04 ; Chapter Four

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Song of the chapter is American Oxygen by Rihanna

My throat went dry as I stood still standing in front of the large patio doors as the light from the TV continued to flicker light and shadows around the room. The light in the hall could be seen from under the door, shadows becoming noticeable as someone moved closer to the door. I could hear the footsteps as they attempted to creep around the house undetected but unfortunately for them they were not quiet enough.

Freddie's analysis from earlier came back to me yet again. If Pandora was murdered, does this prove that I'm being watched? Am I next?

Thankfully, I managed to get my feet to start working as I stumbled towards the knife block at the other side of the room and prepared to arm myself. Just as my hand grazed on what I knew to be the largest knife in the block, the door swung open, light flying around the room.

I looked up, mentally preparing myself to go into battle like I was some sort of gladiator.

However, the colour drained from my cheeks when I realised that stood in the door was my bleach blonde mother, sporting a pair of thick black sunglasses along with a faux black fur coat.

Lindsey Lively was elegant in every sense of the world but somehow her presence didn't seem to bring much comfort. Part of me would have preferred for it to have been a machete welding psychopath, hell bent on spilling my guts out onto the kitchen floor.

    "I thought you would be asleep, Vivienne dear," my mother said as she made her way towards me in the dark, her designer heels gently clicking across the tiled floor. When she came to a stop in front of me she reached out uncharacteristically and grabbed me into her arms, the fur coat engulfing me with strands of the synthetic substance being inhaled into my nostrils. I felt like I was being suffocated and I know I should appreciate the fact that she was trying to comfort me, but I didn't feel very comforted. Despite the thickness of the coat, I could still feel the bones in her body jabbing into me at awkward angles and that mixed with the itchy scratchiness of the coat created a very uncomfortable experience.

    "I am so sorry about Pandora, she was always such a lovely girl despite her flaws," she said, her voice barely above a murmur as the fur blocked the sound from getting to my ears. I wanted to laugh at that statement. My mother wouldn't think Pandora was so lovely if she knew what she had said about her golden son. 

She finally released me from her grip and proceeded to stand with a slight pout on her face. Again, this was a very off-putting thing to see. My mum's face didn't move often. In recent years she had spent a lot of my father's hard earned money to ensure that it didn't move. I was half waiting for her to grab a mirror and complain at her new doctor's shoddy job at injecting her with poison.

     "How come you're home? I thought you would only be home from Australia next week?" I asked.

My mum walked over to the kitchen window and turned the cold tap on in preparation to fill the kettle. "We decided to come home early for you, we knew how hard this time would be for you and wanted to be here to support you," she turned around to face me as the kettle boiled in the background, with a tight lipped smile on her face.

    "Thanks," I replied, my voice being drowned out by the noise of the kettle.

I heard the door creaking open again and my dad came into view, "Hello kiddo, how are you doing?"

   "Okay, I suppose."

My dad nodded with a rather pained look on his face as though he realised that effectively asking me if I was okay when my best friend had just died was a bit of a stupid and insensitive thing to do. But at least he realised his mistake.

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