'Til I Found You - (A Nathan Sykes Love Story)

Chapter 2 - Standing in the Dark

Language... has created the word "loneliness" to express the pain of being alone. And it has created the word ‘solitude’ to express the glory of being alone. ‘Solitude’ is not a word that I would use to describe my status. But being alone means that there is less people in your life to cause you heartache. But as we grow older we get more and more comfortable with being alone, yet we still fear it. Growing up we all imagine getting married, having kids and high end jobs, we never imagine being alone. That’s because as children, everyone around us love and care for us. As a child you’re innocent and unable to care for yourself so other people have to. As we grow older, we gain knowledge and people begin to lose interest in you. They want you to succeed but they know that you will do it alone. Some of us though, can’t do it alone. We have to obtain the use of others to do it. Although one fears of appearing weak, the people around you are you tickets to happiness.

The kitchen clock struck 4am, sending a cacophony of sound around the whole house. Apart from that, the entire house was silent, not even a mouse was stirring. A solitary car would pass the house every now and then, keeping me entertained as I added it to the total amount of cars that had so far passed since I jumped into bed. I stared at the white ceiling, unable to fall asleep. Counting sheep has never helped me sleep in the past and it didn’t work either tonight. I moved to the window seat and pulled back the curtain. The sky was full of stars, each one representing a human being on earth and the dream they held close to their heart. My dream in life was find someone who truly loved me and not someone who told me they loved me because blood bonded us together. They say that blood is thicker than water, but where alcohol is concerned, that is definitely not true. ’12 cars’ I mumbled, following the red tail lights of the car that passed, only visible by the lights.

Slipping on a hoodie and a pair of slippers, I grabbed the torch from under my bed, before tip-toeing down the stairs. As per usual, she was sprawled out on her stomach, lying across the couch, intoxicated. It’s not a nice sight, just seeing your mother lying there not knowing if she’s dead, or just so drunk she can’t stay awake. Empty bottles of vodka, cider and whiskey lined the living room floor, causing my journey in the dark, to get even harder. Only the corner lights were illuminated, causing only half of the room to be visible to the naked eye. Laying the torch down on the table momentarily, I gathered the empty bottles in my hand. They tipped off one another as I tried to juggle as many as possible in both hands. Struggling through the dark kitchen, I managed to find the table, before laying them gently down. The bin was easier to locate with the light on. Opening the bin with the foot pedal, I discovered an empty bottle of sleeping pills. The situation seemed all too familiar; drink until she’s drunk before downing a full bottle of sleeping pills. The first few times I was forced to call for an ambulance but after the fifth or sixth time she began to become immune to their effect although they still made her sleepy.

I felt the bottom of my slippers get wet as I trudged through the wet grass of our backyard. Pulling the hood over my head, I instantly regained some body heat and stopped my hair from getting wet. The grass glistened under the moonlight sky. Birds chirped softly, calling their soul mate. The cricket sang his beautiful song while the rest of the neighbourhood remained quiet in their warm, comfy beds. The music echoed around the village, graduation students obviously enjoying their night.

I ascended the steps and sat down on the cold, damp timber. The rain gently fell around me, trickling down the light material of the roof of the cubby house. Whenever I was sad, I’d come here, think and cry. When I was younger crying always seemed to be the answer. Now that I'm older crying seems to be the only option. I dried my face with the edge of my hoodie, confused as to whether it was the rain or my silent tears.

The lights of the school were visible from where I was sitting. Everyone, including Mollie was there having a good time. I thought she was my best friend. I didn’t even get a text from her asking me why I wasn’t there or if I was alright. Lately she’s become a lot more distant from me. She hardly talked to me and never waited outside class from me anymore. She no longer sat beside me in class or spent time with me at lunch. I was alone without her. The story of my life. She knew something and she wasn’t telling me.