Ritual [H.S]

4.

Trigger Warning
This chapter contains heavy talk of use of drink and drugs, a child addicted to drugs, talk of rape/vomit and discussion of child abandoment.

Please read at your own risk. Take care. 💜

"I remember it now, it takes me back to when it all first started...
but I've only got myself to blame for it, and I accept it now.
It's time to let it go, go out and start again...
but it's not that easy."

30th August 2021

Present Day

Bad memories and feelings were always contained in the deepest, darkest parts of your mind that are never to be revisited again, but if you are anything like me, you would know that the minute your brain jolts wake and you open your eyes to yet another morning, then those bad memories and feelings never truly go away. 

No matter how hard you tried. 

The environment was obnoxiously loud outside, with the never ending noise of chirpy birds, car doors banging and people heading off to work with their ice cold water bottles, lunch bags that had been frozen (in an attempt to keep their meals cold because of the sweltering heat) and children who were already playing in their gardens. 

It was fucking 07.46am for Christ's sake. 

I groaned, shuffling my head deeper into my pillow, my hands curled around the corners as I tried to zone myself out from the noise that was hellbent on keeping me awake.

For a split second, I wondered what the hell I had done to deserve such treatment- I mean it was a Monday morning and life didn't stop because I felt like it owed me a favour; however, there was no school for another week yet.

So why was everyone so bloody determined to keep me awake?

And why the fuck Shana was making such a racket in the kitchen?

Along with the chirpy fucking birds, car doors and people who were insistent on being loud at this ungodly hour?!

Our little flat that we shared together wasn't exactly huge, so even at the slightest noise or inconvenience, you could hear anything and everything- but it was home.

It was small, but convenient, comfy and our little safe haven... and it was in that moment, that I suddenly remembered why Shana was making such a racket.

"I can do it auntie Shana!"

Every year, for the last four years of my life I was served buttery toast with the sweetest cup of tea in my favourite mug, complete with a single red rose in a glass vase- a ritual, for the birthday girl it seemed.