Clopwyck River (Book One)

Clopwyck River Part 15

Chapter Fifteen

I walk aimlessly. My arms feel normal again and I'm happy to see that the fire hasn't left any scarring. I think that vague positive feeling is happiness, anyway. I eventually come to a stop outside the house, and check my phone once again to find that Jackie has not returned my call, but I've got loads of missed calls from Andrew. Who am I kidding? Jackie doesn't want me back with her. She practically wheel-spun out of Clopwyck the other day. So I'm left with no option. I have nowhere to go. Nowhere apart from where I stand right now.

            I trudge up the driveway and let myself in through the front door, noticing that someone has swept up the smashed glass from earlier. I tiptoe up the stairs hoping my quiet steps make me invisible, but when I reach the top a figure emerges from Elliot's bedroom. I can make out Andrew in the glow from the moon and the night light, holding a sleeping Elliot in his arms.

            "Demi," he whispers, his shoulders falling as he exhales. "Thank God, I was worried sick."

            "Ha-ha." I carry on up the stairs and head towards my bedroom. "That's the funniest thing I've heard all night, Andrew."

            "Don't be like that." His eyebrows fold together in appeal. "This is hard for us too you know, but we are your family. That hasn't changed."

Elliot suddenly whimpers, a three year old's nightmare disturbing his peaceful slumber, and a tiny little crack forms in my steely resolve as I watch him rub his head against Andrews shoulder. Andrew shushes him and strokes his back then looks from his little face back to me, and realisation suddenly cements over that crack as I know what Andrew is going to say before he even says it.

"Elliot's still your family. He's your brother. You've gained a brother here, Demi. Don't turn your back on that."

            Angry that Andrew is using Elliot as a tool in winning back my trust, I slowly walk over to where they stand, the moonlight falling to reveal them in a gentle light so I can make out Andrew's features, but mine are still cast in the shadows. I look at Elliot, his eyes gently closed, now no sign of whatever boogie monster was after him, before I glare at Andrew.

"He's not my brother." The low light hides my tears. "He's a lie."

            "God, Demi! Don't say that. Don't punish him for what's happened. You'll come to terms with all of this. You'll start to understand Daria's reasons for what she did. You need to give her a chance."

            "You mean like she gave me a chance?"

The question hangs in the air, and Andrew can't answer it as there is nothing to say. I walk to my bedroom door, and look back at them as Andrew's silhouette deflates in the darkness. I close the door firmly, lean against it in my un-lit room, and listen to the floorboards as Andrew takes Elliot back to his room.

I turn on the lamp and sit on the side of my bed, staring at nothing, feeling nothing. My eyes start to sting and feel alien in my skull like they're swivelling in the wrong direction. The room seems to move towards me like a special effect in a movie.

I finally move from my statue position, and pull out the framed photo that I shut inside the drawer a week ago and sit with it face down on my lap until I feel enough strength to turn it over and see my Mum smiling at me. I try to look at the image objectively like she's a stranger; but I can't. I thought this woman was my mother. Was she ever going to tell me the truth? What else was she hiding from me? I'll never know.

            That thought, the loneliness, the deceit, the loss, the hate, the everything, can no longer be contained in my wretched body. My shoulders start to shake in anticipation of the impending sorrow, then my hands tremble in my lap as I close my eyes, before I begin sobbing uncontrollably, my face contorting into an ugly, wailing mask.  I crumple sideways on top of my bed, pulling the pillow over my mouth, and clutching the photograph to my chest. I weep myself into an unreachable sleep, crying for my lost mother, and crying for me.