Love kills slowly

Love Kills Slowly Chapter 15 :L

Matt P.O.V.

These were the things that ran through my head whilst I accompanied the stars home. I walked down the road.  I could feel the tears about to surface.  I was a demon on the inside. A monster that came out of my cage every now and then. To lose her would be worse. I would have to control myself. I let myself into the house and turned on all the lights. I felt vulnerable and blind.  It was as if I was stumbling in the dark, looking for the switch. I sighed and went down the corridor, turned left and walked into my room. I walked over to my desk and looked at the photo in the wooden frame. I studied the great big oak tree, and how small I looked, comparing to it. The photo was taken last year.  I seemed so calm and peaceful. What had made me change?

I fell onto the bed and screamed in frustration. I couldn’t figure it out. I doubt I ever will. Tears streamed down my face. I needed to sort myself out. And now. I could hurt someone I loved. Not just bruises. I could damage them. I could feel it inside of me; I had the power to do that, and to do more than I could ever dream of. I thought of Christina, Rae, mum, dad... all those people that I loved. One of them could be next...

For the following two nights, I dreamt of two rocks. There were a few shadows cast over it. There was a loud rumbling noise as one of the rocks was smashed by some unseen force. Then, the shadows watched the second rock crumble. Out of the blue, it was pushed into the ground. Why? What could this ever mean? Something about that dream made it fell horribly real. Why did it repeat itself? The same thing... every time, the exact same vision. It was like a prophecy waiting to be fulfilled.

On Monday morning I got out of bed after another wave of the un-understandable dream, feeling fresh and brand new. I pulled open the curtains and took in a deep breath. Today I would fix myself.  Today I would help myself. It would all be okay.  I got ready, and exchanged my school uniform for a black hoodie and a pair of scruffy, faded blue jeans. I would be skipping school... for something more important. I looked through a copy of the yellow pages and picked out a psychiatrist out of the long list that was in London. I scrambled for a pen and some paper and jotted down the address and the underground station;

12 Downing Lane, London, D9 9AM. Tube station: Kings Cross.

I put the paper into my pocket, dug out my oyster card from my desk draws and hid my school bag under my bed – I wouldn’t want my mum to become suspicious, she should think that I was in school. Oh, school. They would wonder where I was. Fortunately, I had a plan. I picked up the phone and dialled the school’s contact number. The secretary picked up.

“Hello? This is Everday High School.”

“Hello Mrs. Williams.” I choked, trying my best to sound ill.

“Ah, Matt, is that you? What’s wrong?”

“I’m ill. I will not be at school,” I spluttered, “today.”

“Ah, why didn’t your mother phone?” she said, unconvinced by my aweful...-ly good acting.

“She is in bed, and has a sore throat. She can’t speak. Besides, she’s sleeping and I didn’t want to wake her,” I lied confidently. I had this in the bag.

“Of course. I shall inform your teacher,” she said, and with that, put the phone down.

Score. I had done it. I found £20, put it into my pocket and left the house quickly and quietly.  I walked down the road, anxious. All of a sudden, I doubted my plan; I didn’t quite know where I was going, no one knew where I would be, and besides, the psychiatrist mightn’t be a good one. There would be loads of trouble when I returned, too. But then I thought of all the things that couldn’t happen if I didn’t do this, and decided that I was on a role. A cold wind hit me in the face. I stopped, zipped up my hoodie and continued my march to the train station.

I got there after half an hour of straight on walking. I looked around me, and noticed that everyone else wore suits and smart outfits. I was the only one in jeans. It was too late to say that I was going to school. It was 10 am, and it would just be obvious that I was lying through my teeth. I got suspicious looks when I boarded the train to Kings Cross Station. The train was rather full, and all the seats were taken.  I watched people get on and get off. So many people at the same place, but no one spoke to each other. No eye contact, not even a smile. They were too busy reading newspapers, listening to music or staring at the person opposite them.  I saw an elderly woman in one of the seats. I smiled at her, in good heart, but all I got in return was a disapproved glance.  However, when Kings Cross came, I got off, and exited the tube station. I didn’t know where I was . Nothing seemed familiar. Across the road, there was a McDonalds, Boots and a shabby little house with a sign that was so filthy you couldn’t read it. I crossed the road, looking left and right for oncoming traffic. I opened the glass door and walked into McDonalds, deciding that I might as well try and figure out what to do.

The queue wasn’t too long. As I ordered my coffee, I took a glance around me and noticed that people seemed quite rough.  I paid and sat down on one of the empty tables.  Whilst I drank, I watched a woman of around 20 years of age sit opposite me.

“Hello, pretty boy,” she said, winking at me. I was in a state of shock and didn’t say anything. She flashed me a smile and shoved a card into my hand.  I stared at the woman, she had wild dark eyes and dark hair. Her skin was fair and flawless and her lips were blood red.  The young woman wore a skimpy black dress that just about covered her small, slim frame. She pointed her sharp, perfectly manicured red fingernails at me.“You never know...” she trailed off, before leaving. I looked at the card in curiosity.

The woman had been called Minty, and it turned out that she was a prostitue. I crushed the business card and dumped it in my now empty cup. I left the building and went in search of 12 Downing Lane. I walked for what felt like seven hours before I found a road sign that read Downing Lane. I smiled in relief – I had done it! I triumphantly strode past number 10 and then saw the door for number 12. As predicted, there was a sign that verified that it was a psychiatrist. I took a deep breath in and walked inside, not knowing what was in store for me...

NOTE:

Cliff Hanger! Dun Dun DUUNNN.

:D Vote, Comment, Fan, Read for a smiley face and a virtual Hug ((H))

Holidays ! Finally ! Sad thing is that I have Athletics after the holidays, and I hate freaking athletics.

:’(