The Love of a Stranger

There's Always An Escape

My dad closed the newspaper after reading enough. I began to think thoroughly, where would the first place a dying person would go? Naturally you would think that it would be a hospital, but somehow I don't think that's where my mother wants to go right now. She'd take it to the death to achieve something which in her case was to end my life, but she doesn't know where I am. I hope. Every decision I make is a risk, a risk I don't know if it's worth taking. The only two people I trust right now is Dan and my dad.

My phone buzzed loudly against the counter, Dan was calling. I wasn't really in the mood to talk to him right now so I ignored it letting it go straight to voice-mail. After a minute it buzzed again, of course it was Dan calling. This time I decided to pick up.

"Hello?"

"Thank God Laura, where are you?"

This seems familiar. Now Dan is finally getting a taste of his own medicine. He now knows how it feels to be walked out on and have them not answer any of your calls, to worry about someone so much but they completely ignore you, it hurts.

"Around." I simply said, I was being so stubborn towards him.

"Well, wherever you are, come home soon. I'll be at the studio all day today so just let yourself in."

"Does this not remind you of anything Dan? Does this not remind you of a specific phone call that you and I recently shared? Or about the fact that you ran away and disappeared for hours and never bothered to tell me where you went or when you would be getting back?"

"Is this what this is about?"

"Yes Dan this is exactly what this is about." I moaned, men can be so ignorant sometimes. I heard him sigh.

"Can we talk about this later? I really need to go..."

"Fine. Just go." And I abruptly hung up, feeling slightly annoyed. I turned round to face my father who was standing with a disappointed look on his face and his arms folded. I shot back a questioning look and he simply replied with a shake of his head.

"What?"

"Usually in a relationship you're supposed to talk to one another as if you love them." he advised. I thought it was a bit hypocritical coming from him, sometimes I think he forgets he's divorced.

"That's a bit hypocritical..."

"Yes, but I don't count, it was your mothers fault, and I don't want you to become your mother." he deadpanned.

"Don't worry, I'm as far away as possible from becoming her." I shot back heading back to my bedroom in a stroppy mood. Just before I closed the door I heard my dad mutter something.

"You're closer than you think."

What was that supposed to mean? I don't even count myself as related to that horrible woman, that selfish, stubborn, ignorant, vile bitch. I could go on, but I'd be here for quite a while. Feeling the anger pulse through my veins I screamed into my pillow. I did anything I could to get rid of this anger that had been bottled up inside me. Now that anger had been worn away, sadness still remained inside me. I was an emotional wreck. I flopped down onto my bed with my face down onto the pillow soaking it with my tears that escaped my eyes. I was worse than what I was when I was stuck with Scott, when my mum shot Jack, when Dan had ran away, I was ten times worse. God, what was wrong with me? And now that I think about it, all my anger that has built up inside me over the past few months had reflected off my mother and I was more like her than I anticipated. I guess her extremely moody genes had been passed down onto me.

I needed help.

After finally calming down and few more rounds of tea, I left my dad's house, gratefully taking the offer from my dad to give me a lift. Like he said for me to do, I let myself in and instantly everything started flooding back to me. The memories were taking an effect on me, both happy and sad causing more emotions to be added to that tornado that stormed my mind. I had made myself trapped within this prison of sentiment and thrown away the key. I had officially diagnosed myself with depression, it was clear to see that from my recent mood swings and suicidal-like thoughts that there was no other explanation.

Heading to kitchen I flicked the kettle on. While waiting for it to boil, I thought about things I could do to distract my mind. When an idea came to mind I looked through every cupboard checking to see if I could bring this idea to life. Baking made me feel weirdly better; the warm satisfying smell of cake, and the sugary, sweet taste of icing as it melts in your mouth.

I experimented with colours, shapes and styles, proud of the image I had designed in my head. The finishing look was a circular shaped cake with chocolate icing, decorated with white fondant swirls on the top. Once cut open you could see the tiny chocolate chips equally spread throughout the vanilla flavoured sponge. Pleased with the finishing look I treated myself to a tiny slither of my creation that went along with my earl grey tea perfectly. I also remembered to write down the recipe so I could remind myself that if I ever have trouble coping with things I had this recipe to rely on.

I spent the rest of the day impatiently waiting for Dan to come home. Over the past hours my mood had gradually changed; from being ignorant and indignant to penitent and apologetic. I didn't know when he was going to come back, but in the time that he wasn't here I spent it figuring out what to say to him, structuring my apology carefully just hoping it would be accepted by him.

Finally that time came. The door opened. I readied myself to see his face once again but it wasn't his face that walked through the door...it was my mother's.