Rest In Peace (sequel to After They Died)

29- Freddie

I stumble out of the room, horrified by her venomous words which still dying me. I did save her, technically, I never lied to her, I just didn't tell her the full truth. It was my father who abused her, not me. Why did I care about her so much before, she's a nasty, vicious, self-centred bitch. I regret ever helping her, I got no thanks for saving her life. I should have left her to rot in the basement along with the skeletons of rats and other rodents. She'd be better off that way anyway.

I head to the hospital cafe where Margaret eats a golden croissant slathered thickly in sticky butter. "Is the young girl alright Freddie?"
"Uh, yeah, much better than yesterday."
"Oh well that's simply wonderful! Are you ready to go home then?"
"Yes and I don't think we'll need to come back again."
"Really, why ever not?"
"Miraculous recovery."
"Oh splendid, I'm sure you're over the moon! Would you like a croissant?"
"No thanks."
"Ok let's get a move on then, I've got a busy day planned for us!"
"I'm sorry but I'm really tired now, can we just go home?"
"Oh yes, of course." She looks offended and a flash of guilt crosses me before I quickly compose myself again.

As I walk past Ellie's room our eyes lock for a split second. Her once azure eyes are now laced with red veins from the endless flow of tears gushing out of her, she's so attention seeking now. Almost immediately, she looks away from me as if it pains her just to see my face, breaking eye contact and she pulls her duvet up and around her bony arms, shivering pathetically. Doctors murmur outside of her door, whispering with concern etched across their normally emotionless faces. I hear snippets of sentences:

"Serious setback..."
"...post traumatic stress disorder..."
"...psychologists..."
"...critical condition..."
"...may not be able to help her."

Is this because of me? No, it can't be, she's just grovelling for sympathy and attention, it's sick. The doctors are wasting their time on her.

"I thought you said..."
"Forget it, ok?"
"Freddie what's wrong?"
"Nothing, it's none of your business just leave me alone!"
"Freddie please..."
"No!"

I had to get out of there, Margaret calls after me, her wailing voice a distant siren blaring monotonously. She's seriously irritating, thinking I'm some perfect kid she can treat as the son she never had. Well, let's be real I'm not perfect or her son and I never will be, even if I did want to be. She's so oblivious to the harsh reality of life, all wrapped up in her cosy cottage where she can bake pastries and sip cups of scalding tea on a crisp winter day. Well there's more to life than cups of flipping tea, Margaret! I don't know how I managed to put up with her and Jeremy for so long, their suffocating affections drowning me in sickening love.

My feet pound on the slippery tarmac and I have no clue as to where I'm going- just away from everyone and everything. The rhythm of my strides is therapeutic, distracting me from my overcrowding thoughts. My lungs gasp for more air and my heart thuds in time. The wind blusters in my face, breathing heavily all over me and I see dark clouds hanging ominously overhead: it's going to rain soon.

Sure enough, drops of rain slap me violently as I run onwards. Splatters of rain hit my face, stinging my eyes and temporarily blinding me. I lope onwards wearily, beginning to feel tired. A dull ache fills my muscles, begging me to rest; I continue running through the streets.

My phone rings and I suddenly remember that it can probably track me right now- I hurl it into a nearby puddle before stamping on it, smashing it into tiny splinters of gleaming glass. Stomping on the inanimate object helps release my ongoing anger, I like the sense of destruction. Huh, maybe I am more like my dad than I realised. I shudder at the atrocity of that awful possibility. Ellie thinks that I am worse than my father but the bad thing is, I'm not sure if I can disagree with her anymore. I'm a monster. A coward who runs away from his problems rather than facing them head on like a hero. I was her hero. Or at least she thought I was.