Trapped Case
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“You do not understand me at all!”
I screamed at my father, ran upstairs, finding a peaceful haven in my own room and slammed the door.
My father, as usual, was speechless.
It was typical of me to make a dramatic exit after any argument with my father. Usually, he would stand still for a moment, then get up to my room and apologise. Anything I wanted; be it pocket money, new shoes or anything in the world, would be given to me. Mission accomplished.
But magic did not occur this time.
As I eavesdropped through the thick layer of the wall, my father was dragging his feet to the front gate. The gate cracked open. The car engine roared. And he drove away.
“Why was he so annoying?” I wondered as I reached out for the door lock. All I wanted was a new dress for my junior prom.
Gripping the handle, I jerked it down, and pulled.
But the stupid door refused to open.
I pulled it again, using all the energy I had, and yet the door stubbornly stayed still.
With an immense effort of will, I tried one more time. I kicked it. I banged at it. I jerked it, but in vain. All my effort trying to free myself proved futile.
Great. I was trapped!
Trapping myself just because I had a habit of slamming it sounded like the most ridiculous thing in the world. There, I found myself sitting on the floor panting for breath, my hands red after banging at the door. Anger simmered within me. It was my fathers entire fault. He should have fixed the door ages ago after realising how hard it was to open it. With mom away, he was supposed to take care of me; he was supposed to understand my feelings and cater to my needs. Sadly, he could not, after all.
I stood up, my feet finding their way to my wardrobe. Ever since I moved to this new school I had felt intimidated by my schoolmates, who looked totally like those Runway models with trendy clothes and cool accessories. I could just close my eyes and the prospect of me looking like a fool in front of them in the prom would come and haunt me. How could my father now understand such a simple thing like that?
I felt so desperate.
The only acceptable outfit I had was a knee-length black-and-white dress with fanciful butterflies and laces at the end of it. When I first saw it in stores last year, immediately I fell in love with it, and had my father buy it at once, without even looking at the price tag. It was beautiful.
And the only time I wore it was the final year party.
I tried it on. It still fitted me well. It took me quite a while to dig for