Bold Bella (Book 4)

Chapter 19:

As soon as I got to the bathroom I the first thing I saw, a razor of all things, which was lying on the vanity, and then I grabbed my toiletries bag. I grabbed everything that was mine and put them into my toiletries bag. I took my time knowing I wouldn’t be able to escape until they all went to bed. After I grabbed everything I needed out of the bathroom which was essentially my toothbrush, toothpaste, hairbrush, razor, moisturiser and my shampoo and conditioner bottles.

Then I moved on to my room and I packed everything. I grabbed any bag I owned and just shoved things into them, I’d be able to grab a suitcase when I stopped by the flat at London. I packed all my clothes into the suitcase I had brought with me and then I stood around my room thinking of what I wanted to take with me. I bit my lip as I considered if I should take my photos. Yes. No. Yes. No. Yes. No. It was too hard to decide. The photos gave me great memories but I knew now that those memories were just an illusion that I believed because I was too much of a moron to believe otherwise.

In the end I packed my photos as a reminder too never believe everything a person says. I’d been cut and hacked at too many times already.

            “What to take? What to take?” I repeated under my breath. I had an unnerving feeling that I was forgetting something. But as I looked around the room I didn’t see anything that I needed to take. I shrugged the feeling off like it was an annoying fly.

My suitcase and the two extra duffle bags I packed with a few things I didn’t want to leave behind were standing ready by the window. My car keys were in my bag and my phone sat on my desk. I wouldn’t be taking it with me and I was going to set up a new phone as soon as I figured out where I was going.

I sat at my desk looking out the window, thinking. Should I buy a new place in London? But I’d still see April at work and there was a very good chance I’d run into everyone else and I didn’t want to see them. I’d be too easy to find in London. I could run into people I know and everyone at work would be all sympathetic about dad and Nate and then they’d worry about April and I. I decided I didn’t want that. So the question was: which city was I off too?

I heard four doors closing and, alert as ever, I got up and started placing my bags on the roof that sat under my window. I threw my suitcase off the roof and into the garden seeing as there were no fragile stuff in it, the suitcase were full of clothes. Then I swung the duffle bags around my neck so they sat at the side of my hip and started climbing down as easily as I did when I was fifteen. When my feet hit the grass I hastily grabbed my suitcase and started trekking to the front of the house where I had my car parked. About halfway there the uneasy feeling that I was forgetting something made itself known again.

And then it hit me. I stopped suddenly before mouthing the F word. I forgot mum and dad’s letters. Too bad they didn’t have one for the situation I was in and I couldn’t speculate what they would’ve said because I can’t remember them at all. But I wanted the letters so I stacked my suitcase and duffel bags right on the edge of the house so they were harder to see from a two story window – unless they stuck their head right out and looked down.

I climbed back up and went through my window asking myself how I could’ve forgotten the box my parents left for me. When I climbed back through the window I took my shoes off so I would be a mouse, swift and silent. I crept to the door that led to the hallway and opened it slowly making sure it wouldn’t creak. I walked slowly to where I knew the attic door was and pressed the spot that meant the ladder would fall down. I made sure it hit the ground softly and quietly and crept up and cringed every time the stairs let out a quiet shriek. I made my way to my chest passing all the things we’d accumulated over the years. The old doll house April and I used to play with. A basket of old soccer balls that Nate stowed away. A box labelled ‘Oly’s baby clothes’. When I reached my chest I opened it and brought out the box, which was the last thing I had of my biological parents. Then I saw a folder. I knew the folder well. It was pink and had Rena Bell written in large writing on the front. Inside were clippings of all the articles my mother had been in that my mum had kept and then given to me. I grabbed that too.