Clopwyck River - revised version

Chapter Six

I wake up feeling upside down and turned around, taking a few goes to open my eyes properly until the last few months, days, and hours swirl around me in a maelstrom. I sit up and look around the unfamiliar room, and yelp when I realise I have an audience.
​"She's awake, Daddy." Elliot blinks at me a few times, then trots off to Andrew who is standing by the door.
​"That's what happens when you keep poking someone, buddy. They wake up eventually." Andrew smiles at me. "Sorry about the little man waking you up; he's insisted on checking up on you all morning."
​I smooth down my hair, and rub my eyes.
"S'okay. What time is it?"
​"Time for you to get up and go to the hairdressers. I told Daria I'd make sure you were up in time. If you want to get showered and stuff, I'll give you a lift into town."
​Stuck in a car with Andrew and small talk? I don't think so. "It's okay, I can walk."
​"No way, missy. I'm driving you. Can you be ready in thirty minutes?" He looks at his watch, and doesn't even give me a chance to answer. "I'll be down in the workshop, trying to get some work done at the same time as keeping this guy entertained. See you in a bit."
​Andrew leaves my room, Elliot hopping on one foot after him. As they argue whether it's safe for Elliot to go down the stairs using this method, I summon up the energy to swing my legs out of bed, grimacing as I grip the duvet, my bandaged hands reminding me of the fire, of the water, and of Ben.
​I find the bathroom and get undressed, looking forward to getting underneath the hot water, but also wondering how I'm going to manage this without getting my hands wet. I look through the cupboards, hoping I'm not going to find anything too personal, relieved to find that they're stuffed full with bath time toys. I spot a roll of tiny bin liners, and rip a couple off and slip my hands inside them, tightening them at the wrists with Daria's hair bands.
​I turn the shower on and check the temperature of the water. It's perfect. I step into the heat and steam like it's a curtain, promising something wonderful on the other side. I close my eyes, knowing there isn't anything on the other side for me, so I just stand in the fabric of the water, not able to move forward.
***
I've been thinking about Ben since the moment Elliot woke me up. In the shower, I could picture what happened so clearly, and in the hairdressers chair I was able to relive each second of the conversation between me and Ben, even with the squeaky hairdresser banging on at me about her boyfriend's new car. I mean, who cares.
​Even though I can recall every single movement and reaction, I have absolutely no idea why he would do something like that. I'll admit I've felt lost over the last few years, crashing from one party to another, not able to make a connection surrounded by a group of laughing friends. There have been times when I just wanted to switch things off, for everything to be dark, but I've never felt so hopeless that I'd thought about doing what Ben did.
​After the hairdresser cut my hair into a long bob (and I admit that she did a good job, despite all the chatter) I didn't feel like going back to the house so I decided to take a walk around Clopwyck town, now that it's stopped raining.
I amble along the streets alone, gazing into shop windows and looking at nothing much at all, keeping out of the way of Clopwyck residents as they go about their business. I spot a coffee shop called Chancellor's and my stomach growls. Andrew made me have some cereal before we left for the hairdressers, but I haven't eaten anything since then. I open the door and the intoxicating aroma of coffee grounds and hot chocolate envelopes me. There must be something delicious and calorie laden for me to eat in here.
I immediately regret coming in. This is obviously the place everyone comes to after school, and judging by all the uniforms, school has just finished. I wait for a high school movie style hush to fall over the entire shop as they whisper "who's the new girl?", but nobody pays me any attention and everyone carries on laughing, messing around on their phones, and flirting with each other. Thank goodness.
A small round table and a plush armchair under the stairs invite me over, and I settle down, sliding down into its comfort and hiding from everyone else in the coffee shop. I look around, realising that the decor is completely made out of old books. They're stacked from the ground up, spines facing outwards, and stop a few feet below the ceiling rising and falling in small waves. Vintage books stand on the tables, delicate lettering spelling out the word 'Menu' on the front of each of them. I consider what a lovely place this would be to come and do some sketching, if I ever start drawing again. Being nestled under the stairs in my chair, surrounded by the noise softening books, gives me the warm and fuzzies, and I snuggle down, enjoying the solitude.
"You're new aren't you?"
My warm and fuzzy seclusion comes crashing down around my ears.