The Art of Letting You Go

just these four walls i roam

Avery's POV:

I swung open the backdoor and threw my bag on the floor. I wince realizing my mom is probably asleep by now. How did we let it get so late?

I internally groan as I pick my bag back up and make my way towards my room. My tears have dried for the most part, yet my discomfort remains. What if Olly left me? Falls out of love with me?

I open the door to my room and shut it quickly, not wanting my mom to see the shadow of my feet from under her door. I place my bag at my desk and plop down on my bed, hands crossed on my stomach.

Why am I so worried he'd leave me after I kissed Logan? I mean, he did kiss Taylor and I've still received no explanation. Yet he's the one who needs time to think. And at least my kiss held no meaning.

I huffed in annoyance and rolled onto my stomach. I heard my mother's door open and quickly squirmed under my covers, trying my hardest to cover my face that's still littered with makeup. I hear my door handle jiggle and immediately curse myself for not locking it earlier.

"Avery Eleanor Michelson." My mom announces instead of questions as she steps into the room. Oh lord.

I have no choice but to pull the covers off my body. I slowly meet her gaze, hoping she'd see my mascara tears and would let go whatever anger she was holding. "Yes?" I say innocently. 

"Tell me where you were today." I flinch at her question. I've never skipped school before, should I lie? 

"School?"

My mom's eyes grow darker in anger before she stomps over to my bed and pulls the covers further down my body. She stands next to my head, her hands gripping her hips so tightly I can see the white of her knuckles. 

"Do not lie to me. Where were you?" She demands again. I shift up so I'm sitting. "At an ice cream shop." I answer truthfully, realizing what I had just said sounded like nothing but a lie. The hallway light that had been peering into my room seemed to make the confession roll out of me. 

"An ice cream shop?" She repeats, slightly tilting her head in confusion. 

"Yes..." I reply hesitantly. My eyes wander from her harsh gaze to various things around my room. They land on Olly's sweatshirt a couple of times, on the back of a chair where I had left it last night. They also study the peeling of my wallpaper.

"Look at me." My mother demands. I hold back my sigh of annoyance and oblige. I don't think disobeying her would be of very good use right now. Has she even blinked since she's walked in here?

"Who were you with... at this ice cream shop?" She says in a suggestive tone. 

"Olly, and it was an ice cream shop." I defend myself as she leans her head closer to mine, studying my face as if a lie would showcase itself to her.

She hums and stays silent for a few seconds before walking over to my bag. I shift uncomfortably as she unzips the bag and starts to throw my notebooks out of it, in search of something.

"Hey!" I refrain myself from shouting as one of my art projects gets thrown to the wood floor. I spent a lot of time on that, despite the hate I had for the class. It was an empty graveyard under the moon which had a few quotes I adored written around it. I tried my best to incorporate writing into my projects since it would be the only thing that kept me sane.

"Where is it?" She speaks quietly to her herself, disregarding my voice of concern as she continues digging. Finally, she releases the poor bag and hurries to my desk. At this point I have stood from my place in bed, slightly afraid of my mother.

She slams the drawers open and closed until she meets the middle compartment. Suddenly the light in my head has switched on and I rush to get to it first. 

"Stop!" I shout, not worrying about upsetting my mother in this moment. I tried to push her hands out of the way but it was no use. She already had a hold of the handles and had pulled the drawer out. My eyes barely get a glimpse of my notebook before she snatches it from its place. She clutches it close to her chest, making an anxious feeling arise in mine.

"What are you doing?" I question suddenly, not knowing where my voice had come from. She turns to face me with a blank expression. My notebook lays between her arms, quietly calling for me instead. The cover was a faint purple and had pencil scribbles tattered on it. Its pages slightly torn from where I had flipped through them so many times. 

My breath hitches in my throat when my mother goes to open it. I want to launch myself at her and rip the book from her hands I did not recognize. Then, she begins to read a poem out loud.

"Words older than time itself,

telling ones they 'love' about feelings felt,

torn from the expectations,

giving into sinful temptations,

never once a family home,

just these four walls I roam."

My stomach dropped. My heart broke. My body froze. I wrote that poem after my dad left. I remember thinking about what Mason had said to me. About the words I almost threw away. Instead of giving up on writing, I took his advice and learned how to write better. 

Now I'm suddenly wishing I had forgotten all about his damn advice. 

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(Just wanna say please don't steal that poem cause I actually wrote that ;) )