erase | e.d

p r o l o g u e

E T H A N D O L A N

"This is stupid," I mutter under my breath as I throw my arms over one another and slouch in the uncomfortable chair outside an office. I don't even want to be here. "Can we just go?"

My mom groans and gives me the side eye, furrowing her eyebrows. "No. Ethan, you need the help. Stop denying it." She copies me as she crosses her arms over.

I roll my eyes, turning my head to focus on the 'suicide prevention' posters outside the office in the little room that we sat in. A receptionist kept on catching my eye, seen as I was looking just above her — she must of thought I was checking her out. Ew.

Ok, I'll admit it, I tried to kill myself on my seventeenth birthday.

But does that mean I can escape this sort of prison for youngsters? No. Nothing will.

I don't want to be here, both present and in general — clique. What can I say? Oh, I would like to kill myself because I am sick and tired of being treated like pure shi—

"Ethan Dolan?"

I look up to see a middle-aged woman with bright blonde hair — almost white looking — and big reading glasses that sat low on her nose while she took a look up and down at me and then to her notepad. She looks too young to be a therapist, or is it just me?

My mom shoots up, looking down at me with a 'come on' look, raising her eyebrows slightly then back to the woman with a kind smile.

I reluctantly roll my eyes again as I take a stand, stuffing my hands into my baggy jean pockets and follow them into the office room which is apparently full of more posters. Great.

Now for the funnest part of it all!

Not really.

Kill me now, why don't you.

We all take a seat in the chairs provided, again I slouch and my mom tells me off but I ignore her as usual.

"So, Ethan," the lady leans forwards towards me, clicking down her pen. "Tell me about yourself."

———

"That was shit." I spit, swinging open the car door and jumping in the passengers seat.

"First of all, language! And second of all, it wasn't that bad. At least you say something." My mom claims in a 'duh' kind of tone, getting into the car gently. She's wrong. It was dreadful, I'm never going back.

I won't. Not ever.

"Transfer me to a boarding school." I cross my arms and furrow my eyebrows at the building in front of us as we are still sitting in the parking lot.

She chuckles, "Ethan you're being stupid. I'm not sending you to a—"

"Send me off somewhere then! I don't want to fucking be here anymore! I'm sick of it all." I begin to raise my voice, using hand gestures as if I'm getting my point across at an election — an election for me to fuck off out of this place and just be by myself for the rest of my days and die young.

No expression except shock is written across her face. Clueless. Speechless. Absolute loss of words has overcome her.

Oops?

I mean, she wants me to open up about how I feel so, I did.

After a moment, she blinks a few times and quickly turns on the ignition. I just stare at her, confused but relieved. About time she stops telling me what I need and don't need. I'm old enough to make my own choices.

My mom starts to drive down the weirdly deserted street, weaving in and out of round-a-bouts like it's her final job to do so. Wow, I've never seen this side of her before.

Soon enough, she pressed down on the break as we arrived at the local airport which wasn't far from our house. She turned in and gave me a stern look.

"You want to look after yourself?" She had both hands secured to the wheel to stop them from shaking with some-what anger which it looks like. I paused for a moment, taking in what expression she's trying to set off.

"Yeah." I admit, stupidly, as if I was asking a question. I furrowed my eyebrows as anger was still boiling inside of me from the meeting.

"Fine." She stops, rapidly reaching for her purse and pulling out a few hundred dollar bills.

What the fuck?

I give off a confused look, flickering my eyes from her fingers struggling to take out whatever she was getting back to the top of her head. I heard a small whimper escape from her, making me soften slightly. What have I done?

"Here," she hands me overs the bills roughly placing them in the palm of my shaky, weak hand. What...? "Look after yourself, Ethan." She refuses to look at me.

I scoff, "Whatever." And with that, I swing back open the passenger car door and head for the airport. This will get me a ticket to London, I can start fresh with some internet friends there.

I wouldn't dare to look back... but I did.

She was gone.

Forever.