Mending Rosaline| slow updates

♛ 01 ♛

I woke in a cold sweat, I swear the therapy for my PTSD was working, but clearly not, even after my parents had cashed out on hundreds of dollars for it. If you asked me what I felt about it, though no one never did, I'd say it was a waste of money for 'expressing my feelings' to a person with a degree in psychology, which I suspected was gained online, for hours on end. I could have been doing other things, like drawing or listening to music.

That was practically the only activity I could do, I couldn't bring myself to watch a TV series when all it reminded me of was Sam's obsession and Eleanor's lack of it, neither could I read books without ending in tears over the simple fact that El would never be absorbed by a book again.

Art was my only release, Sam and El never liked art or got involved with my artwork, when they were around I would have been disappointed that they didn't take interest in my hobbies, but now I am beyond thankful. I'd have nothing else to do since I was rubbish at sport. I was a couch potato and I wasn't going to change.

After laying in bed gazing at the posters of my favourite bands on the wall, The 1975 and The Neighbourhood, I got up and took a shower. I carelessly stood in there for what felt like ages to calm my nerves, it was hard to take baths without feeling like I was drowning in Ellington Lake all over again.

I was lured out of the shower by the enticing smell of pancakes and coffee, my parents must be breaking some news to me, otherwise they wouldn't make my favourite breakfast to suck up to me. But I was hungry nonetheless.

When I arrived downstairs, I saw bags and suitcases piled high as a mountain at the bottom of the staircase, were we going on holiday? If so I was up for it.

"Li, could you come in here?" My mother beckoned me in her sweet voice.

I suspiciously eyed my parents as I walked around the table and gathered my pancakes and toppings.

"Why have you made pancakes?"

"Are they no longer your favourite food?" My mom asked worriedly.

"They are, but there must be an ulterior motive for it, you guys never make them." I said sceptically.

"Can't we make pancakes for our favourite daughter?"

"I'm your only child, unless you have something to tell me?" I joked.

"No it's not that, your mother and I have to tell you something else." My dad looks across to my mom.

"We may or may not be moving to England." My mom said hurriedly while scanning my face for any signs I might have another mental break down.

"When?" I said in a clipped voice, after counting to ten and taking deep breaths.

"In a fortnight." My dad says looking past me, fixing his gaze on the pile of suitcases he had retrieved from under the stairs.

"We think you need a fresh start, to forget about the accident, you know, nothing here will help you, it'll just remind you of them."

"What if I don't want to forget Sam and El?" I replied defensively.

"We don't mean it like that, but your PTSD won't get any better here."

"It is getting better, I swear" I fibbed.

"Li, we can hear you screaming at night, we know the nightmares are happening again." My mom said uneasily.

"Why do we have to move so far?" I said despairingly.

"Our family is over there." My mom said starting to get agitated at my opposition to their idea.

"What about school, it's already halfway through the year!"

"We've got you a place in a boarding school." My dad calmly said.

"A what? A boarding school? So you're sending me away, not to mention alone?"

"It's for the best Rosaline" my dad sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, he hardly ever said my full name, only when he was annoyed.

"What if it doesn't turn would to be?"

"Rosaline, please stop worrying, we have it all planed it out."

"What about the house" I questioned placing my knife and fork on my plate, I was no longer hungry.

"Li, you've barely eaten anything."

"Stop trying to change the subject!"

"Li, you need to eat!" My mom said trying to compose herself, they treated my like a bomb, if they yelled at me I would explode. After the accident, I developed a minor eating disorder, I couldn't bring myself to eat knowing that Sam, who loved food, would never eat again or El, who loved everything vegan.

"What about my therapy sessions?" I tried my last resort,"I was bonding with her, she was helping me" I lied, even though my parents knew that I despised her and she wasn't helping me.

"Our decision is final." My dad concluded my pleading, I got up and walked out.

"We'll start packing next week Li." My mom called after me.

I knew my parents doing it for the best, but I couldn't shake the feeling of annoyance that they wouldn't confer with me or what I wanted. I hated boarding schools, my English cousins went to a boarding school in the North of Scotland. The school they when to was apparently among a dozen of the 'most prestigious schools in west Europe' I highly doubted that. My cousins were snobbish and full of themselves, I hoped to God that I didn't end up going to that school.

After I had clambered up to the attic, I turned to my painting easel and started painting, I didn't know what I was doing, just that it was an outlet for all my emotions. It was already too late when I realised I was painting Ellington Lake, it wasn't what it would look like in winter, in the painting it looked like summer, and you could see the white flowers on the banks, slightly decaying from the malnourished water they would be obtaining from the lake, willows draping their leaves over the lake like curtains covering the accident.

What shocked me the most was the faint outline of what looked like the school bus, it's once sunflower yellow paint job had been replaced by rust. Seaweed had weaved in and out of the glass-less windows.

I backed away from the painting and cast it to the wooden floor of my bedroom, I hadn't painted something like that in months, I was getting better, I was sure of it, I had started to paint different things like the scarlet red rose in the garden or next door's cat. Why have I gotten worse? I haven't had any panic attacks, but then again I hadn't painted something like this up until now.

Did this mean that I would be having a panic attack soon? I hated panic attacks, it felt like I was suffocating in my own body, confined to this frail body. The PTSD and panic attack hadn't helped my health, they made me worry about everything, even the simple things. I was anxious all the time.

My therapist told me that if I wrote my feelings down, it would help get of them, I tried and it didn't work, nothing my therapist said helped me.

I got out my diary and started to write a list of things I would do, my tears splattering onto the green leather binding, like a bucket list or a New Years resolution, but it was more like things that I would promise myself.

Promises

•eat more food
•be happy
•make new friends
•let someone in

I paused on the last promise, it would be hard to let someone in, would they be able to handle it or would they take off like everyone else did and tell the whole world?

I resolved to see how it all planned out and not worry all the time.

Hi guys, I really need motivation to keep writing these chapters so please vote or comment!

Until next time,
Ciara xx