I Tasted Freedom, I Wish I Hadn't

Wiping the slate clean

The morning was cold and the grass was white from early frost. I looked over expecting to see Jordyn, drunkenly gazing over at the trees, but he wasn't. Next to me, on the floor, was a note in his handwriting reading "Gone to get some water, brb x" In the distance there was a faint echo of sirens.
Hesitantly, I ran towards them through the tree's, there were four police cars and an ambulance. Right in the centre of the chaos was a very limp body lying, flat on the road, Jordyn's. That same day I gathered my things and the note and returned to my home in Ohio. The memory of it all was still extremely raw in my already broken my, in that moment I'd never felt more alone in my life.
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After a week of isolating myself in my stuffy, cramped room, finally I went downstairs into the kitchen whilst Mum was cooking and said "Jordyn's dead" in a hollow, detached voice that wasn't even my own anymore.
I turned around and walked into the living room; Mum followed after me sheepishly. When she sat next to me her body language showed ­­­­that she felt awkward and uncomfortable. Mum had always been thin, small and fragile but besides me she looked like a child, I was tall, slim and scrawny, but I was a lot taller than Mum. Gently she pulled my head down onto her shoulder and hugged me whilst, at last, I wept. Suddenly, all my guards were down, everything that I had built up to keep people out just faded away. I didn't care in that moment, I was weak, I think because of that, Mum saw how broken I really was. An 'I'm fine' couldn't con her this time. She was going to take action.