Moving to America

Chapter 22

"I think I might just go back to my room now," I shake.

I don't wait to hear what Clara says. I storm up the stairs, slam my door and perch on the end of my bed. Alex is right. I understand that he made a mistake because I hurt his pride and that mistake led to him weakening his relationship with Clara. I feel sorry for him, he wasn't to know how much that hurt.

I text Sarah: Bad day

I get up and pace around my room, stopping at the window to take in the view. A boy and his Dad were walking along the street laughing. Apart from that the street sat as silent as ever. You wouldn't know children lived here.

I rip a piece of paper out of one of my abandoned school books and scribble, I understand why you did it. I forgive you. Then I take the short walk to Alex's room and slide it under his door. I turn around and walk back to my room.

Nothing was ever going to fix my problem. I was fat. Eating less isn't fixing it and eating more certainly won't. Rob wouldn't miss me. Mum wouldn't miss me. Dad wouldn't miss me. Alex wouldn't miss me. Harry wouldn't remember me. Luke wouldn't miss me. Clara wouldn't miss me. 

I ran a hand through my hair, what is the point of life? What am I supposed to do? What is this all for?

Who actually would miss me? The answer stares at me and I curse. Sarah. She would get over it right? I mean she is coping right now and we aren't even on the same continent. 

I told them I liked life. And I do. I just don't like me. Come on. Be strong. For once in your life be strong. You have your whole life ahead of you. Think about what you could achieve. Sarah. Think about Sarah. I burst out crying. Sarah. I would break her heart. Clara. She would care right? Mum. She would be alone with Rob, I can't do that to her. Harry. He is too young to know what grief is. Luke. He would remember. Alex. He would think that it's all his fault.

"Sarah. Clara. Mum. Harry. Luke. Alex. Sarah. Clara. Mum. Harry. Luke. Alex." I recited, rocking back and forth. 

I called out, "help."

No one came.

"Help," I screamed, "help, help, help," until it was no more than a whisper.

The door burst open and there stood Alex panting as if he had just run the whole way here. He looked around, searching. He looks straight at me. My tear stained face and trembling body staring back at him.

"Amelie. What happened? Are you ok?" Alex's voice is full of worry, it practically drips out of him with each word.

"No," I cry.

Alex lifts me off the floor and lies me down on the bed, he covers me with a blanket and hands me a packet of tissues. It feels so familiar, so safe that I stopped crying. 

"I hate you," I smile weakly.

"Oh yeah, well that's not what your note said," Alex grins back.

"It's your fault."

"Well thanks."

"I almost died. I almost died. I almost killed myself" I panic.

Alex looks at me in shock for a second before jumping up, "I need to get Mum."

I don't say anything. I just lie there. I'm strong. It's okay now. I will get through this.

Clara bursts through the door in a similar fashion to Alex and lies next to me, "I thought you were going to pass on suicide" Clara jokes.

"Technically I did," I point out.

"Time for pancakes?"

"How about a bowl of oatmeal?" 

The second that she leaves I turn to Alex, "thank you."

Alex just nods in reply and turns to walk out but stops at the door frame, "I'm sorry."

"There is nothing to be sorry for."

"Yeah, yeah there is."