Spray Paint Me Orange (Liam Payne Fanfic)

Funerals, Letters and Airplanes

" Even though we have always been on our own, I feel like we have always had each other and that was all that mattered to me. My mother was the kind of person who would rather jump off a 100-foot cliff into the unknown below her, than to have to sit and plan out her entire life right before her eyes.

"- I admired that about her. As a matter of fact, I admired everything about her. She was my inspiration and my idol, somebody that I could always put my trust into. It hurts me to say that she’s gone, but deep down inside she will always be apart of me. So, to end things to day, I love you mom, and thank you all for coming.”

That was my entire speech at my mothers’ funeral. Pathetic right? I wish I could’ve done something better than that but it just wasn’t in me. I was completely broken; I have no family, whatsoever in my life.

Still standing at the podium, I heard a few faint goodbyes, and take cares and I whispered a few thank yous and you toos but I was never really focusing in on any of it.

What am I going to do with my life? That’s the thought that kept ringing inside my head. I’ve always been with my mom; I guess you could consider us Gypsies, because we never stay within one place for an entire year.

I just graduated from high school, I have no money, and no clear thought process; what could go wrong?

As I think of all the sarcastic comments I could use to describe my life, I grab my keys from the chair beside me and quickly make it to my car alive, without any more sympathy from my fellow peers.

Once I ram my keys into the ignition, I shift my car into drive, and blare the music so the lyrics are the only thing that can pass through my mind.

You had me hooked again, from the minute you sat down;

The way you bite your lip, got my head spinnin’ round.

After a drink or two, I was putty in your hands.

I don’t think id have the strength to stand, oh, oh.

Trouble, troublemaker, yeah that’s your middle name.

I know you’re no good, but you’re stuck in my brain.

Why does it feel so good, but hurt so bad?

My mind keeps saying run as fast as you can.

I say I’m done, but then you pull me back.

I swear you’re giving me a heart attack.

TROUBLEMAKER!

With the end of the first chorus, I was finally pulling into my drive. I would usually say that its nice to be home, but today that phrase is completely irrelevant.

I wasn’t even halfway through the front door before tears began to spring from my eyes. I’m pretty good at holding my emotions in, in front of people, but when it’s just me, I can’t hold back.

I throw myself on the couch, landing roughly on my face, causing me to have that one sensation where your nose goes numb. After a few minutes of completely wasting my life, I hear a familiar ringtone with a small vibration coming from my back pocket.

Hesitantly, I reach back, figuring out which pocket it’s coming from, and pull it out. First things first, I have to check the caller ID. It might be one of my moms’ eccentric friends wanting to console me. Trust me, that’s the last thing I need right now.

Turns out, that I was right; Martha Briggs. She’s actually out next-door neighbor so if I don’t answer, she’ll probably come to the conclusion that my current method of coping with my grief and loss is not working.

I stare at the phone once more before finally coming to a decision; I answered the call.

“Hello Ms. Briggs,” I spoke softly.

“Oh! Gemma, I’m so glad you’re alive!”

“You saw me 20 minutes ago at my moms funeral.”

“I know, I know, I just- its just very hard to cope with loss.”

“I understand, but I assure you, that I am going to be just fine.”

“Oh good! Dear, if you ever need anything, please stop by.”

“Will do Ms. Briggs, have a nice day.”

“You too honey,” and with that I hung up. Was I to harsh? I don’t think so.

I plainly set my phone down, and out of the corner of my eye I saw a bottle of orange spray paint with a purple envelope attached to it. I got up and slowly made my way towards the kitchen counter, where the can was sitting.

In one swift movement, I picked up the envelope and it read, To My Loving Daughter, Gemma. I froze; if this was some kind of sick game, I didn’t like it. I looked all around me to make sure that nobody else were here or left any rebalance of being here. But I saw nothing.

I glanced back down at the envelope and decided that I better open it; so I did.

My dearest Gemma,

If you’re reading this, that means that my illness has taken over my body and I am now passed away. I am sorry for leaving you so early in your life, and I know you’re probably thinking about what you’re going to do.

You have no money to pay rent, because I have never made you get a job, and you have no other relatives that live near you. Notice how I said that live near you? Well, your father is still alive. At least as I’m writing this letter he is. He owns a hotel in Wolver Hampton, England and that is where I will be sending you.

Remember that bucket list we made last year? Well I want you to fulfill everything on that list, knowing that I will be right beside you the entire way.

I have already set up a savings account and there should be enough money on there to last you a lifetime. This envelope includes one passport and a plane ticket to London of the day of your choice. I do believe that your father has some things he would like to give you also.

You know I cant make the choice for you, to stay or to go, but just know that I will support you in whatever you plan on doing.

I hope you find yourself in all of this,

Your loving mother,

Jen

I lay the letter down flat, with my passport on top of it, trying to process what is now happening. I didn’t take me that long to come up with a decision, I ran up stairs to my room, packed my bags and started to the airport.

Wolver Hampton here I come. Mom, this is for you.