So Close

Chapter 24

Hey guys, I felt bad so I added some parts to this chapter, so it's got new bits. Weow. Byeeeeee xx

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"Bye Zayn." I said, closing the door behind his retreating figure.

I smiled and walked back to the setup I had constructed to take photographs. I brought in the camera and backdrops, my hands full. I was stumbling in, the tripod hitting the door as I dropped the white drop. Dad made his way over solemnly, taking the tripod and picking up what had fallen. I giggled about it but it faded when I saw the dark expression on my Dad's face.

"Dad?" I said, concerned as I dumped all the items currently in my hands on the table. I turned to him slowly, slightly cautious.

"Alice, I know that you have been under a lot of stress lately but I think that you need to know this, you are old enough." Dad said, taking deep breaths as he looked comfortingly at me. I had no idea where this was going; I was just completely perplexed as to what would cause this type of reaction in my dad. He has always been carefree and smiley to have a serious look, basically, its concerning.

"Alice, the man who was involved in your mother's car accident has passed away."

And just like that, a tidal wave of emotion that I couldn't comprehend crashed over every conscious thought I had, drowning out the voice of reason and the idea of feeling anything other than this weird swell of feeling.

The crashing of connections, the spray of the memories and the damn that I had been build building. It clambered on top of me, pressing from every angle until I could hear nothing but the deafening roar of my heart smashing, being pulverized in this blender of why I shouldn't have to feel.

I attempted to pick my way through it; being able to find some anger, sadness, relief but that was the tip of the iceberg. Going deeper, it gets so dark and mislead that I can't see anything further than those three emotions. I felt more, I felt full of everything but I couldn't feel what.

After, was it minutes or hours, one feeling soared over the other mess. The feeling of sure exhaustion. I had to stumble down to the couch and hold my head in my hands as if it would fall apart.

I heard my dad trying to comfort me, trying to get through this swirling orb of emotion that was surrounding me. I could feel the panic swelling and my breath coming out in short puffs, tears running down my cheeks.

I heard the door open, the hushed conversation and then the soft padding of feet. Someone was standing in front of me, not my dad, a woman but through my haze I couldn't tell who it was. A wretched gasp tore out of my throat and the woman pulled me into her arms, stroking my hair softly and murmuring.

The gasps flew from my mouth, clawing their way from my gut until I felt I would be sick.

Her voice was quiet yet it drowned out the screaming of my heart. Her hug was warm yet it cooled down the fire that was threatening to eat up every last thread of consciousness I had. Her actions were small yet they kept me connected to the world.

I don't know how long had passed since I was told the news, it could have been hours, minutes, seconds but it still made me so physically drained that I passed out on the couch.

** ** **

When you get a virus, your body repels it and fights to keep you healthy. Although you may have pretty vicious symptoms; it is a fact of life that your body wants you to stick around.

In a similar way; my body, my heart, were so torn apart by the revelation that my brain had a meltdown, it had to because, much like the symptoms; your body acts of its own accord. my body simply ran out of fuel after putting so much into those minutes of heartache that it has nothing else to do but recharge.

I am an anxious person; I have had a few panic attacks that usually end in commuting up my breakfast with fresh tears on my face and an uneven breath to still ratio.

Despite my experience; it had never reached that. That huge explosion of everything I was and am.

My mum will never be forgotten. Not by me at least.

But she shouldn't have ended how she did, it wasn't fair. She was amazing, perfect even, and she should have had a chance to spread that brilliance and love and cry and hurt but she can't.

She can't because a dickhead in a mini ramed her into a telegraph pole because he was too drunk to press on his brakes when my mother made a turn.

And now, she is gone and he is gone and its hard to comprehend that.

It hurts; my heart.

My eyes and head and stomach and throat too.

But the ache in my heart; the one that brings tears to my swollen eyes and a stinging to my hoarse throat makes me feel that I will never accept that she is gone.

How could this happen? He had another chance at the world, he had a chance to live his life, something that he robbed from my mother, yet he threw it away.

Anthony Flenning, aka the man who hit my Mother's car when intoxicated, aka the reason for the worst period of my life, had drunk himself to death.

I know this was crappy and short but I wrote it in about 15 minutes because I thought you guys deserved something. Also, check out my new story; Zoe Jackson's Five Ways To Make Him Stay. Thanks again guys and I hope you have been well.