Angela

Angela- Chapter one

I just want the earth to swallow me up, my dad was too drunk to even wake up, let alone come here with me.  So I'm the only one here, the only one respectable enough to even bother.  I just want to cry but what is the point in crying tears -nobody will understand properly, the only one that'll even notice is the Vicar, but he'll be too busy droning on about how she isn't really dead, she still lives on in our hearts.  Yeah, and they call my mum crazy.  It's not true anyway, if mum was still alive he would just be like the rest, jeering at her.  I want to scream and wreck this dumb church, why can nobody nowadays just say what they mean?

  I'm too depressed, that's why, they just don't have the heart to.  The fireworks are banging inside my head, the colourful light flashing behind my eyes.  I want more than anything just to curl up into a ball and stay there, hands clamped firmly over my ears, until this service ends.  But even then the vicar would think I was mad just like my mum.  I try to shut away the fireworks, but the whistling flares in my ears, the firework rocketing around in my brain.  Oh mum, oh mum, I wish you were here...

I'm no longer even trying to look interested in this service anymore.  Ellen, my old social worker who also abandoned me long ago arranged these annual services so I could "feel" that somebody cared.  I could just stick a knife through her gut now, she wanted me to feel wanted.  Oh yeah and then she went and moved away to Australia, forgot about that bit.  Yes, Ellen, you definitely care don't you?  My thoughts vanish-  the fireworks are too loud to think through anymore.  Then for a few seconds every movement of the vicar, every breath of the wind is seemingly in slow motion.  Time has lapsed, here and now, and, while stuck in this slow warped world I fall down a dark black hole into oblivion.  Darkness, blackness engulfs me.  Then I'm really falling. 
Falling.
Falling.
Falling.