A Hurting Heart

Chapter One; A Hurting Heart

I leaned my head against my window, the ice-cold of the glass almost making me pull away. The glass was foggy; everything outside was just a blur of colour. I pulled my jumper over my hand and rubbed the fog away.

The sun was hiding; the sky a complete layer of nasty, grey clouds. It wasn’t raining yet, but it wouldn’t be long. A thick layer of fog hung in front of everything, making my backyard look unnervingly eerie.

It all looked . . . sad.

Fitting, I thought miserably. Sad weather to fit my sad mood.

Outside, a figure moving caught my attention. I looked down to find dad walking—almost running—to the shed. He quickly returned with a bundle of boxes in his arms.

My heart sank as I realised what those boxes were for.

“Katie!” My dad’s voice echoed up to me from the stairs. I could hear his feet pounding as he ran up each step.

I pulled my knees to my chest and buried my head into them, trying to make myself invisible. It didn’t work.

“Katie.” My dad burst into my room, breathless. “Pack what’s essential. Some clothes, hairbrush, toiletries—whatever.” He threw the boxes I saw him carrying outside onto my bed. “That means don’t fill these up with magazines and hair straighteners, okay? We’ll come back for that stuff later.”

I turned back to my window, resting my head against the cool glass.

“I’m serious, Katie. We have to leave now and I don’t want to be carrying around dozens of boxes that contain crap. It’ll only be for a few days and then you can get everything else.”

“I’m not going.” I muttered to my window. I said it so quietly that I wasn’t sure he even heard.

“Katie.” Dad’s voice was soft, full of so much pain. “I’m sorry. You have to.”

“You can’t force me!” I exclaimed, turning to look at him. “Mum will look after me!”

“Your mum is sick, Katie; she can’t look after you.”

“Then isn’t that just more of a reason to stay? You’re supposed to love her! Why are you giving up on her?” I asked angrily.

“I’m not giving up on her,” My dad said through gritted teeth. “And I do love her, but right now she’s a danger not just to herself, but to everyone around her. To you, to me, to Jamie. I’ve tried,” Pain etches it’s way on my father’s face, making him look decades older. “I’ve tried to help her, but she needs to try and help herself too. Right now, she’s not doing that.”

“So your leaving her.” I crossed my arms and stared at him, “That’s the same as giving up on her.”

My dad pinched the bride of his nose, breathing deeply. “Just pack your stuff. We’re leaving in ten minutes.” With that he stormed out of my room, leaving me shaking with anger on my window seat.

I pushed myself off of the soft mattress and tiptoed to my Mum’s room. I put my ear to the door, listening to any sign of her being in there. I knew if she was sleeping it wouldn’t be a good idea to wake her. There were no sounds of life in the room, so I gently pushed the door open.

Clothes were strewn over the floor, the bed was unmade, photos of me, mum, dad and Jamie were smashed on the floor. That must’ve been the fighting I’d heard earlier.

I take a step back, closing the door on my way out as to not alert anyone to my being there.

The house feels colder now. Like the cold and the sadness are mingling together to make a storm.