work experience ~ s.w

fifteen

I shut the door behind the final guest as she strolls down the porch and to her car. I never thought that so many people could come together in a place so horrible, where pain has seeped into the walls and yet I'd feel so loved.

Zach and I decided to start a collection in memory of the father we once knew, the kind, warm hearted human being who'd do anything to protect his kids, the father we knew he would be deep down. We raised a little over $100 for a drug abuse charity that aims to help put people into rehabilitation centres when they can't afford it themselves. I know it's not much but like they say, every little counts.

I sit down on the couch my father once called home next to my brother. We stare at the blank space where a TV and a beautiful picture of our mother once stood. He rests his head on my shoulder as I rest a hand on his leg.

"It's just you and me now kiddo" I tell him although he's fully aware of that.

"This is for the better." He tells me. "We need to start over. We can't keep living in the shadow of our parents who are no longer here."

"When'd you get so wise huh?" I smirk, ruffling his hair in my hand before he swats me away, styling his hair back to how he likes it. "Am I doing the right thing? Leaving this place behind?"

"Yes Viola, you are. You're not only doing what's best for me but you're finally looking out for yourself." He smiles at me before looking around the completely empty house. We've already packed away what little possessions we have, ready to move out of this dump.

"Do you miss them?"

"I miss mom every single day. I miss dad too sometimes; not the father I knew but the one you've told me stories about. The father who used to carry you on his shoulders and kiss you better when you had a boo-boo."

"The kind of father you should have had. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you Zach."

"You did protect me Vi, I'm still here aren't I?" He smiles again. I've always thought that if mom were alive and Dad was a better role model then my life would have been perfect; it wouldn't because I wouldn't have Zach the way I have him now. I'd be out partying every night or locked away in my room with some boy or at the library studying for some test I'd probably fail anyway. I wouldn't be me. I wouldn't be the Viola that I know and love.

"Knock knock" I hear Sam's voice as the front door opens. "Your carriage awaits your majesty's" He laughs as Zach and I stand to greet him. Sam's letting us stay with him whilst the renovations are done and the house is sold. Sam and Zach start to pick up the three boxes we've packed and stand eagerly waiting for me.

"I'll catch you up" I promise them. I wait until they leave to go into my old bedroom. I soak up all the pain and misery I've endured in this room, all the bad times that have clouded the good times I once had. Mom and I used to paint every Sunday in here when I was really little; I wasn't much of a Picasso with my brown splodge sod finger painting but mom made some really beautiful works of art. It pains me to think that there's someone in the world who looks at that picture everyday and doesn't even realise how lucky they are.

I move upstairs to my mother's room- a room I've hardly entered since she passed right in the bed that still stands there. A tear rolls down my cheek as I remember the last words she ever said to me.

"Take care of yourself, take care of Zach, get out as soon as you can." She's told me. It's meant nothing to my 13 year old self but looking back now, I know my mother didn't want to leave. She wasn't ready to leave us behind. She fought so hard not to go.

"I love you momma." I whisper in the hope she'll hear me wherever she is. I hope she's finally happy. I hope she feels free. I head into Zach's room, sitting on the mattress I've spent so many nights on. I lie back, imagining all the times I've sung my baby brother to sleep, all the times he's bawled his eyes out and broken my heart, all the nightmares he's had over the years. "I love you baby brother."

Finally I head downstairs and back to that smelly old couch. I stand before it and force myself to remember everything. The fifth stage of grief is acceptance. It happened and I survived. We survived- Zach and I.

"I hated you father." I whisper hoping that he too will hear it wherever he is. "But what you did for Zach, that completely selfless, moral act you did for your son, that made up for everything. You know why? Because I know you loved us. You knew that would kill you but you did it anyway, because I asked, because Zach needed you. For that, I will forever be grateful."

I run a hand along the sticky, beer infused couch a final time before looking around the room. No matter how much I wish it wasn't, this is who he was. This is a part of me. All the blood, sweat and tears has made me who I am.

And who am I?

Viola Harper. 18. Senior at Edison High School, Texas. I sing, I dance, I write, I paint and I do pretty much nothing else. Apart from work my 3 part time jobs and juggle school and childcare for my younger brother Zach, that is.

I'm an orphan. I'm in love. I'm a teenage girl who's finding her place in the world. I'm just an ordinary girl, looking for an ordinary life. I'm an extraordinary girl living through an extraordinary life. I'm whatever I want to be.

I'm free.