Chemical Attraction (Student/Teacher Relationship)

Chemical Attraction Chapter 8

Chapter 8

I spent the rest of the day in a gloomy state of depression.

I didn’t go downstairs for tea or dinner and ignored Jo-Jo’s worried and insistent knocks on my door, preferring to dwell on memories of my family. I slept fitfully throughout the long hours of the night, deliberately twisting myself into uncomfortable positions to try and ward off deep sleep and the nightmares that would accompany it. No matter what the doctors had thought; it was impossible for me to move on just like that.

My breathing hitched as I untangled myself from my covers. My room had been growing steadily lighter for the past hour as the pale grey light of dawn seeped through the windows. I was so tired I felt like the walking dead, locked in a constant state of limbo. I was too scared to sleep but too tired to stay properly awake. My limbs trembled with exhaustion as I struggled out of bed and my vision blacked out. Panicking, I grabbed the side of my bed for support and froze until my vision slowly returned in little dots of colour. I slid down onto the floor and rested my head on my legs, waiting for my heartbeat to slow down again.

My thoughts were in complete conflict. Part of me hated myself for constantly dwelling on their death and the other half of me hated the fact that I wished to move on and forget about them. ‘God help you, Phoebe. You’re a complete mess.’ I rebuked myself. That was the only thing I was certain of.

I stayed slumped on the floor by my bed for an intangible period of time until a slight movement brought sharp pins and needles to my feet. My limbs screamed in pain from the tingling as I quickly pulled myself up and hopped around the room, trying not to cry out. Eventually, the burning feeling subsided and I sighed in relief. I gazed around the room for something else to distract me from sleep and my eyes alighted on my little wooden dresser. Making a snap decision, I tentatively crossed over to my dresser and grabbed a photo album I had placed there while unpacking. I crawled back into bed and snuggled deep into my warm duvet. I hesitantly opened up the album and peered at the first photo. It was the first time I had dared to open the album since my family’s death.

The photo was grubby from fingerprints and I carefully wiped away the smears using the corner of my pyjama sleeve. It was quite an old picture, taken three years ago just after a massive snowfall. The whole family had been stuck at home as we were completely snowed in and both the school and nursery were shut. We had decided to go and build a massive snowman in the garden, but we had failed spectacularly.

The photo showed my parents standing behind a huge pile of crumbled snow with mock pride on their face, with me crouched on one side and my little brother kneeling on the other. Jamie’s face was a picture of happiness, with a cheeky little toddler’s grin on his face and his cheeks flushed from the cold. He was wrapped warmly in a puffy coat and was wearing blue Spiderman wellies. His bobble hat was lopsided and he was only wearing one little glove, the other one lying discarded in the garden, only just visible in the photo.

My heart crumbled at the sight and my tears rolled freely down my face, plopping onto the photo with a tiny splash. I wanted to hug him so badly, to squeeze him tightly until he complained and to kiss his cute little nose. I longed to pick him up and dangle him upside down until he screamed with laughter and tickle him to tears. But I never could, ever again. ‘You of all people, Jamie, didn’t deserve to die.’ I thought miserably. ‘You were so young and so innocent!’ I carefully stroked his tiny face in the photo and bent down to kiss it.