Pretty Birdie

Chapter 36 - Empty

The next morning I wake up feeling like shit. I feel so groggy and my eyes are still puffy from crying myself to sleep last night. I look over to the clock on the bedside table to see its only 7:30 in the morning.

'Aahhh' I moan to myself, before grabbing a pillow and pulling it over my face.

Can I stay here forever? In bed? Never seeing anyone ever again?

Then my stomach growls  and I decide I should probably get up and go get some food. I shuffle down the hall, down the stairs and into the kitchen, before opening the fridge to nothing.

Why did I even think there would be anything in there?

'I need to go shopping' I tell myself.

And maybe then I can just get back into bed and binge myself to death on junk food?

I make my way back up to the bedroom and grab my bag that I didn't bother to unpack yesterday. I pull all my clothes out looking for a pair of jogging bottoms and a hoody to cover myself with for my trip out.

Once I'm dressed I sling my hair up in a messy bun and splash some water over my face, not bothering to do my make up. Who was I trying to impress? After getting a pair of blue converse on I walk to the front door before realising the shops are too far away for me to walk. When we used to come here when I was a kid my dad would drive us to the shops and back. The roads are too dangerous for me to walk. How am I going to live without food? I turn my back to the door and lean on it lifting my head above me until it rests on the door. I let out a large breath and then bring my head down glancing over the pictures that plaster the wall, going up the stairs. I look over all the happy memories we used to have down here as a family and then I spot one of us on a bike ride we used to do along the coast line every time we came here. That's it. There are bikes in the shed, out back.

I make may way through the overgrown weeds and bushes to the back of the garden where the shed is. I open the door with a key I found indoors and peek inside, scanning the small box room for the bikes. I spot them hidden under a tarp, which I pull back revealing 3 bikes. My bike is a bit to small for me now, I'm not a kid anymore, so I look to my parents bikes. As I pull my mums bike out I notice a flat tire, so that ones out. As I get to my dads bike at the bottom I let out a smile. It's not perfect, there is a bit of rust, but the tires are still inflated and its ridable, so I pull it out of the shed and wheel it along side me, making my way to the road out the front of the cottage.

I ride the bike, feeling the wind in my hair as I zip along the road towards the small little village that I passed on my way here. I pull up and dismount, leaving my bike leaning against the wall, not bothering to chain it up, and head towards the large doors of the convenience store. As I walk in I'm greeted by the shop keeper behind the till who does a double take as I walk in. I brush it off and pick up a basket. I begin to browse the shelves for anything I might fancy over the next week or so. while I grab a packet of biscuits off the shelf my eye catches someone looking over the shelf at me and immediately look away as I make eye contact. Weird.....

As I walk into the next isle I see a couple of older ladies talking in hushed tones. They look up at me and stop talking as I walk down the isle towards them. They scurry off before I reach them, leaving me in the isle alone as I carry on looking for food, picking up a packet of flamin' hot Cheetos.

As I get near the back of the store my eyes are drawn to a wall of newspapers. I feel as if someone has punched me in the stomach as look up at all the front covers with an image of my face plastered over them.

'What the hell' I say as I walk towards them, drawn like a magnet.

I run my hand over a row of newspapers with my image on them, feeling sick to my stomach.

I turn with a tear in my eye and march to the counter, placing my basket on the counter and pulling my hood above my head.

The cashier runs my items through the till and I practically throw my money at him as I grab the bag and run for the door. I wrap the bag over the handlebars and ride my bike as hard as I can back to the cottage and away from this place.

I zip my bike along the road with the countryside a blur in my vision as I try to fight against the tears threatening to run down my face. Then one escapes, leaving a cool trail of moisture. I pull my hand free from the handle bar and use the back of it the wipe my face clear. As I approach the cottage I hop the curb on my bike and dismount it, dragging it behind me into the front garden. As I make my way into the cottage I run upstairs with the carrier bag in my hand and dive into the sheets of the bed and let the emotions take over my body as I shake and shutter into the bed, wailing into the pillow. Where ever I go this just seems to follow me. Will I ever be free?