Girl in a Hoodie: Where the Future Lies

Chapter 62

TW: Includes fairly detailed descriptions of self-harm.

Riley's POV:

I use my hand to wipe my eyes as I stood with my back against the door of mine and James's bedroom before I sniff a little and manage to pull myself together. 

The bed still hadn't been made, so I walk over and fix the mattress neatly around the edges of the bed before I sit down and throw my phone down next to me. I know I had told James and Dad that I was going to call Alice, but as I pulled my phone out and contemplated things, I decide not to and come up with another idea.

I open up my laptop and open a new tab, coming off the one on my blog after seeing that I now had 96 likes on my recent post. On the search engine, I type in 'Laura Elizabeth Raymond' for it to come up with an Instagram page, a Facebook page and a Twitter. But when I click on the Instagram one, it ends up showing me pictures of some random teenage girl, so I come off of it after scrolling through a few photos, and instead type in 'Laura Elizabeth Marin', my mother's maiden name. Another Facebook page comes up, and I click on it, but once I do, it comes up with no profile picture and no content at all.

I sigh to myself but remain determined and so search up 'Alice Marin'. But then too many Alice's of the same name come up and so, not being bothered to scroll through all of them, I end up typing in Em's Instagram before clicking on one of them and I scroll through all the photos of her, including some with Hunter in it, but then stop at one which had Alice and Marcus in it. Then I click on Alice's tag, noting the user down mentally, before clicking on it.

There were a few photos of her and Marcus together, then a couple from March that James and I were a part of. I scroll past those ones as I come across a photo of a lady with brown hair. I'd never seen a picture of her before but it was bordered by the outline of a black heart. The caption read 'R.I.P. baby sis. You will forever be remembered.❤' . 

I hold back my thoughts, stopping them from getting jumbled up in my mind and then I click on the comment section to find several comments, most of which mentioned the name 'Laura'. So then I bite the inside of my cheek and click on the person in the picture's tag to find that her account had been deactivated.

"She...died...?" I ask myself quietly. I put my hand over my mouth as I allow tears to fall down my face. There's no way she died. How? When? Was she murdered? Why did no one ever tell me? 

I look at the date the image was posted to see it said 21/03/20, which must mean it was the date she died. I clicked more on where the description was at the bottom of the screen to see it said the words 'Ten years on and you are still loved just as much💫'. 

My mum died ten years ago and I never knew? She passed away when I was only eight years old. 

I look at the photo again. The only photo I'll ever be able to remember her by; an Instagram post. I never knew what my mother looked like until now. Her long, wavy, brown hair. Blue eyes. Zero flaws, wrinkles or pimples. She looked beautiful. But she's gone.

13+ from here

So I slam my laptop shut and then swallow before making my way into the en suite, closing the door behind me. I stand there as my lip quivers and all I want to do is cry. I feel like being sick, but I promised myself I wouldn't cry any longer. I promised myself that I'm better than that. I promised James I'd tell him everything and I promised him that I would never think of hurting myself again, like the regular times I used to when I was twelve. 

But I just can't seem to help it as I find one piece of broken glass on the bathroom tiles under the sink coming from where it had shattered a few weeks ago because of me and my stupid insecurities. I slowly approach the new mirror we had put in but kneel down to grab the glass. It was sharp at one end but blunt on the other, so then I look at myself and all I see is tears. All I see is a pathetic, deluded girl who knows nothing about anything. I'm nothing. I don't mean anything to anyone. No one trusts me or ever wants to tell me anything. So then I put my wrist out in front of me. 

I look at the scar that remained there from a couple of years ago. It was such a deep cut that I had to get stitches. It's still visible now. So I point the sharp bit of the glass in the direction of the cut and lightly allow it to touch my skin. I didn't think I'd ever get this low again, but here I am. I swallow greatly and allow the glass to graze my skin, but then just as it does, I hear James's voice.

"Ri? Are you in there?" 

But when I don't respond, he opens the bathroom door and I end up cutting myself so quickly that it hurts much more than I had expected it to because I wasn't prepared for it. I turn around hastily and find James standing there with Ellie in his arms but he seemed confused as if he didn't know what I had been doing. So once I drop the glass on the ground, he follows it to see what I had been holding but then also notices the blood on the sharp end of it. He looks at my wrist and shakes his head, sighing as he walks over to me and pulls me into his touch. 

"Why, baby?" he asks me. "I told you not to do this to yourself anymore." It only makes me cry harder as I look at our daughter whose head was right next to mine. If I can't even look after myself, how on earth am I supposed to look after my own daughter in the future?

"I'm sorry, James," I cry to him.

"There's no need to be sorry, but why did you do it?" he asks, still holding me close with his head resting on top of mine as I buried mine into his chest.

"I can't tell you," I whisper, my voice breaking. "It hurts too much." So then he kisses the top of my head once more and allows his lips to linger as he rubs my back up and down.

. . .

I sat down in the living room in front of James as he bandaged up my wrist, sitting opposite me. I sniffled multiple times, knowing this is the second time he's had to bandage up my scars these past few weeks. What's happening to me? 

Dad had taken Ellie out for a walk around the block so the two of them weren't home, it was just me and James. 

"Are you sure you'll be okay to go to school, today?" he asks me softly after tying the knot over the bandage. I nod.

"I should be," I respond quietly.

"Okay, but if you're not, just tell me and we can let your lecturers know beforehand," he says. He places one hand on my cheek and caresses it before leaning forward to kiss my forehead as I bow and look down, trying to not look at him. I didn't like being this way in front of him. I know it hurts him to see me like this, and it pains me to know that I'm the reason he's hurting. "What happened up there, Ri?" he asks me lightly. "Why did you choose to start this again?"

"I don't know," I murmur, my voice quiet and muffled like a little child. He tilts his head to the side, still caressing my cheek with his wedding ring pressed against my skin.

"You don't know?" he repeats. I shrug.

"I do know but..."

"You can tell me, Riles. I want to help you," he says.

"Sometimes it's better if I get no help at all," I tell him before standing up, causing him to detach his touch from mine as I pull the blankets over me and switch the tele on. "I just don't feel well at the moment. I'll talk to you about everything later," I tell him.

"Okay," he agrees and then reaches down to kiss me once more before sitting down by my side and allows me to cuddle him.