The one who got away.

Chapter 1

"Hayley !?" I heard my mom call from downstairs
"HAYLEY!?" She reaped
'Does she think I'm dead ?' My subconscious says, sarcasm dripping from her mouth.
I chuckle at my grim thoughts and drag myself out of bed.
We all know that feeling when you leave the warm heat of your soft heaven know as 'your bed' and a gust of cold air flashes you like an electric shock.
This sent shivers scurrying down my back as I shake myself awake.

_____
Heading downstairs a smell of fresh bacon hits me like a punch in the face.
This makes my pace quicken as I head down the stairs, causing me to trip
And
F
A
L
L
All the way down landing with a huge thump.
I roll my eyes getting up and hoping my mother didn't notice
Not just because she would freak out but for my embarrassment
'And stupidity ' my subconscious adds, annoyingly
I pick myself off the floor,rubbing my eyes.
To my luck my mother doesn't hear.
Now I wish she did, my back felt like someone just stabbed me and I now had a limp causing my ankle to slide.
I now had :
A broken(ish) back
A limp
A fractured ankle (sort of)
And
A mad headache .
just my luck..

Walking into the kitchen I see my 48 year old mother cleaning, cooking , washing , scrubbing , laying the table
And so on
I get dizzy watching her scurry across the room , but also because of my traumatic experience on the stairs.

Today was a Monday, the WORST day of every week
But I was counting down each day until Christmas break. Which was 1 week from now .
The thought of relaxing for 3 weeks ,getting presents and my birthday made me giddy.

I sit down at the table , tapping my fingers against the clear glass.
My mother comes closer, holding a plate of fresh eggs,bacon,sausages and toast
"Don't do that Hayley" she croaks before clasping my hands and squeezing my fingers in a reassuring way. As I give her a weak smile. She sets the plate onto the table, carefully, before kissing my forehead.

I eat my breakfast not leaving a single drop and drink my Orange juice. Letting the cold liquid slide down my throat.

'That's what she said'. My subconscious says , making me chuckle once again.
I go upstairs and get dressed , living in America is much better than Britain, no uniform and school at 10:00 is accually amazing.
I grab my schoolbag and rush out my door , leaving my mother behind at the house alone breaks my heart , but I must get good grades and behave to mend hers.
Well....I tried