Chiara Daveys is loving a good life in England - if you ignore her constant struggle with food, lack of a guardian and how she's constantly working to pay the bills.
At 17 years old, she's been unaware of her 6 brothers who have spent the 14 years o...
(AN- ✋IMPORTANT PLEASE REPLY I beg people comment on this note. I need to know what companies we're boycotting? I'm already aware of Starbucks and McDonald's but I need to know of others so that they're not included In the story. Also, I'm fairly certain Coke is another one? I can't remember if they support Israel or not, or if it's Pepsi that doesn't. Whichever one it is, I'll only use the other Also, there will be a Muslim character in this story (meant to reflect me and my Muslim friend) so if there's any part of Islam you want included or not included? And please let me know if it's offensive or not. I want this book to be a safe space for everyone. Thankyouhotties🐥x)
(Again, song has no real relevance to the chapter, but I was listening to it whilst writing this and I can say that it did influence a certain part of the chapter and I started crying 😭 and then quickly when to go check my Flo app)
DOUBLE UPDATE SO READ 14 TOO
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I've procrastinated enough, and now I really need to do this.
I need to pack away everything I want from this house.
The day we're leaving is creeping closer and I'll be in America in less than two days' time.
Which is actually crazy to me.
I've placed all my glossy printed photos into an envelope and am going to head to Boots to get more printed to put up in my new room.
My vinyls have been put together and protected in the sheets of bubble wrapping that Noah didn't get to pop.
My clothes are all folded and put into my suitcase, excluding a few outfits that I'll wear before we leave.
Old school books which I'm not sure why I still had in my room gave been chucked away.
Putting everything from the room I've grown up in into boxes was a weird experience. And I didn't enjoy it at all.
A knock on my door interrupts the silence I have, once again, surrounded myself in as I sat on the floor in front of my open suitcase.
I look up as Giovanni pokes his head through the open door.
"Is there anything from the other rooms you'd like to be packed away?" He asks.
Mum'sroom.
I nod and get up from my seat on the floor, leading him into our mother's room, which I refused to go into after she died.
I don't want him to think I'm afraid of a simple room. So, without a second of hesitation, I push the handle down and open the door.
"This was her room, right?" He says, after looking around for a moment.
Her.
"Yeah, it was," I decide to overlook his way of referring to our mother.
To me, it's almost like he's dehumanising her. And I do understand that I've grown up with my mother and he hasn't seen her for the past fourteen years of his life but she was a person. And she was our mum.
