How I stole the bad boys heart...

29.

@WynterAsher I think it's an understandable occurance for teens to just mess stuff up.. Over and over again...

"Well I don't have a telephone myself... I'm just an old lady.. But here's a dollar.. Why don't you go to a telephone and call her.. Is she out of state?"

I burst into even more tears, my face literally vibrating... My lips quivering.. My hands shaking violently..

"My Mom's dead."

I scream punching my fists against the concrete floor and instantly burning my hand with the impact of the crash.

She bites her wrinkled pink lips and bends down to the ground which I feel a bit guilty at because she's probably going to kill her back by standing back up again.

"What about your father..." She says, slinking her arms around my shoulders.

"He's... He's dead too..."

"Oh sweetheart." She sympathises with me.

I rest my head on her skinny boney shoulders as she tries to calm me down by humming out a nursery rhyme tume. My mom used to do this with me before I went to bed.

"I miss her. I miss them..." I cry but she continues to sing to me.

"I need them here it's just so... So unfair."

"Sweetie... Why don't we pop round mine.. I literally live just here. I'll pop the kettle on and we can speak there." She says dragging herself off the floor.

I shouldn't be going to strangers houses... I learnt that in 2nd grade but.. This lady is nice. And I'm definitely not in a state to face my brother like this.

I follow her inside of her tiny little one storey house. The interior is all old-fashioned with wallpaper patterns of old flowers and flooring with the same carpeted pattern. She has old dusty antique vases in cabinets and funny smelling furniture. Everywhere smells of roses basically and there's a bowl of potpourri in every room. She makes me a cup of hot chocolate and one for herself with extra cream and marshmallows in mine.

"If you don't want to talk you don't need to... I like having the company so you can sit there and drink all you want.. It's lonely being old. My husband died a few years back.. My children and grandchildren have all grown up and are living there own lives.. It's hard. But I can't imagine what its like for you, sweetie."

I take a deep breath in.

"My dad... He was suffering.. For ages. Once my grandma and grandad died a week separate from each other he just went so sad and so depressed. He took a few months out of work and he was getting sadder and sadder everyday. Mom said he should go back to work..."

I breathe in deeper, allowing a stray year to roll down my cheek.

"It's not her fault. She loved my Dad. We were all so close.. Like one of those families on TV like on the vacation advertisments that pop up... We did everything together..."

I bite my lip, another tear rolling down.

"Daddy was a pilot. Mom worked abroad a lot... She was a translator.. She had a client in Paris that she needed to fly out to... on the same day that dad was flying to Paris, then from there, to Berlin."

More tears spill out of my eyes. My throat dries completely and it's hard for me to speak without my voice squeaking.

"He was having a particularly bad day... Everyone thought he was fine but Mom knew there was something wrong, they had a huge fight before boarding the plane..."

I sigh.

"He.. He.. He crashed the plane... Straight into the Atlantic Ocean... MY DAD! MY DAD... HE KILLED MY MOM AND THE 200 OTHER PASSENGERS."

I scream.

She stares at me blankly.

Silence.

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