Poetic Sound (On Hold)

Chapter 5 Up Up and Away

(5 Months Later)

The last five months haven't been the same. Instead of staying out late and partying, I laid in bed and stared at the ceiling. A couple of nights were spent with Charlie, but they weren't the same. I ghosted everywhere, speaking very little on the outside but having full-on battles in my head. Wasting my 6 months away didn't seem very luxurious, but nothing was the same anymore. And when I say wasting, I mean wasting.

I haven't told anyone yet, not even Charlie. And that's what I'm here to do today. She hasn't been very happy with my mood recently and I've always blamed it on a test or my Aunt. Anything to keep her from digging further into the endless pit that is me.

So now, I'm kind of worried as I stand outside the front door to her house. Has the door always been this tall?

The doorbell dawned on me, daring me to push it and face Charlie's wrath. I pushed it anyway.

"What are you doing here?" A very unfriendly voice greeted me as the door opened. Charlie wore a scowl like I've never seen and it frightened me to the core. Guilt built up in my chest, weighing me down.

"We need to talk, Char," I said, using her old nickname to hopefully get that terrifying look off her face.

"Come in," she sighed.

I followed her into the kitchen where she grabbed two bowls and filled them with ice cream. Mine with vanilla, hers with cookie dough which she knows is my favorite.

"Jokes on you I enjoy vanilla," I said jokingly, but new york vanilla is my second favorite.

She glanced at me through her eyelashes before staring down into her bowl as she ate.

"I'm leaving America," I finally said while biting the inside of my cheek.

I could hear her shaky breaths as they came and went.

"In a month," I added. She then looked up at me.

"And when did you come to this conclusion?" Her icy glare was back.

"Five months ago, my mother sent me a letter telling me to come home six months from then." Now I was refusing to look at her.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Her voice cracked. A stabbing pain sprung in my chest.

"Because I didn't want to admit it to myself or anyone else." A stream of tears streaked down my face as I looked to see her crying too. "I just don't want to go back there."

Charlie walked around her island table and hugged me tightly and we cried in each other's arms for what may have been hours.

~~~

(1 month later)

"Well, I guess this is goodbye," I said with tears in my eyes. Patricia, Charlie, Chelsea, and Jackson are standing in front of me. Jackson and I never actually got out after that night, but Charlie asked him to join us for a party one night and we've all been close since then.

"Tell your mom we hate her for taking you away from us," Charlie sobbed as she hugged me. Chelsea cried silently behind her and hugged me too. Jackson gave me a bear hug and squeezed the life out of me so he could "keep it here in America."

I gave one last glance at my only family. Some more family than others, Charlie and Chelsea have always been there.

"Have a safe flight," was what I got from Patricia before she turned around and left.

My feet carried me to the escalator where I turned around and watched my friends as I slowly went up and up. Soon they were out of sight and all my confidence was too. Feeling dead, I walked through the sea of busy people and children trying to find their flights and walked into the nearest bathroom.

When I reached the door, I pushed it open and locked the deadbolt into place so no one could come in. All the stalls were empty. I ran into the largest one and collapsed on the floor.

All the pain flooded out. Every feeling I've been trying to avoid came rushing out in tears, loud sobs, and harsh breaths. With all my might, I kicked the bathroom stall door. This did little to help.

My fingers tangled in my hair as I put my head between my knees. There is a reason I haven't been to England in so many years. I used to go there every summer after I turned 7 and moved in with my aunt, but it only pained me more. My mother hated having me there and I never went back after the summer after I turned 9.

A loud pounding came to the door. "Oh my! Oh my! Please open up!" A lady was banging her fist on the other side of the door.

With wobbly legs, I stood and unlocked the door before quickly closing myself in the stall again.

"Ah, thank you!" She did her business, washed her hands, and was out again in a minute.

The reflection in the mirror looked awful. The little makeup that had been applied to my face prior to getting here was now smudged and you could see where tears had fallen.

This is a mess. I'm so torn up about this. And that's what she wants. She wants me to get there and be miserable, but I won't tolerate it. I will not allow her to mess with my feelings any longer.

The words repeated in my head and gave me a new confidence. My makeup was reapplied and looking better than ever as I walked out the bathroom door, through security, and to my flight where I had a first-class seat and ordered a glass of wine. My name is listed as Melony Sonfle, and we all know she is a high class and very powerful lady, so nobody asks my age. Lucky me.