Chit and Jake

Jake

I woke with a fragmented memory of the past 24 hours. I remembered the walk home with Chit, how emotional it was, I remembered mum brightly welcoming us at the door, I remember offering for Chit to stay for dinner and I remembered him not staying. That was it though. I had less than an hour's worth of memories for an entire afternoon; just what had happened? I got out of bed in a confused haze, trying desperately to remember yesterday but coming up blank. I checked the time, oh, it was 10 am. Shit! It was 10am! Why didn't mum wake me up? Now I was going to be so late for school, well I already was. I threw on my uniform, flew down the stairs and riffled quickly through the fridge, looking for something I could eat on the go that was premade. I opened a green-lidded container and the familiar scent of Jaffa wafted towards my nose. Suddenly, everything came back to me; the flashback, the homework, the cookies, the curry and worst of all- the fight. I touched my left cheek gently and flinched, it was still very tender and it hurt to touch.
I walked to the back door and heard Mums raised voice so I stopped to listen.
"He's been crying, I can tell. He never cries. What have you done to him!? Tell me now! What in Angels name have you done to my son!" Mum screamed. The silence following her rage was crushing, like a predator carefully studying her prey. "Get out." Mum broke the fragile silence. "Get out! And stay away from my son!"She screamed primitively.
I saw Chit jump back into my line of vision, he gave mum one last pleading look before he turned to leave, muttering a simple, "yeah, I understand." Chit looked badly hurt as he left, leaving the front door to thud loudly.
A violent wave of rage rushed through me; I had steam coming out of my ears and flared nostrils as I stormed inside to face my mother. Nobody, absolutely nobody got away with hurting my best friend.
"What was that?"I yelled at her angrily, emphasising the "what".
"Oh, Jakey dear, Chit had to go home early. I'm sorry, he said there was something urgent he had to tend to." She smiled innocently, lying to me so easily and confidently that I almost believed it.
"Cut the crap you bitch. What. Was. That?" I demanded fiercely, emphasising the last sentence by saying each word slowly and viciously. 'Don't you ever talk to Chit that way again?"
"How dare you talk to your mother that way, you ungrateful twerp. Do you know how much I put up with for you, because of you? Your father hates you and left me because he couldn't stand to be around you. This is all your fault you worthless excuse for a son. The unhappiness I go through every day is entirely your fault. And that is how you repay me? By bringing a boyfriend home who is even worse than how you used to be? You were and always will be my biggest mistake; I wish I never gave birth to you." Slap. The sound echoed throughout the empty house as her open palm contacted with my face, there was no restraint of her strength at all. It hurt a lot and tears sprung to my eyes as I fell to the floor, despite how much that slap had hurt physically, it was a welcome distraction from the severe puncture she'd just given my heart. I stormed upstairs, without dinner since I had just lost my appetite, and rolled into bed. Tonight would be yet another night I silently cried myself to sleep.
I realised tears were leaking from my eyes and slipping down my face onto the lid of the Jaffa cookie container where they were collecting into a puddle so I wiped the lid with the corner of my shirt as I put it back into the fridge. I then trudged my way back upstairs and into the bathroom. I looked at myself in the mirror, and searched my eyes for any hints as to why I was such a screw up though the large light bluey-purplish bruise covering half of my face was quite distracting. I wouldn't be able to leave the house until it had healed enough to not be in a similar shape of a hand and for me to make a convincing harmless excuse with. I splashed water on my face to wash away the evidence that I'd been crying then returned to my room where I changed back into my pyjamas. I still wasn't hungry; the memory had left a bitter taste on my tongue and a distracting pain in my heart. I lay down on my bed and stared aimlessly at the ceiling. The last thing that I remember thinking was that this bruise would probably take at least a week to heal and then I wondered whether Chit would even want to talk to me when I went back.