"You save yourself or you remain unsaved." - Alice Sebold.
°°°
Florence Rosa Brine - this is her story.
It's a sad one, to be honest. Her version of events is one that would surprise even those who think they knew everything about her.
After a s...
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‹TWO›
‹Part 1›
It's 7:30 am. I should be up and getting ready. But no, today I really cannot get up from this sofa.
With my head resting against a flat pillow covering one armrest of the three-seater couch, and my legs crossed over the armrest on the other side, I outstretch my arms and tense my leg muscles, releasing a long yawn. Ever since last weeks encounter with Jake at the hospital, I haven't been bothered to do anything. Every single day – including the weekends – I've had to drag myself out of bed at around this time and go to the hospital with Becca.
I glance at the clock again - 7:35 am.
I swear it was only 7:30 am three seconds ago.
Rebecca will be here any minute now, expecting me to fully dressed and fed. She hates being late, and the first day I opted to go along with her to the hospital for my work experience, she was fuming because I made her 5 minutes behind schedule.
She's a workaholic, who also happens to like toy boys.
The images of Jake and Becca flirting resurface in my mind, and it takes everything within me not to throw up on my mother's fancy rug. Careful to keep my lips sealed shut, just in case I do actually vomit, I push myself upwards to sit upright on the sofa.
"Ah," I wince once the shooting pain bursts on every inch of my back. My hand instantly moves to massage the small of my back, where the pain is more prominent.
Sleeping on a sofa for the past three weeks (ever since I arrived here) has not been good for my back. And every day when I wake up, I sense the pain seems to be getting worse and more unendurable.
You would think I'd have my old bedroom back, the one I used to inhabit when I lived here two years ago. However, since my parents' divorce, a lot of things have changed. Seeing as it was my mother who broke the family apart, I decided to part with my father and go to live with him in Australia. And now that my mother is remarried with a child on the way, my old bedroom has been converted to a nursery.
Of course my parents' divorce was not the only reason I decided to pack my bags and disappear, my reasons are much more in depth than that. However it was a major factor, I'll admit that.
Yet, even when my mother found out that I'll be returning to this town to finish my last year of 6th form*, she didn't seem too happy about it. I don't think she's fully forgiven me for what I did two years ago - the moving away part, on top of sharing her little secret with my father, which resulted in their divorce.
So, I don't think she could care less about the state of my back.
I guess I don't blame her though, I wouldn't be too happy with me either.
Taking a deep breath and prying my tired eyes wide open to wake them up; I push the blanket from the lower part of my body and stand up from the sofa. As soon as I step into the hallway, the smell of burnt toast intoxicates the air and suffocates my airway.
