Rebellious

Tears and Constellations

~Chapter Fourteen: Tears and Constellations

Roar_Jungle ©~

My mother is dead. My mother is fucking dead. She's gone. What a great fucking, early, Christmas present. She slipped from my grasp and now she is no longer within my reach.

My fists clench around the blanket that surrounds me. I've made a cacoon out of duvets and blankets. My hair is a knotty mess. My face is tear streaked and stained. My eyes are bloodshot and believe me, I got a pretty big scare when I looked in the mirror as I was washing my hands. My stomach hasn't stopped growling over the past 32 hours.

My fingers twitch as I swipe at some tears that are falling down my cheeks. I'm lying in the dark, surrounded by blankets and duvets. Gina and the boys have tried to talk to me but I just block them out.

A heavy weight has settled on my chest and I'm struggling to breathe properly. The oxygen gets stuck in my throat where a lump has formed. My ribs feel like they have tightened around my lungs and that air flow is restricted.

Rolling into my back, I stare up into the ceiling. How did this happen?? Why did this happen?? It's not fair!! My mum didn't deserve to end her life like that. She is - was- the kindest woman I know. She never doubted me and is, was, so positive about everything. When the situation is bleak, she knows exactly what to do. She knows exactly what to say and how to act if everything is going downhill.

I can't help but think how similar we are. We both have a taste in Art and Music. We both have a thing for French and Italian cuisine. Hell, we both even have a crush on Leonardo DiCaprio, Christian Bale and Matt Damon!! If that's not saying something, I don't know what is. We both love the Horror and Suspense genre. We both love the sunshine and the summer heat. We both prefer to stay inside and watch movies all day and eat shitty food than go outside and exercise. I'm so much like my Mum, but yet we are both completely different.

Why do keep thinking about your Mum in the present?? She's gone, she's dead. My subconscious states bitterly.

It's because I'm not ready to let go. I'm not ready to lose the authority figure in my life, the only one that I really listen to, apart from Gina.

Rolling onto my side, I stare at the clock. 4:15a.m. is what it reads. I haven't slept over the past couple of nights. I didn't sleep at all yesterday when the news was broken. I haven't slept at all today so...

My stomach hasn't stopped growling and I really need something to eat. Pushing back the covers, goosebumps trail up and down my skin at the sudden drop in temperature. How did it get so cold?? Opening my door a crack, I attentively listen for any noises that would declare that someone is up and about. Creeping down the hallway, and sneaking into the kitchen, I open the fridge door. Poking and prodding at a few glade wrapped plates, I quietly close the door and move towards the pantry. My fingertips are my only guide as I tip-toe from one side of the room to the other. Grasping the pantry door handle, it creaks as I open it and I can't help the cringe that happens as it opens. My breathing is slow as I listen for any movement from my loud disturbance. Nothing. Not a peep. No sound at all. God this family are heavy sleepers. My fingers glide over packets and boxes. The plastic rustles under my touch and I tense my already tensed shoulders. Listening for any movement apart from mine. Letting out a shaky breath, I pull out a box and hold it under the moonlight.

Oreo.

There is a god on this planet!! Tearing open the packet, I don't care about how noisy I am being. Oreos are food from heaven above.

Yanking a creamy goodness out of the packet, I shove it into my mouth and chew it quickly. Grabbing another, that is, too, quickly eaten. My mouth feels sticky after eating the delicious biscuits. My fingertips dance over the cabinet doors until they find the one I want. Carefully taking out a glass, I return to the fridge and fill the cup up with milk. Pulling the Oreo box towards me, I dunk some in the milk at savour the heavenly taste. Taking another from the box, I don't even bother about the milk. Stuffing it into my mouth, my head falls back in pure pleasure as the cream and biscuit go down my throat. I can't even remember the last time I ate Oreos. That must be a sin. Grabbing the glass of milk in front of me, I gulp it down. Staring into the crystal cup, I gently place it on the bench and lean on the counter. Nobody has closed the kitchen curtains..