the universe would suddenly give me answers on what had happened to Dad. On why he had suddenly packed up and left without warning anyone.
Why would he just put all my things in a neatly organized box just like a Time Capsule and leave it there for me? Dad never seemed to care when I gave him a small trophy I had won at school or even seemed to bother to listen to me when I told him I had won a baking competition in IGCSE.
He thought it was feminine and a rubbish waste of my time. Then why did he have the small certificate neatly framed and the trophy perfectly preserved? Why didn't he pick up my calls or answer my messages?
