Here I am playing the packing game, once again. Jeans? Check. Dresses? Check. Underwear? Check. I've gone through the routine so much Ive memorised where I put everything in the suitcase. the suitcase used when I moved here, Birmingham. the suitcase I used when I packed up and held the cold hands of the social workers hand. the suitcase used to carry all my tears and sorrow.
We're off to London this time, again.
However it will hopefully be permanent. It'll help over come the problems the said, to get over what happened and remember their child hood. "Come on down Gemma", my uncle shouts impatiently, "I and Jake have been waiting." I hear my little brother giggle while my uncle cracks a joke about girls taking forever with makeup. Truth is I hardly touch make up, just the simple layer of foundation and mascara, just to cover up the little emptiness. The emptiness which haunted me everyday. the space which is all black. The smile I have to plaster on everyday. The pain I struggle with, but I have to cover it all up, for jake.
I jog down the stairs tugging on my suitcase to while the strap of my satchel is sitting on my shoulder. As I do so, I pray inside hoping for all the best, hoping for myself to move on, to see myself smile and mean it. for everything to go back to normal... But reality hits like a brick wall and I know nothing can go back to normal, even If I sold my heart and soul.
As I step outside the front door, my uncle starts to lock the door and bids goodbye to the landlord. As I wait for him, my little brother Jake runs to me and wraps his small arms my petite waist, I kneel down to kiss him however I can see the red in his eyes form crying, he's upset he doesn't want to move but I still give him a reassuring smile, telling him its okay, it's going to be fine, it's all for the best. However, I'm not sure about that myself.
