Dreamers

Chapter Three

The shock hit me over the next few days. Every thing felt so weird. They left me alone all night, telling me some one from social services would be at my house my morning to take me to a home. I didn't want to go to a home. I had one already.

Guilt built inside me. I couldn't help but think about the boy from the other night. He seemed to be inside my mind at all times. Like a ghost haunting me, but in a good way.

I decided I would go to the home. Mum and Dad would have wanted me to do that. The more I thought about the boy, the more guilty I felt. My parents had just died and all I could think about was a stupid crush I had literally just met thirteen hours ago!

I started shoving random items into my bag. Some jeans and t-shirts, jumpers, skirts, blouses, my purse with my wages in, a gift card for Costa, sneakers, slippers, toothpaste and the list just went on.

I was told I wasn't allowed to bring all of my belongings by one of the police officers. They told me that I was strictly limited to twenty items of essential clothing, five toiletry items (including my toothbrush and paste) and ten sentimental items. Apparently the rest of my stuff was to be left behind and sold. Then that money would go towards the rest of my upbringing.

Once or twice I considered running away. Maybe I'd meet the boy again. Maybe we'd run away together. A whole romantic epic adventure, but then I was dragged back to reality. That boy had left, my parents had died, and I was being dragged out of my house for a care home in the morning.

I sighed, making my way to my parents room and rattling around the contents of their closets, wardrobes, dressers and bed side tables. I couldn't leave any thing, worth something, behind. I would be able to come back for anything after all.

I scrambled around inside my dad's old trunk which he used for the rare traveling holidays he went on. It as ironic how much of a traveller everyone thought my dad was, when the real reality was that he had hardly ever left the house.

Another sigh was added to my long list of misery as I realised there was nothing. My parents weren't rich. There was no hidden treasure beneath any loose floor board. There wasn't even more than a fiver to be found.

My parents had had their last night of living, and they hadn't even spent it with me. I half closed the door when my eye caught  a large book squirreled beneath a pile of my dad's polo shirts. Opening it up I realised it was the long lost book of memories which my whole family had apparently kept for decades.

I glanced through a few pages, catching sights of happy family photos, Polaroid pictures, birthday cards, letters, stamps and a few pressed leaves and flowers. It was like stepping into a family fairy tale...apart from the fact this one had an unhappy ending for once.

Red lights came through the windows in beams. It was morning. Time to say goodbye one last time.