Writing to You

Chapter 1

Ella

If you were here right now I know what you'd say. "Ella, get OUT of the rain. You'll catch a cold." I'd argue with you, tell you that feeling the rain on my skin is one of the best things ever. You'd sigh and say "Fine, but at least put a damn jacket on." And I would refuse. I would run off happily, ignoring you. I'm sorry. I'd give anything to relive those moments now. I would listen to you, I would. And now I'm writing a letter to you. But it's not a letter I can hand to you before I walk out the door to leave for school. Or that I can post to you when you're away on a work trip. No, it's not one of those. Because I am writing this letter at your grave. Your GRAVE. At least if I start crying the rain will disguise it. I miss you, mum. I don't know how many times I've said it in the past four months, but every time it only gets harder. Because every time I say it is another moment without you here. People say cuts heal over time, but I think the wound is only getting deeper. How can I forget you when you left me so much to remember? Why would I WANT to forget you? The moment your heart stopped beating and mine didn't, was the beginning of a life filled with pain. And the end of a life where anything good could ever happen. The thing is, it feels like my heart just might've stopped as well.  

I put my pen in my pocket and place the letter in a crack in the gravestone, like I always do, to make sure it doesn't fly away or get wet on rainy days like this one. I get up, holding my backpack over my head-a futile attempt at shielding myself from the rain. Most of the time, I would love getting absolutely drenched, but ever since mum died, the droplets just feel like cold, sharp daggers biting into my skin. I break into a run, my eyes trained on my car. As I'm running, I bring down the backpack from my head and fumble with the zippers, trying to get my keys out. I eventually do, but they slip out of my hands and I stop, bending over to pick them up. It's getting dark, so it takes a while for me to find them in the overgrown grass. I pick them up, grip them tightly in my hand, and keep running, the wet ground squelching between my feet. I finally reach my car, and I quickly open the door, throwing myself in the driver's seat. I turn on the ignition, jack up the heat, and start driving home. 

I open the front door, and once again the dull lighting hits me like a slap in the face. Mum never liked the house to be dark. If it was daytime, every single blind had to be open. If it was dark outside, the lights HAD to be on. Dad used to get angry at her because 'it wasn't good for the electricity bill'. 

Well, he gets his way now, doesn't he?

"Ella. Where were you?" My dad sits at the dining table, an empty plate in front of him.

"At Lily's house." I've used this lie so many times it almost feels like I believe it. If dad knew I went to the cemetery every day.....well, he wouldn't do much, actually. He doesn't do much of anything these days. But he wouldn't like it. Especially since he's visited it around a total of three times in the four months mum has been....not here. 

I run up to my room before he can say anything else. I slip into bed, not bothering to take my clothes off. 

I wonder how much sleep I'll get tonight. And how many nightmares I'll have.

**Hey guys. This is my first novel! I know it's terrible, so I'd love to hear any feedback you've got. I desperately need to improve. I'll try and update as often as I can. I hoped you liked it. Let me know in the comments. First chapter; yay or nay? Thanks! Over and out. I don't know why I said 'over and out'. **