Paper Cuts (COMPLETED)

Chapter Nine: Far From the Madding Crowd

Excuses like 'studying for my final year of school' don't work on my mother, and so I was forced into the car beside my brothers; a day trip for the whole family. Something deep inside me knew it would end in tears, and that it would be because of me. I tried to stop myself, but anything more than an hour spent with my family is a push too far in the direction of a complete meltdown.

Lewis chewed on one of his ear-phones, while the other blasted something I would've liked to hear in a club. I tried to ignore the usual queasiness that Mum's car gave me, and plugged in my own music.

A day trip out to Mum's old county, to have lunch at the country club and then come home again, didn't sound so bad, but with everything that had happened, I was on edge, and I knew that if provoked I would push one of my parents over the edge.

After pulling away from the grubbier parts of London, we were soon enough met with meadows and farmhouses, dark green under a heavy grey sky that threatened to burst with rain.

Just because I felt as though I had the right to, I decided to make a snide remark: "I just find it funny how we don't have any money one second, and then we're going to eat at the country club the next."

I kept my music on, so that I couldn't hear their response, but I saw Mum's mouth move. I stared back out the window.

Lunch was cold and minimal, but expensive, and we wandered the tree-lined roads back to our car, Lewis and Simon passing the ball between them. Simon slipped to fall face first into a puddle of mud, ruining his white t-shirt and new khaki trousers. Mum sighed exasperatedly and grabbed his arm to haul him upright, and scolded him softly as she wiped the excess mud from his front, leaving behind a brown splurge.

"Simon, what an idiot," Lewis said, and I laughed.

"So dumb," I muttered under my breath, and shook my head as the two of us laughed.

"You two weren't any better at that age," chided Dad, and we both shot him an annoyed look.

The drive home was slower than the drive out, and for some reason I forgot to put on my music and simply listened to Simon's constant nagging at my parents.

"Mummy, I have a headache," he moaned. Mum turned around and peered over the top of her sunglasses, gripping his knee. He sat atop a towel on Dad's cream-leather seats.

"Ok sweetie, I don't have anything on me," Mum soothed, "You'll have to wait until we get home." She passed him a water bottle, "Drink some water."

Simon pouted and smacked the bottle away, spraying me wet. I gasped and smacked his thigh, then his head and arm.

"You absolute twat!" I yelled, and Mum turned to glare at me.

"Don't talk to him like that! He has a headache."

"I don't fucking care," I screeched, hitting Simon some more as he wailed.

"Language," warned Dad.

"Fuck you," I said, and knew that I had pulled the last straw. The car braked suddenly, and we were all thrown forward. Mum gave a wail ('Honey!') and Lewis pulled his music from his ears to complain, but Dad was already turning in his seat to point at me.

"Sarah, just shut your mouth, alright?" He shouted, and I stared back, forcing myself to hold back angry tears, "Everything that comes out of it does my head in."

The car accelerated again, and Dad turned around with one last threatening, eye-bulging glower. I put my head against the window and let the hot tears fall.