Hendrix ✓

20 ★ Cave in

𝕎𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝕎𝕖𝕣𝕖 - 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔻𝕣𝕦𝕞𝕤

"They said you were a mystery

I know you can't fool me

But still, I cave in"

Hendrix POV

I stare out the window of the bus, the landscape flying by in vibrant shades of autumn that I haven't seen in a few weeks at least. Up north, in Virginia, the leaves turn and fall much sooner than they do down south.

I'm anxious, almost trembling. The call I got last night has sent me spiraling out of control. First thing I did was grab a suitcase and shove some clothes in it as fast as humanly possible.

When I heard that my mother was in the hospital, I freaked. I called my boss as I was heading out the door to inform him I might need a few days off since I don't know how long I'll be gone.

At least she's not in the hospital anymore. A kind woman at the ER called me to inform me that my Mama was discharged and to be sure to check in on her. My number is still on her emergency contact information, and they clearly didn't know that I live 12 hours away now.

I have 30 minutes left. The bus is quickly eating up the distance. The long road gets shorter and shorter as I bite my lip and try to focus on the music filling my ears. My iPod is a must for a road trip, and a must to keep me calm.

Too bad Cedric isn't here. He always keeps me calm.

My leg bounces uncontrollably from the suffocating bout of anxiety I'm going through. There are so many thoughts flying through my head. I know she'll be pissed when I show up, there's no doubt about that. She'll wonder how I found out, and what I want. Mama hates being coddled.

I wish she would just let me care for her, it would make everything that much easier.

"Ocean Springs!" The grumpy bus driver yells, the name of my hometown echoing through the rows of carpeted seats. I hurry to collect my things. I almost trip in the process of shoving my purse under my arm, and bustling down the aisle.

I've come this far, I'm not missing my chance. Bus drivers don't tend to have a lot of leniency. Better safe than sorry.

Once I'm off the bus, the heat and humidity hits me head on. I close my eyes and take a deep breath of it. The bus starts up again, rumbling away. I stand here in the hot sun for a moment. Home sweet home.

It's not a long walk home from the bus stop. I'm thankful I packed light, I don't expect this to be a long visit. The longest she'll let me stay is a few days. I know I could be in for a fight if she's in a bad mood.

The grass is turning brown, the leaves just starting to fall. Down here fall is always a little behind. There's already snow in the forecast in Virginia this weekend, and I'm not looking forward to it.

The park is just the same, the trailers are dirty and almost sas. Some are so sunken in they might collapse. They always look drab surrounded by mounds of crap piled in the yards and on the front porches. It's not a pleasant sight, and it's where the stereotype of trailer park people comes from.

I trudge through until I'm at the front door of our home, or what used to be my home. I've lived here since I was 5 years old. Hurricane Katrina ruined our little house on the other side of town, it was barely left standing after that fiasco.