never let me go

forrest

he stood outside the door of his house, staring at the number that gleamed against the pale light on the porch. it said 9 if you were curious. 

his breath showed against the coloured glass of the door, and he swallowed hard before raising a hand to knock on the door. beside the door was a window, brightly opened with noise radiating from it. he heard a faint, manly laugh and felt immediately intimidated. 

but it was too late to turn back now. the door creaked open, and a flood of light illuminated his face as his mother appeared. the happiness vanished instantly, and her lips pressed tightly in a straight line as her eyes became cold and distant. 

"Forrest" she said in a bleak voice. he nodded, gripping the edges of his jumper. his mother stared at him, the lines of her forehead increasing as she frowned. the delicate spectacles perched up on the bridge of her nose were pushed up as she sighed warily. 

"so you decided to come" she whispered. Forrest nodded wordlessly. the wariness of his mother vanished, replaced by an angered and troubled look. he took a step back as she bit her lip, gripping the door knob so hard he could see splinters of wood fall to the ground. 

there was a heavy, troubled silence. it was broken when his father arrived at the scene, and wrinkled his nose in disgust at the sight of the son that was proved a failure to his succesful family. his parents stared at him with so much hate it made him jump, but Forrest bravely met their eye. 

"i just need to get my things and go" he said in a voice that he hoped was stable enough to cover his nerves. his mother looked disdainfully at him, and nodded in defeat as she took a step back to let him in. Forrest felt like a stranger amidst the grand settings of his old home, and he trudged up the stairs leaving a muddy trail on the velvet carpet due to his dirty converse. 

entering his room that was stripped bare except for the mahogany desk that had all his stuff inside, Forrest opened his large bag and stuffed his belongings inside. as he zipped up the bag, he paused for a second and looked around him. 

his room smelt like old, worn books. the shelf on the wall was empty, and he remembered the countless books he had lined across the shelf. a smile of nostalgia crept to his face, and Forrest swallowed hard. when there was a family gathering in the living room, Forrest was locked up in his bedroom reading and writing and dreaming. 

with one last heavy sigh, Forrest decided to escape from the window and run far, far away from the home that gave him troubled memories.