Classic Rock ✔️

0.7 | Sweet home alabama

The journey home was once of subdued words, long pauses and melodramatic thoughts. Exaggerations of the day, and how else Violet could have reacted, taunted her and while she used to prefer her own thoughts when around her mother, Violet nearly felt relieved when the woman finally spoke.

The hour mark, painfully, came and went. As an idea to pass the time, Violet tried to fall asleep but after no success the girl decided to focus her attention elsewhere: the scenery. To be honest, there was not much else she could do. No one spoke. No one moved to turn the radio on. It was practically silent. Her mother's mellow monologue had stopped. Meaning, the only hint of sound that broke the uncomfortable air was either the flick of an indicator or a small sigh for the traffic.

Another hour wandered by.

In a flash, the museum the group had visited previously that week darted by. Violet closed her eyes, leaning her head against the seat as some sort of way to find comfort. Seeing that building again was yet another reminder of the competition that would miss an entry. Her brain reflected on her memories, particularly of the bizarre "gang" who her brother owed money to. They would never get repaid. Who knows what they will do to Cole?  Violet did not have the compassion to care.

The third hour took its time to arrive, the only interesting subject being the amount of pollution pouring out of the car in front of them. Much the same, the fourth and fifth hour were mundane and predictable. Mother and daughter had spent so long in the car that it was beginning to grow dark, the grey sky slowly darkening until all Violet could see was a pitch black abyss.

When the end of the journey finally came, Violet wasn't sure that it arrived too slowly or all too soon. The darkness of the night had shadowed her house, giving it a look that didn't quite appeal to her. In a jolt, her mum stopped the car and smiled. She could now relax.

"It's nice to be back. You should go to bed; school tomorrow." Although said in a nice enough way, her words were more an instruction than a suggestion to her daughter. Without waiting for a reply, the woman unclipped her seat belt and walked into the house, Violet slowly following. She could not help but grow slightly nostalgic as she entered her home. It was almost as if Violet's days with her brother had not even happened. As if they didn't even matter.

The low grumble of her own stomach let a small laugh escape Violet's mouth. Patting her belly, she briskly walked over to the kitchen and her hands reached inside the fridge. She took a large swig of milk, the cool plastic container nearly slipping from her clammy hands, and her eyes lazily scanned around the room. Pausing, she noticed a scrunched-up note on the table, the house phone planted beside it. At first Violet stepped curiously forward, but once she saw that it was signed off with Cole's signature she decided against reading it. In one swift motion she finished the milk, heading straight out of the room and as far away from the note as she could.

Now inside her own room, Violet slipped out of her friend's clothes and into her own. Yet again, she couldn't help but feel in denial over what had happened. The girl frowned, looking down at the clothes that only reaffirmed Mia's bizarre taste in fashion. Best to say they never happened.

Ducking her legs under the duvet, Violet tried to get comfortable. She closed her eyes, turning her body to face the wall, and attempted to relax. She was glad that her back was both facing the window where she first spotted Cole those days ago and her phone, which lay on her desk.

Violet could only guess how many messages she had from them wanting to meet up again or needed something they most likely left behind on purpose. All of them used to make her feel wanted. Now, they were just a shameful annoyance that lingered in the back of her mind. For ages all Violet did was lay there, her body still but her mind a hive of activity. She knew she couldn't go to sleep but, for the time being, there didn't seem any better option than to at least try.