Always Us

Chapter 1 - Who is John?

I raised my trembling hands to my weary eyes, sensing the unwashed mascara crumbling into my grasp like oil pastels. The black streaked down my cheeks, mingling with the unwashed foundation that had fragmented on my face. A deep yawn escaped my lips, resonating in the stillness of the room, accompanied by the distant hum of my neighbours' lawnmower and the faint rumble of cars driving on the nearby bypass. The summer breeze gently infiltrated through the cracked window, offering a fleeting rest from the oppressive heat. Once more, I found myself grappling with the aftermath of a night spent indulging in excess, plagued by the familiar throes of a hangover. I pick up my phone and see a flood of texts and twenty-three missed calls from my boyfriend, Darren.

-

Darren <3

Frid, 11 Jul 2014

9:03pm: Come back, you're overreacting.

Sat, 12 Jul 2014

1:38am

Where are you?

1:39am

You can't just walk out like that.

1:43am

Typical Robyn, always walks away from her problems.

3:08am

PICK UP THE PHONE ROBYN!

8:05am

We need to talk.

-

"Oh fuck" I muttered, struggling to make sense of the texts as I gradually emerged from the depths of slumber.

"Hm?" A dishevelled groan vibrates in my bed. There lying next to me is Danielle, my best friend, her blonde hair peeks up from under my duvet cover and an arm is hanging off the side of the bed.

"Darren's text me, saying we need to have a talk," I sigh, panic rising in my chest as I turn to face Danielle before throwing myself back into the bed, my arms crossed over my face.

"Ah here we go again" Danielle hummed, pulling the duvet back, her hair entangled with her features as she brushed the strands away. "Darren needs to remember he made the decision to be with someone younger, a lot younger" she scoffed.

Danielle was spot on. I had only just turned eighteen, while Darren was twenty-three. We met when I was sixteen at Danielle's cousin's house party. We slept together, and ever since, we have been caught in this vicious cycle of breaking up and making up.

I rolled my eyes and dragged myself out of bed, determined to scrub the crusty makeup off my face. But before I could even reach the sanctuary of my bedroom door, my displeased mother stood stern-faced in the doorway, blocking my path.

"Anything to say, Rob?" she scowled, casting a disapproving glance towards Danielle, who retreated under the covers.

"Mam, I am so sor-"

"Yeah, you ought to be," she interjected sharply. "You and Danielle stumbled in at 5am, the kitchen's a mess, and to top it off, you woke not only me but the neighbours with your dreadful singing."

"Sorry," I murmured, struggling to keep a straight face as I noticed the covers shaking with Danielle's suppressed laughter.

"Sort yourself out," my mother snapped, shooting a pointed look towards the covers concealing Danielle. "And you too, Danielle."

"Sorry, Cheryl," Danielle murmured, peeking out to meet my mother's gaze. My mother shifted her eyes back to mine, her face impassive, before withdrawing into the hallway, her blonde bob disappearing into my parents' bedroom. Danielle and I exchanged amused glances, struggling to contain our laughter.