Reece's Haven

47: Reece

I don't care if I'm being disrespectful. When it comes to Dorothy, I'd do anything.

He looks at me with his jaw clenched, before he sighs, leaning back against his seat.

"She's happy there," he says. "Too happy to come back. Jo and I insisted she should come back, but she just refused."

My hands drop to my sides as I stare at him in disbelief.

"Refused?" I choke out.

Impossible.

She would never refuse to come back. She would never refuse to see me again.

Three years can change a person completely, my thoughts intervene.

Hell no.

"I don't believe you," I say.

Mr. Brace sighs again, pulling out a lighter and a box of cigarettes from the front pocket of his faded jeans. He places a cigarette between his lips and lights the end of it.

"Look kid," he continues, taking a deep breath in, only to emit a puff of smoke. "She's got new friends, and her school is by the countryside. She's happy there, so why would she come back?"

"You-You're lying!" I yell harshly.

Even more annoyed, he shoves me away, catching me off-guard, slams the door shut and drives away.

I stand there alone with stinging eyes and a growing lump in my throat.

She... does... not... want... to... come... back...?

As those words sink in, it becomes more difficult to breathe.

God, it feels as if horror and despair has taken the form of water only to drown me. 

A while later, I find myself inside my house, trudging to my room. Entering it, I sink down to the floor, feeling hollow and... betrayed.

Dorothy Sherman is the only person who matters to me. Seeing her again is what keeps me waking up every morning and getting on with my dull days. If she does not care about me, then...

I have nothing to hold onto in this life.

I look at the teddy bear sitting on my bed. Lukey Wukey is looking right back at me with his beady eyes. He is one of my prized possessions because it was Dorothy's prized possession. Because she gave him to me. Because he is the physical proof of our friendship.

Every night, I fall sleep while hugging him, because it feels like I'm hugging her.

A sudden bang against my door jolts me, compelling me to stand up.

"WHERE IS MY WHISKEY?" the man booms from the other side of my bedroom door.

He rattles the door knob before the door flies open to reveal his round, red face. I look at him with indifference; he does not intimidate me anymore. But I have to 'behave', because mum begged me to never anger him. Angering him leads him to hurting me or mum, but regardless of who he harms, mum ends up getting hurt the most.

"I don't know," I reply calmly.

The shine in his eyes informs me that he is drunk yet again. To be honest, I'd be surprised if he wasn't. He grabs onto the neckline of my school shirt and pulls me close to him roughly. His hot, pungent breath hits my face.

"Oh, I know that you know," he says, gripping onto my shirt until his knuckles whiten. "Where is it?"

"I told you, I don't know," I repeat with an unwavering voice.