Ruin Me

13. Leave me

"Wake up my love," moms voice tickled my ear and a smile automatically spread across my lips even in my sleepy haze, "good afternoon."

"Afternoon," I stretched as I gazed up at my beautiful mom. She was the most stunning person I'd ever seen.

People had always said that I was pretty, but they said that mom was gorgeous. We looked a lot alike, almost sisters because she was so young, but she had that edge on me. Somewhere in the confidence of her smile and glimmer in her eyes she was the more beautiful version of me.

"How do I look?" mom did a spin in her stunning black silk, skin tight dress and shocking red high heels. Her face was all dolled up with dramatic eye shadow and fire engine red lipstick.

"Beautiful as always," I propped myself up on the bed and glanced at the clock. It was three in the afternoon. I'd been up all night in the casino bar waiting for mom to finish her game. When she'd finally emerged at five am I'd helped her back to bed as she could barely keep her eyes open.

Now she was off again in a whirlwind of hairspray and lipgloss to meet some big league opponents for lunch as they wanted to challenge her to a match that evening. I doubted I would see her again today.

"Thank you darling," mom kissed my forehead no doubt leaving a red mark and wafting her distinctive Chanel scent all over me, "I have to go now but look after yourself okay. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

She had a teasing smile on her lips and a lively glint in her eye as she waggled her fingers at me and sashayed out the door.

Little did I know that would be the last time I'd see her without a bullet in her head.

***

"Cara just open the door," Mitchell banged his fist on the door in irritation, "please!"

I kept my mouth closed just as I'd done the entire day and listened as Mitch barged against the door causing the wardrobe I'd pushed in front of it to tremble.

For the entire morning each of them had tried to persuade me to let them in to no avail. Couldn't they see that I didn't want to talk to them?

I remained curled up in the foetal position clutching moms blanket close to me and listening to Simon and Garfunkel quietly. I couldn't bare to see any of their faces and know that each moment I was spending with them was only putting them in more and more danger. Each time I opened up to them I was only putting them in a worse position. I couldn't do it anymore.

I wouldn't. For their sake.

"Cara," Mitch was getting more and more angry, "what happened?"

"Just leave me alone," I yelled at the door, "I don't want to speak to you."

"I don't care," Mitch yelled, "we want to speak to you."

I simply rolled over and pulled my pillow over my head to block them all out.

Eventually they left.

At lunch they came back and left food outside my door. They did the same at dinner but both times I didn't respond and didn't dare go out and get it as I knew they'd be waiting to pounce on me. Instead I ate from the pile of chocolate bars I had stashed under my bed. I read Wuthering Heights again and stared at the birthday card mom gave me every year. I stroked her curly, girly handwriting that she'd scrawled in each birthday.