The Fighter - Zayn Malik Featuring

Losing

I used to love the truck. I guess I still loved it, but it was a forbidden love. When we first moved into the house, the truck had already been beside  it. It was clearly dumped, but everyone loved it. It didn't work, it was stuck deep in the mud, but it served as our playground. No one towed it away. It was a shappy, rusty old truck that sat right beside a tall Cherry Blossom tree. Childhood Summer days were spent there, the delight of not having to wear sunscreen since the tree shaded the truck.

 I remember George and I playing in the back of it, it was spacious and fun. I remember staying there until dusk as a young teenager, laughing with old school friends. Even at the beginning of last Summer, Jenny, Tash, Azure, Amelia and I had wore our rosy Summer dresses up into the back of the truck, laying down with vanilla ice creams and gazing through the shafts of light from the towering tree. We would talk all afternoon until George crawled up and Scotch pounced on us, covering us in dog slobber. After Amelia died, vines cascaded around the rear of the truck and no one wanted to visit it. I distinctly remember waking one morning and going out to the mail box to see, in the corner of my eye, that vandles had shattered the front window of our beloved truck. That scarred me.

I sighed. Old memories only braught pain. Rain pattered against the bus window in every shade of blue. I was going to get off at the bus stop closest to home. School hadn't been too bad, except everyone kept staring at my short hair in a crazy way. I liked my hair short, it made my head feel light. A message lit up my phone.

Skye, I'm coming home early Hun, wait till I get home.

It was Mum. She hadn't seen me since yesterday morning. As if I would run off somewhere anyway. I got off the bus into the rain, once again not caring about getting wet. I walked along the path until I saw our old rusty truck. The window was still broken. It looked sad and lonely, longing for human warmth. I pulled my eyes away. Too many memories.

When I arrived home, Mum was already there.

"How was school- Lord what did you do to your hair?" She asked, shocked.

"Mum nothing please-did you want to tell me something?"

Mum fiddled with my hair, pulled away and inhaled deeply.

"I know this will be a shock to you, but I have to tell you because it can't be hidden and you will find out anyway."

She led me to the couch and sat me down, even though I was stiff.

"Please take this softly, I know about Dad and Amelia, I just need you to listen. Last night, I was driving home from work. I was dazed...I saw, well I saw a shape beside the road, very small and familiar. It was lying on the edge of the road and other cars ignored it so I stopped to see what it was and to my shock..." Mum's voice quietened to a weak whisper, almost fully overtaken by emotion.

"It was Scotch, darl. Scotch got hit by a car." She covered her face. I stared at her blankly. Scotch? My cheerful dog in the backyard?

"No Mum, you're wrong. Come. COME!" I pulled her up from the couch and took her into the backyard. Scotch is here. He is here. Scotch is here. Wasn't he? Scotch? I looked around, feeling like a mental woman.

Mum hugged me as I gasped for air. 

"He must have escaped...he was probably searching the streets when he got-" She stopped.

I was so trapped in my world of being self-centred I hadn't lay a thought for scotch. My heart ached even more. BUT SCOTCH HAD TO BE HERE. HE HAD TO BE.

My head spun. I lost grip of reality. I fell. I fell hard.

When I woke up I was in bed, a cold pack on my forehead.

"Doctor Pochin said you'd wake from cold press." Mum said, relieved. 

"Scotch?" I muttered, but nothing escaped my lips.

"And Doctor Pochin also said you clearly not eating well." Mum declared, feeding me soup I didn't taste.

"Scotch?" I asked again.

"Don't worry, Skye, drink this." 

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It had taken weeks for recovery. I had lost weight and looked frail. My full cheeks looked sullen and my curvy structure was weak. I still went to school, only gaining glares and whispers. I recognised Tash, one of my old friends. She sent a weak, sympathetic smile in my direction, to summarise the pain we all felt. I did not return it.

I woke up usually at four in the morning, in bed beside a window of raindrops. I lay there, playing with my imagination, whispering to the shadows dancing in the windy trees and staring at the moon. I had lost Dad. I had lost George. I had lost Amelia. I had lost Scotch. I could have convinced Dad to stay, I could have told George that I loved him so he would remember me when he grew up. I could have replied to Amelia's dazed phone call, told her that I would come to her. I could have taken better care of Scotch, without leaving himself to survive in this cold world. I had lost almost everything. I had lost the memory of the feeling of fulfillment and gain. 

What more did I have to lose?

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Hey...today's song's Wide Awake <3 Enjoy! Now there's a pic of Skye >>>.

P.S- Zayn's coming up in next chapter! YAY FINALLY <3 plz vote