Shape Shifting Love

Chapter Three

Chapter 3

Michaela

I can’t stop crying, sitting on my bed surrounded by a cloud of tissues. But just as I’m about to grab another tissues, I decide enough is enough I can’t be this cry baby any longer. Not now that I’ve got no one to turn to, apart from Mason but he doesn’t know the half of it. I’ve made my decision; I need to toughen up for mine and Mason’s sake. I mean I know he could probably look after himself, but if I’m looking stronger than maybe he may have a little more happiness in him. I mean who could be happy at a time like this, but maybe after this has blown over for a while we can make some happy memories instead of these sombre ones. So I head over to my wardrobe and grab all the clothes that will make me look braver, anything to convince Mason I am there to watch out for him. I swap my ballet flats for my doc martens that I haven’t worn in years. I lace them up and look at myself in the mirror, not recognising the girl that stands before me. I take my eye liner and pile it on until my eyes are unrecognisable. My long stripped socks, black skirt and black long sleeved top tightly fitted to my body. I’m saying good bye to the old me, because she will no longer any use from here on. I throw my dark eye liner, a jumper and black lipstick into my bag and sling it over by shoulder and head my way downstairs.

Saying good bye to my room, Lola’s room, my younger sister, which is still just as messy as she left it this morning. Then I pass my parents’ room the tear welling up inside of me as I fight to make them disappear. But I go inside, willing to get one last look at their lives that they once lived. The door creaks as I open it; I walk round the room gazing at all the decorations and status they had gathered over the years. Just as I’m about to leave a glistening object catches my eye. I go over to see what it is and I don’t recognise it at all. A necklace with a detailed pattern carved into the metal, I pick it up trying to remember when I may have seen my mother wearing it and telling myself that she must have worn it some time. Clasping it in my hand I decide to take it as a reminder of her even though I can’t put my finger on her ever wearing it in front of me. Hanging it round my neck and tucking it under my top as I continue my way downstairs to the front door.

And just as I’m about to open it someone knocks. I open the door to find Mason stood there with his rucksack on his back and his trousers and hoodie looking way too big for him for him. When he walks in he practically drags his feet along the floor, obviously still depressed from this afternoon. Just as he’s about to speak I grab him and hug so tightly I’m afraid I may hurt him. Holding his shoulders as I push him back, his eyes glazed with tears as I look into them and say, “Mason, trust me it can only get better, can’t it? I mean it has to, things always get better right?” But he doesn’t look at me and turns to go upstairs but I can’t deal with going up there again, I spin him round before he even has a chance to move away from my reach, “Look I’m here for you and I know you will always be there for me, so let’s just go outside and wait for that man to come, anyways do you finds him strange?” But Mason just nods and follows me out onto the porch as we sit and wait for the car to arrive.