Never Seen Anything Quite Like You Too (A The Script Fan-fiction)

10) Reassurance.

My eyes shot open with a rush of adrenaline. What the fuck was that all about? Why was I being compared to a demon and ... Holy shit what about Mother? Is Mother ok? I'd better ring her. I rolled over to check the time. Eight thirty six in the morning. I'd slept in which wasn't like me at all.

I swung my legs out of my bed and threw on an outfit for the day. Jeans and a top. Nothing special for a pathetic woman.

I bolted downstairs and ran into my living room. I'm not in the mood to describe my living room; I'm on a mission: a phone mission.

I hurled myself onto my settee and reached over the arm of the sofa to grasp the house phone. I rang what I hoped was my Mother's house phone. You never know what could of happened in eight months. She could have changed her number for all I know.

"Hello?" My mother's voice came through the receiver.

"Mother!"

"Siena?"

"Yes. It's me. I'm sorry it's been so long," I apologised.

"Who is it?" My Father's voice was to be heard.

"Our daughter," Mother said.

"Last time I checked she wasn't my daughter at all. I disowned her remember? You were the one to say she still needs her family whilst she was off wasting her life without a single care in the world of the implications it will have on her fucking family," Father roared.

I heard a slam of a door and mother's shaky breath.

"Mother are you okay?" I asked.

"Why did you ring Siena?"

"I .. I had a bad dream,"

I mentally punch myself. Of all the stupid things to say I go and say that I had a bad dream. I mean who goes to ring their mother after having no contact whatsoever in the last eight months and says that! She must take me for a fool.

Mother laughed.

"Why are you laughing?" I asked.

"You had a bad dream did you dear?"

"Ok you can stop with the patronising condescending tone,"

"What was it about?"

"You," I said simply.

There was a pause on the phone. A pause that seems to last an eternity. I am scared about what she will say. I know tensing against the shaking of my limbs is useless but I do it instinctively, trying to suppress for a few more moments what I know I cannot. I need to drink in the silence to counteract the fear that threatens to engulf me.

I realise too late that I've misjudged the rapid onset of the shaking, my limbs are no longer taking directions from my mind. As I fall all I can hope for is a soft and quiet impact. I get neither. An involuntary "oof" escapes my lips. Now the silence is my enemy. That noise that would be lost in the daytime will travel far.

"Why would you dream about me. You've been a stranger for eight months Siena," came my mother's reply.

"And are you okay?" Mother asked.

I shakily pulled myself up and onto the sofa.

"I'm fine" I assure her.

"So the dream?" mother asked.

"You died. In the dream, I mean,"

"I died?"

"That's what I said didn't I?"