The John Hughes Club

Chapter Thirty Five

The beautiful light is there, just like it has always been before.
As usual, I am drawn to its glowing beauty, I am moving towards it like I am floating. I don't see my feet, but they always take me towards the bright wonder of that light. As I'm being drawn towards it, closer and closer, I see my sister...I see Anais. No longer is the light pulling me; it's only her. She's just as she always is, her three year old self with dark curls and long lashes framing her almond-shaped brown eyes. And like all the other times, she's still wearing no clothes. Her tiny frame is still naked. Naked, with the light shining brightly behind her. In moments, I'm within touching distance of my little sister, who's smiling that sweet smile of hers. Then behind her, another figure approaches, approaching with a golden aura surrounding them. That figure is Chas. It's him, sombrely naked. He says nothing. He just stares back at me with eyes as bare as his sad self now appears. "You have to let us go, Mindy," Anais calmly tells me.

All the beauty of the light soon becomes ugly to me. The calm pulling, now feels like it's savagely ripping me apart. I've been here before, and I always start crying, but Chas is now here, so my cries are desperately different. "No, Anais! No, Chas! I can't do that! I can't let you go!"

Anais smiles again, serenely fixed upon me. "It's time. It's time to let us go."

She always says the same thing. Always smiles the same smile. However, Chas is now by her side. "No! I can't! I won't!" Like I always do, I sob. Sobbing to the point that I've dropped to my knees, because the angelic sight of my sister and Chas is more than I can take.

"It's time for us to go. Time for us to leave you." Her small hand doesn't reach for me like it usually does. Instead, she and Chas hold hands. As the tears are rolling down my cheeks, I'm a devastated heap on the ground. Desperately, I reach out to them, my fingertips shakily outstretched. The light becomes blindingly bright; too bright to see, too bright to know where they both are. Crying more and more, I'm trying to reach them, but the ethereal light is devouring us; devouring us whole.

"Anais! Chas!" My sobs are now screams, screams that are also being swallowed up by the light. "Anaaaaaaaaaais! Chaaaaaaaaaas!" This scream is the loudest, the most heartbroken of screams. The devastation of it, echoes all around me. As the echo fades, so too does the blinding light. Once my eyes are able to see, I'm struck with a newer sadness. My precious little sister has gone, and this time, she has taken Chas with her. She's gone, and so has he. One last whimper of desolation leaves my trembling lips. "Anais! Chas! Please don't leave me! Please come back!"

"Mindy! It's okay! It's just a bad dream!" Holding me, mum's rocking me in her arms.

As the nightmare releases me from its traumatic grip, I realise that being in my mum's hold feels just like waking up from one awful nightmare, to find myself in yet another. "I want dad! I want Chas! Leave me alone!" I yell at her, disoriented and devastated. "I want them! This is your fault! You've brought back my nightmares!" Crying, I'm still not fully awake, still groggy from my bad dream. The more mum tries to hold me, the more I push her away. As I do that, the horror of my dream comes at me with clarity, coming at me with my consciousness. "Please don't touch me. You're not helping," my voice now just an heartbroken hush. The yelling has stopped, but the pain is only getting started. For my nightmare and my reality seem to have blended as one. Mum is in a relationship with the father of the boy whom I absolutely adore. This new nightmare is no longer just for when I close my eyes to sleep, this new one has chained itself to my every waking moment. This is the dawning of a new misery. A misery that I just don't think I have the strength to fight against. The past six years of my life I have battled against the death of my sister, I just don't think I have it in me to now go into battle over my love for Chas. I'm all battled out. "I'd like you to go now." Cold-eyed, my request to my mum is harnessed to my obvious hurt.

Taking a deep swallow, mum isn't quite sure how to react to my wounding words. "Don't push me away, Mindy. We can talk through this."

Incapable of listening to her, and with the feeling of little hope on my horizon, I pull the duvet over my entire body. This is me shutting her out. Me blaming her. Me not wanting to say another word to her. For an awkward while, mum remains where she is. In her motherly heart, she knows that she is now breaking mine. I could tell by the look in her eyes last night, that she wasn't prepared to give up Rob Summers. This whole mess has now reached stalemate. A silent stand-off between mother and daughter. Eventually, mum stands. She doesn't move, she just stands. Keeping the duvet over me, I breathe slowly with frustration simmering inside of me. I just want her out of my room. I can't breathe with her in it. I can't think with her in it. As though she can hear my thoughts and feel the force of my frustration, mum leaves my room. I'm so hurt and confused, and she only makes those emotions harder to deal with. I know she wants to talk about what's going on, but I can't. I just can't. I feel sick. I have a headache. I need time to process all that's going on. I want my dad. I need Chas. With all that hurt, confusion and the wanting and needing of my dad and Chas, I fling the duvet from off my agitated body. Sitting up on the edge of my bed, I look to where my closed curtains are. Daylight is just creeping through the gaps of the lined cotton, reminding me that I'm on the cusp of a new day to face. With a sinking feeling in my stomach, I tremulously sigh. I'm not ready for a new day. I'm not ready to face anything. The only thing that makes any real sense to me, is to just get out of this room, get the hell out of this house. In a tired way, I get dressed in skinny jeans, an old t-shirt and a faded hoodie. I don't bother with my hair, I don't bother with any makeup, I'm too upset to care about any of that. Retrieving my Doc Martin's from my wardrobe, I quietly leave my bedroom with them being held between my fingers. Just as quietly, I creep down the stairs. From the kitchen, I unplug my phone and shove it into my back pocket. When I turn, my eyes wander to where my mum keeps a few bottles of her favourite alcohol—gin, vodka, wine and Prosecco—like my hand isn't my own, it grabs the vodka. Hiding it in the front of my hoodie, I hurriedly tip toe across the hallway with my boots, towards the front door. Carefully opening it and ever so carefully closing it, I then quickly put on my boots. I know running away is probably not the answer, but it's the only answer I currently have. I can't be here. I can't be near my mum. I need space. I need time. Which is why running away is all that my legs and my head want me to do. Into the dawn of a hideous new day, I start running. Confused and angry, I just keep on running. I'm not yet sure where I am running to, I just know that I have to keep on moving. For if I stop, I'll think...and right now, thinking hurts too much.