She padded silently through the lone streets of London on her bare feet. She knew it was coming, and that there was absolutely nothing she could do about it. Apart from saving her beloved daughter first.
I woke with a sigh. Another day was upon me. Another whole day of wonder. Wondering what it would have been like to have known her. To have loved her. To have spent Christmas' and birthdays with her. To have been a part of her life. But destiny decided that could nor would ever happen. And that's what my life was doomed to be. A never ending pit of helpless wonder. Forever.
I am a shy person, who has lived their whole life in fear of the times which are foreign, unknown, because it is those times that you really gain perspective – you can look at your life from a different point of view. So there I was, standing by the front door, anxiously nibbling my finger nails, about to embark on one of these unpleasant experiences.
Other people thrive in unfamiliar situations; make the most of new and exciting opportunities. I just feel uncomfortable, like I’m not really supposed to be in the picture. I’ve always felt like an outsider, right from the day that I was forced to interact with others my age all those years ago. Now it was coming back round. I could imagine it now – people would say ‘how are you?’ and ‘what have you been up to?’, and I would reply ‘fine, thanks’ and ‘not much’ with as much fake enthusiasm as I could stand. I preferred much my own company to that of my peers. I always have. I am an only child with no company and my only family is my adoptive father. I’ve always felt like there was no-one I could relate to, that I could talk to, within my family. I hardly even had a family. For this, I’ve always had to sort myself out, constantly battling with my better and worse parts, with my conscience the only one to guide me. After a while, I got used to the loneliness. It was my only friend for quite some time. All my life, I’ve felt miserable, because I never had a mother to support me.
Stop being pathetic, I thought. I edged the door open – still not quite sure whether I was ready to face normality, despite what I might try and tell myself, again, after weeks of being cooped up in a house with a man who didn’t pay much attention to me, and a single obsessive thought creeping up and leeching off me at every given opportunity.
I dragged my feet along the sodden grass, making my way. My feet squelched as they left gaping holes. When I eventually arrived, it was nothing like I expected. I suppose everyone had enough of the dreary weather which had somewhat ruined their summer holidays. Or they were just so happy about being back at school.
I darted in between various people until I reached the massive oak tree that is core in our school logo, and trained my eyes on Jess waiting for me in our usual spot.
I walked quickly to school, not wasting time. When I got to the field and saw Jess, I was OK. At least I would be too preoccupied chattering away to my best friend to think, to wonder, about my Mother.
"Hey, Cass. Mrs Little is on the warpath again. Apparently some kide decided to nick her sheets for our lesson and well, the culprit's remained anonymous. Has she taken in our books? I haven't got mine." The conversation continued in this rushed, chatty manner for several minutes, until she noticed my saddened mood.
"Ur, Cass, are you OK?" she said quickly, still remaining ever subtle about the sensitive case of my absent Mum. Now I am thinking about her again. Once I start imagining, I usually can't stop. It's the only connection I have left with her, and I hang onto it with everything in my power.
I'd always imagined her with my green eyes and brown curly hair, but I expect that she is much prettier. Hah. I bet there isn't a person alive that is possibly uglier than me. In fact, I bet that there isn't a person prettier in the entire world than my Mother.