Caleb

Chapter 13

                I nodded. I did want to know.

                “What happened to you is nothing compared to my story, let me tell you. You were just lonely and you’re learning to get over that. I can never be cured from what happened to me. I have to live with it for the rest of my life.”

                What she told me shocked me to my very core.

                It wasn’t very long after I left our old primary school. I moved houses and to a closer school, it made sense at the time. I wish I could’ve stayed and been able to get to know you more, but that’s beside the point.

                Mum and dad wanted to go to visit our family in Manchester for the Christmas holidays. I didn’t want to go, I told her I wanted to try and make new friends at my new school. If I was away for all the holidays they would forget that I’d even joined their class and I’d be a stranger all over again come January. But she insisted that she hadn’t seen her sister in such a long time, so we were going. That was that.

                On the day we were to set off, I refused to pack my clothes and sat in the corner of my room sulking. Mum packed for me, not even bothering to fold my dresses, just shoving them into the suitcase. She was mad at me, of course, but I was even madder at her so I didn’t care.

                My suitcase was in the car. Mum and dad were waiting for me but I refused to move. In the end, dad came to my hiding place and picked me up in his arms. I screamed, kicked and cried but it didn’t work. I was going to Manchester for Christmas.

                We were driving along the motorway, when I stupidly decided to start crying and screaming again. I was upset, and young, so you’d think I could forgive myself, right? Dad took his eyes off the road, turning around to shout at me to be quiet and that’s when it happened. He lost control of the car, and we collided with a truck and the central barrier. They told me that my mum and dad died instantly and that it was a miracle I was still alive.

                I was only in hospital for a couple of days, with minor bruises and scrapes. I was inconsolable; I kept blaming myself for what happened. I still do. If I hadn’t had been such a spoilt brat they would still be here. I went to live with my relatives in Manchester for a few years, but my aunt hated me. She couldn’t forgive me for what happened, so when I was old enough I decided to run away. I came back here and have lived here ever since, working two jobs and somehow managing to go to school. Its ok, though, someone very kind allows me to live with her. She’s very understanding with my situation and understands that I give her all the money I have.

                At the end of her story she was crying heavily.

                “It’s ok, Stephanie, you did nothing wrong. I learned that recently, too, and it’s hard to accept, I know it is but you were too young to know any different.”

                “Don’t you think I’ve told myself that a million times? No matter what I think it was still my fault.”

                “If it was your fault, you’d be in jail, yet here you are. After all this is over, I’ve got someone I’d like you to meet. You’ll think differently after you’ve met him, trust me.” She ignored my words, crying silently into her tissue.

                “We’re here,” said the officer driving the car. With Stephanie telling her story, I had forgotten why we were in the back of a police car. I braced myself for what was about to happen and got out of the car. Stephanie followed me, still not talking.