Who I am {Phil Lester}

chapter 20.

***VERY MUCH TRIGGER WARNING IN THIS***

A/N: Hi, hello, how are you all? Sorry for being completely absent from updating but I've been a lazy ass (sorry again)

***VERY MUCH TRIGGER WARNING IN THIS****

KIM'S POV;

Funny how in a matter of weeks depression can creep up on you. Funny how the silent, graceful flickering candle can topple over and set fire to everything around it, the fierce roaring flame eliminating and scolding all things in its path. It's like a gigantic wave of saddness crashing down on you without any warning, soaking you from head to toe and leaving a bitter taste in the air.

It reminded me of life before PJ. Life before I had to wanted to make an effort. Life when all I did was throw alcohol down my throat in an attempt to block out any emotion I may feel. Whether it be happy, as all good things come to an end one time or another, or sad.

Restlessly, I drifted in an out of a light doze. Glistening stars hung above in the midnight blue sky like tiny lanterns peeping in through the curtainless window. Carelessly I stumbled out of the creaky bed and in a cloudy daze, wandered about the apartment which was noticeably strewn with litter I'd neglected to pick up.

I'd neglected PJ. For the past 2 weeks I've been avoiding his calls, his texts and, just plainly, him. I'd avoided Indie too. I'd avoided everyone I've ever known and kept to myself. Mostly, I've stayed in bed..until now.

I traipsed, with unusually heavy feet, through into the sitting room and stood, swaying in a unusually drunk manor, in front of the unusually tall and empty book shelf. Only a few pathetic measly books lay, laced with thick dust, on the shelves. To Kill A Mockingbird, Little Women and Alice in Wonderland. 3 all time plain and mediocre classics. Apart from the bulging folder which stood at the very bottom of the shelves, practically on the floor.

I edged my way down to a crouching position, my knees cracking as they hadn't bent so much in what seemed like years. Carefully. I plucked the jam packed folder out and carried the heavy load onto my lap where it landed with a thud. Wisps of dust flew out from underneath and hovered about under the moonlight.

Cautiously, I flipped the pages to a random place. A maple leaf slipped out and fell crisply onto my knee. Pinching the stem of the crinkly dried up leaf and gently spinning it between my thumb and forefinger I scanned through the page covered in tiny scrawny drawings from when I was about 8 and took a trip to Canada with my family; my mum, my sister (Samantha) and me.

I examined closely at a drawing of two girls with what looked like wings, flying above a sea. Two free girls.

Freedom.

That's all Samantha and I had dreamt of that holiday. Not being cooped up, stuck inside with people telling you where to go, how to dress and how to behave. That's when little Kim started to become rebellious. Rebelling against the confined cages, her and her sister were trapped in. Only, Samantha stayed within the lines. Only, Samantha wanted to please her parents and stayed inside the cage which, as the days went by, became more and more like home.

When I turned 16 I ran away from home. I didn't look back. I didn't plan it. It just kind of happened.

*FLASHBACK*

"Kimberly, show me your leg."

"No, it doesn't mean anything. Anyway why should it matter? It's my body it's my choice, it doesn't affect you in the slightest!"