Counting Stars

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN A HOUSE AND A HOME

His hands were suddenly round my arms before I could move, propelling me round and back towards his room.

Before I knew it, the door clicked shut and I was pushed roughly against the wall. Mr Robber Guy loomed over me as I gulped involuntarily.

For a few moments we just stood there, not saying anything, just silently staring at each other.

Finally, he spoke.

"If you ever," he began, his voice low, "try that again, I'll make sure you don't have a home to go back to."

That was his threat?

I almost shrugged.

What people often fail to realise is that there is a very big difference between a house and a home. A house is merely somewhere you live. A bed and a roof over your head. A home is where you really belong - and that can be anywhere in the world. It doesn't even have to be a place. It can be associated with people, or pets, or things. Or memories.

I didn't give a damn if the house burned down, blew up, or just disappeared off the face of the earth one day. It's not like I would be there to blame, anyway.

In my opinion, the place was just a waste of money. It had more than enough room to house twelve people comfortably and still have guests over to stay. And that was my dad's idea of a comfy, homey cottage.

Sometimes - no, all the time - I think my father had more money than he knew what do do with. So he wasted it. He had four other holiday homes in France, Italy, England and Spain.
So it didn't really bother me if anything happened to the house I was currently staying in.

The place I really cared about had been sold, to get rid of the memories.

To get rid of the evidence.

So I almost shrugged. Almost.

But then I thought...when someone wants leverage over you, they want to find a weakness, so they keep digging until they find it. If Mr Robber Guy thought that my house was my weakness, I didn't have to worry about him finding out anything else.

I gasped, trying to feign horror.

"You wouldn't!"

"Try me. See what happens."

"I have all my stuff there! My jewellery, my laptop, TV, my...socks!"

Mr Robber Guy looked slightly thrown.

"Socks?"

I blushed. When my dad was around, I never swore. Instead I said socks, bill or flick.

Unconventional, I know.

But I didn't have time to worry about that.

I had completely forgotten about my pet.