terrible things - ashton irwin

three

The song for chapter three is Invisible by 5 seconds of summer thought it was suitable because she's leaving

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It was 4:30am when I woke up and pulled my backpack out from under the bed. I'd spent the last few nights obsessively packing and unpacking and replacing it, making sure I had exactly what I needed and no more: a couple of changes of clothes, Dr Trainor's Castile soap (good for "Shave-Shampoo-Massage-Dental-Soap-Bath," says the label), and a Swiss Army knife that i swiped from my dad's desk drawer. A camera. And, of course, my journal, which I carry everywhere.

Oh, and more than fifteen hundred dollars in cash, because I'd been the neighbourhood's best babysitter for going on five years how, and I charged accordingly.

Maybe there was a part of me that always knew I was going to split. I mean, why didn't I blow my money on an iPad and a Vera Wang prom dress, like all the other girls in my year? I'd had that map of the US on my wall for ages, and I'd stare at it and wonder what Colorado or Utah or Michigan or Tennessee is like.

I can't believe it took me as long as it did to get up and then to leave. After all, I'd watched my dad do it. Six months after my little brother, James, died dad wiped her red-rimmed eyes and took off. Went back to England were he'd grown up, and as far as I know, never looked back.

Maybe the compulsion to run away is genetic. Dad did it to escape his grief. My mum escapes with alcohol. Now I was doing it..... And it felt strangely right. At long last I could finally forgive Dad for splitting.

My mum was always on the ugly living room couch. It used to have pretty pink flowers on it, but now they look sort of brownish orange, like even the fabric could die of neglect in our apartment.

I walked right by and slipped out the front door.

Out in the hallway, though, I paused. I thought about her waking up and shuffling into the kitchen to make coffee. She'd see how clean I'd left it, and she'd be really grateful, and maybe she'd decide to come home from work early and actually cook us a family dinner. And then she'd wait for me at the table, the way I'd waited so many nights for him, until the food got cold.
Eventually, it would dawn on him: I was gone. A dull ache spread in my chest. I turned and went back inside.

Mum was on her back, her mouth slightly open as she breathed, her shoes still on. I put out a hand and touched her lightly on the shoulder.

She's wasn't a horrible mother, after all. She paid the rent and grocery bill, even if it was me who usually did the shopping. When we talked, which wasn't often, she asked me about school and friends. I always said everything was great, because I loved her enough to lie. She was doing the best she could, even if the beauty wasn't very good.

I'd write about eight hundred drafts of a good-bye note.

The Pleading One: Please try to understand, Mum, this is just something I have to do.

The Flattering One: It's your love and concern for me, Mum, that give me the strength to make this journey.

The Literary One: As the great Irish playwright George Bernard Shaw wrote, "Life isn't about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself." And I want to go and create myself, Mum.

The Pissy One: Don't worry about me I'm good at taking care of my self. After all, I've been doing since Dad left.

In the end, though, none of them seamed right, and I'd thrown them all away.

I'd bent down closer. I could smell wine and Lavender perfume. Her favourite.

"Oh, Mummy," I whispered.

Maybe there was a tiny part of me that hoped she'd wake up and stop me. A small, weak part that just wanted to be a little girl again, with a family that wasn't sick and broken. But that sure wasn't going to happen, was it.

So I leaned in and kissed my mother on the forehead. And then I left her for real.

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word count - 752

Agh so many feels! I liked this chapter even though not much going on more of a filler chapter really hope you enjoyed none the less!

Charlotte xxx