Behind the Fake Smile *completed*

Behind the Fake Smile Cp27

My stomach began to ache from lying flat on the floor for too long. I was under my bed and I've been there for about two hours now. I just wanted to go somewhere where no one would find me. I know that under the bed isn't an ideal hiding place but I didn't know where else to go since I knew they would check the tree house first and I also had the risk of Michael running into which would end up in me telling him lies or giving him half truths.

The only thing I enjoyed from lying under the bed with dust and dead bugs was that from staying in one position for such a long time led to pins and needles in my arms, hands, legs and feet. I enjoyed the sensation. It was like you were numb... but at the same time you weren't. It was how I was feeling lately- even when I didn't have pins and needles.

Glinting ominously in the dark was a large, sharp knife that I had retrieved from the kitchen when I had heard a strange noise. Adjacent to it was a relatively large spider lying on its back with a few tiny drops of dried, black blood staining the grey carpet.

At the time, I didn't feel any remorse of stabbing the dead spider. I didn't feel the need to respect the corpse. I didn't kill it so why would I need to feel sad? However, now I feel terrible that in that sadistic moment I had; I stabbed a dead spider. Who does that? I'm such a sick person. Mind and bodily.

At the time I assured myself that stabbing the spider didn't mean anything- just a way to past time rather than staring at the skirting board of mine and Lizzie's bedroom. Now... I realise that the only reason I did it was that I liked to inflict pain on something else even though they couldn't feel it. The fact that someone else, that wasn't me, felt pain then it made me feel satisfied.

I sighed quietly and closed my eyes. Everything was just so wrong. I had to be dreaming. I had to be. Everything has gone upside down. Surely I'm dreaming, really I'm fast asleep in bed having a nightmare... a never ending nightmare. I tried to convince myself that, that it was the truth but I knew it was a lie. I was living a reality; just not the reality I wanted.

We went through a month and a half of tests followed by the agonising waiting period which was then followed by more tests. In the end, I did more tests than I could count ranging from blood samples to all sorts of different scans such as: a CT scan and the ultrasound, there were others that I can't remember.

After all that.

After all the hoping.

After everything.

It was all in vain.

I remember walking in Doctor James' small, impeccable office holding both my parents hands like I was eight years old again. We each sat in one of the three chairs, dad on the left of me and mum on the right. Seperating the Doctor and us was a dark chesnut desk with only two pieces of papers and a pencil, all of which were at perfect right angles to one another.

We were still holding hands praying to God that everything was going to be fine. But even before we sat down I knew that something was wrong. Doctor James was usually unaccompanied when he saw us but now, standing next to him was a small, plump woman with ginger hair and plump cheeks that would normally be extremely rosy. She seemed like the sort of person who would go to the ends of the earth for you even if she met you only briefly. 

If the situation hadn't been so serious then I would have been jumping for joy because of the uncanny resemblance of the nurse, who was wearing a blue dress with white trousers, and Mrs Weasley from Harry Potter.

In addition, the air was thick and heavy as if we interrupted the two in the middle of a deep and meaningful conversation. I looked at Doctor James for reassurance, his blue eyes that were usually sparkling was now dull and slightly hidden by his black hair. I kept my gaze on him determined for him to look up at me.