Boxes littered my new house like discarded rubbish strewn across an urban street. Memories were packed tightly, bits and bobs from past trips and holidays jammed tightly in. My old house was like a shell now, empty and nameless. I decided to move to Cornwall with my mother after my dad died of cancer earlier this year. I needed a fresh start to just escape from it all. My relationship with my mother was very shaky, we never did get on. Her OCD and depression often clouded over me and made my day to day life a living hell. She drowned out all her troubles by drinking. She had always turned to the bottle but after my father died her habits got a lot worse. I never had an easy life. The alcohol invaded her mind and turned her into a monster. Her outbursts of anger would be directed at me, both verbally and physically. Bruises often covered my body and I had mental wounds deeper than any physical cuts all because of her. I hated her with every single fibre of my being. Two more years. Only two more years till I’m free and can leave and travel the world and discover all of its wondrous mysteries.
The garden behind my house was beautiful. Emerald green grass kissed the tall dominant hedges as the clouds floated by the blue sky above. An ancient apple tree stood in the bottom left hand corner and on the other side, lay an old tattered wooden shed; full of old tools and various D.I.Y equipment. Juicy apples hung tightly to the old branches of the tree, rocking side to side in the gentle breeze. If you listen carefully, you can hear the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks on the nearby coast. I loved the outdoors. It gave me a chance to escape my mother’s awful torments. A beautiful haven away from everything. The house itself was quite old with blistered window frames and bare wooden floorboards. The hinges on the doors let out little screams when you pushed them open. The smell of damp hung in the air but your nose quickly got used to it. Boxes piled up in most of the rooms, stuffed in the corners and stacked from floor to ceiling. Unpacking was the least of my worries, I wanted to explore. My bedroom was the smallest in the house even though I had the most stuff. My mum was always selfish about things like space. She was ‘more important’ than me so therefore deserved the bigger room. An old tattered blue rug lay on my wooden floor. My walls were a dull white with dirty frames but it was mine. Peering out the tinted window, I noticed a tall teenage boy leaning against the trunk of my apple tree. What was he doing in my garden? His clothes were old and warn with holes ripped in multiple places. His face was lifeless and empty. With an absent mind, I stared at him, daydreaming, wondering why he was there.
“TAYLOR!” my mother shouted from downstairs. I came back to life’s cruel reality, turning my head fast. When I looked back out of the window, the boy had gone, just vanished. Maybe I was just imagining it. My mother’s words were slurred but full of anger. She was drunk. Again. I let out a sigh and headed for the stairs. She was stood at the bottom staring up at me, a wine bottle clutched tightly in her hands. “You stupid child! You can’t spend all day lazing around in your room. Get down here now and help me clean!” She stared at me through her bloodshot eyes. I was terrified to my very core. She spat at me, her saliva landing on my check. “Vermin!” she screamed turning away. She finally progressed out of my sight, wobbling and cursing as she went. I was used to this behaviour as it was nearly an everyday occurrence. Wiping the spit away from my face, I held back the tears. Crying was a weakness and I sure as hell wasn’t weak. I hid my emotions well. No one on this Earth knew how I was feeling. Sometimes, even I was unaware of the true emotions that ran through me. I lived in the shadows, cowering and afraid but no one knew. People in the shadows aren’t seen and no one cares. Out of sight, out of mind, I guess. I advanced down the stairs, wondering what tormenting tasks my mother had in store for me.
The stairway was beautiful. Old polished oak twisted up to the top floor, shining in the light. Each step was individually carved, unique to the very last scratch. The cold smooth wood caressed my feet, squeaking gently under my weight as I walked. The grand stair case led me into the large living room which was situated at the front of my old house. The sunlight streamed through an open window. Such a wonderful day and yet I’m imprisoned inside. Trapped. My mother was slumped over the cooker, scrubbing vigorously at its metal insides. She looked up whilst wiping the sweat away from her brow. “You stupid bitch! I’ve been labouring away for hours whilst you sat on your lazy arse, doing nothing! You were a mistake!” She grabbed the metal ring from the cooker and threw it at my defenceless body. I cowered back and let out a scream as the cold object slammed into my shoulder. The ring bounced of my arm and hit the floor, letting out a long metallic ring.
“I-I-I didn-“
“Shut up you useless waste of space” my mother yelled through gritted teeth. Her face was full of rage, hear eyes red with anger. “Get out of my face!”
I sprinted from the kitchen and into my garden. I needed to get away from her. My bruised arm throbbed with incredible pain. Tears burnt in my eyes as I ran through the tall green grass. I slumped down at the base of my apple tree, resting my head between my legs, making myself as small as possible. It was then a felt a kind of presence. The air around me was suddenly cold even though I was sat in full daylight. I slowly lifted my head from the security of my broken body. I cautiously looked around. A hand gripped my left shoulder. I jumped out of my skin and leaped to my feet. Nobody was there. Catching back my breath, I wiped the hair out of my face and sang my favourite song to calm myself down.
“Hello?” my voice sounded almost uneven; shaky and unlike my own. The only sounds that filled the air was light bird song and the rustling of leaves. I was all on my own and yet I felt like I was accompanied by another soul. I briskly turned my head expecting to see nothing more than my shadow but instead I was confronted by the teenage boy I noticed earlier from my window. I chocked on my own breath in shock.
“Who the hell are you?” I staggered back in bewilderment as he reached out his hand and grabbed my arm. His skin was stone cold and caused shivers to bolt up my spine.
“My name’s Phoenix. Help me.” He sounded deep and croaky. His skin was pale and life-less.
“What? I don’t understand. I’ve never met you so how can I help you?” I asked, with confusion painted across my face.
“You are the only one that can set me free. I need you to help me. Without you my soul can never be free.”
“ What are you talking about? You are crazy! I-I-have to go now.” I took two smalls steps back as I spoke, trying to avoid eye contact. It was then I decided I was going to sprint, I didn’t have to explain myself to this weirdo. I counted to three and ran as fast as my little legs could carry me.
“Wait!” I heard him shout in the distance. Freak. I walked past the living room and peered quickly in. My mother was collapsed on the sofa, wine tipped all over herself. She was asleep, I could hear her snoring from the door way. I proceeded upstairs and into my room, closing the door carefully behind me. So I didn’t wake up mother. I couldn’t be dealing with her torture right now. I figured out that it was best to leave her to her drunken dreams. I looked out of window to check if he was still there. Nope, no sign of him. I let out a sigh of relief. Closing my curtains swiftly, I turned and headed for bed. I didn’t care what the time was, I needed to rest. I buried myself deeply into my duvet and tried to forget the world.
