Guarding

1- Chapter One

"Most of our wounds heal, leaving nothing behind but a scar. But some of them don't. Some wounds we carry with us everywhere and though the cut's long gone, the pain still lingers."

~Meredith Grey

Chapter One

My mum shouts up at me, her voice muffled by the closed door. I lie on my bed, my head buried under the pillow. When it gets too stuffy, I resurface and lie on my back instead, facing the ceiling.  The underlying anger brings uninvited tears to my eyes and when they fall I wipe them away. I'm not little anymore. I don't want to be treated like I am.

I pull myself off my bed and stand in the middle of my room, looking around. My walls are a light shade of peach and only big enough to fit my bed, a small wardrobe, a desk and a set of drawers. I want my sister's old room since no one uses it anymore, but my mum doesn't want anything to be removed from there - the memories.

My hand reaches out for my teddies on my shelf and I throw them into the bin. One by one. My hand pulls my drawers open and grabs the girly notepads and the felt pens. One by one, they go into the bin. My hand then flings the wardrobe open and pulls out dresses that I've had since I was eight. They, too, go into the bin.

Still filled with despair and desperation, I throw everything I can into the bin. It's full now, but I still can't seem to get rid of the childish things. The things that are stopping me from growing up. All my life I've been treated like a child and up until I was thirteen it was bearable, but now, three years later, I'm treated no differently. You probably hear a lot of teenagers complaining they are not allowed to go out or their mum won't give them money. Well, I guess you're hearing it again.

The reason for my moody rambling and even moodier actions is that my mum told me I couldn't go to London with a few friends for a week. London is not that far away and I know what things I should and shouldn't be doing. Maddie and Alex, who are not dating but are obviously in love, and Steph and Dylan, who are also in love but are dating. They're my friends. Well, the closest I have to friends. I guess I'm just a tag, someone desperate not to sit alone at lunch and be part of a friendship group.

After letting out a final scream of frustration, I lie back on my bed facing the empty ceiling, thinking about my life. 

Two light knocks on my door.

"Can I come in, love?"

It's my mum. She's always the first to soften up when we argue. I guess I don't take after her, but I would never say I take after my dad. That would be worse.

When I don't reply, she comes into my room and sits on the edge of my bed. I turn to face the wall next to my bed instead. Her hand lightly pats my back. "I'm sorry, love. I just can't let you go. It's dangerous and plus I don't like those friends of yours. Maddie and the others -" My head turns a little so our eyes meet.

"You tell me to make friends and when I do you tell me you don't like them. Well, wait for another week mum, I'll just ditch these ones and find some new ones in the shop." I make sure the tone of my voice isn't too harsh, but you can still recognise the sarcasm in it. 

"I didn't mean it like that, love. I just mean that they're not the kind I trust. I trust you, I just don't trust them."

I prop myself up on my elbows. "But I can make my own decisions, mum. I won't do what they do." 

"Mmm." My side of the argument doesn't sound very convincing to her.

"I'm a responsible adult now," I say to back up my case.

"Not until you're eighteen your not."

"I might not be eighteen but I'm still responsible."

"Yes, but to me you're still a -"