The Renovation Complication

40. The Full Story

I stayed out for too long.

Chicago isn't a place I want to venture alone by the time nightfall comes around. Especially in a diner located in the shady areas of the suburbs. I hadn't gone far from the hotel, just far enough to sit and drink cheap coffee for a few hours.

And now it's nightfall and I have fourteen missed calls from my mother. She of all people that knows that we both need our space to cool off.

Just like she said, we are a lot alike.

I stand out the front of the hotel as the sky turns orange and the wind picks up. Even the weather wants me to go in and apologise. But for some reason, my body won't allow it.

I shouldn't have gotten so mad, I will tell her, I'm sorry.

I'll go to Annandale if you think that's best.

But I don't think that's best. But I guess that I don't matter in the great scheme of things. I'm just a package that a judge slammed his gavel to say was property of two people, whether I liked it or not.

Dread. Dread is what fills my bare legs as I step onto the property.

What are you so afraid of?

I don't know.

I just know that I don't stop to close the gate into the pool. Stupid thing, the managers designed the motel to be so cramped that you have to walk through the pool area to get anywhere in the place. It's like a courtyard, but... a lot smaller.

My steps click on the pavement as I think about what I could find in our room. Mom will very possibly be in tears, and she will ask me to pretend I haven't seen anything so she won't feel like a sorry excuse for a mother.

My mom is so strong, but sometimes she breaks. Badly.

"Hey," Mason's voice drags my aching mind back to the present. "What happened?" This isn't a demand like Alex's was. Everything he's not saying means so much more than anything he could ever say.

He's not saying that I have a choice. He's not saying that he will understand if I lie, if I pretend that it's nothing. He's not saying that he will listen, no matter what I do say.

"A lot," I chuckle dryly, still choking on tears. I think I feel him smile sadly against my hair.

And he waits. He gives me a minute of silence to decide if I want to tell him or not, still holding me and I'm thankful because I might just unravel without his arms wrapped around me. I'm so confused with what I'm feeling right now.

Everything hurts because of what has happened, but everything is warm because of what is happening and at the same time my entire body just feels numb and tired. I'm so tired of this. I'm so tired of crying and avoiding the topic like the plague.

Haunt me. Drive me mad.

"It's her birthday today. My mom." I whisper and I feel his muscles go a little tense before tightening around me. I definitely can't tell him the entire story of today. If Mason, my hot tempered, terrifying at times, tender next door neighbour found out what Alex said to me...

Things would get messy.

Mason has a habit of letting his temper take over at times. I heard that he once knocked someone unconscious for insulting his hair.

I silently thank God for his said 'No hitting girls' policy, otherwise I would be a dead woman.

"Mason," I say and he hums in response, "I never told you why I'm afraid of pools."

My legs halt before my brain even tells them to. I stop breathing for three counts, confused. What is that?

My eyes scan the pristine, blue water for a reason I don't understand. Not yet, anyway.

I swear I had seen something dark in the illuminated liquid. Something that makes my stomach churn uncontrollably, something that shouldn't be there at all.

It's just someone going for a swim, I reassure my legs, and push for them to continue. But the person in there isn't moving. And neither are my legs.

My throat closes off before I even know what's going on. Air turns into syrup and time turns to dust as I drop down to my waist in the water. I can't even swim - what am I doing?

Every move I make against the pool is deflected as the water fights against my attempts. Whimpers are escaping from my throat as my arms thrash and soak my entire body. But I don't care.

I have to get to her, make sure she's okay.

She's fine, a horrified voice inside of me shouts. But it's lying it's lying lying lying lying

She's not moving. She's face down in the water and her chest isn't moving. Every inch I get closer to her, my whimpers get closer to screams. Everything is a blur of fluorescent cerulean and ceramic bowls shattering into a million black fragments that shouldn't be here.

I don't want the pieces to come together, but it's too late, far too late to go back. I will never go back, my life will never be the same as I drag the body to the edge.

How is it possible to be hyperventilating and holding your breath at the same time? My blood is becoming too thin, my joints locking, my body quivering. My lungs are half filled with water.

I dare to turn the body over. And what I see makes my organs feel like your feet do after wearing soaking wet socks all day and then peeling them off. I'm too soft and too humid and too exposed to be seeing this.

"Help!" I'm not even sure if they're my shrieks or someone else's, but I know they're not hers. "Somebody help!"

I try to perform the little CPR I've seen on TV, but it's too late, too late, too late. Her heart stopped before she had hit the bottom of the pool. I'm not even sure if it's chlorine or tears soaking my clothes anymore.

I hold her cold body in my arms as I shake with sobs and some people gather around us. People try to help, but I'm not letting her go, not ever again. It seems like an eternity is squashed into milliseconds as paramedics pull me away from her too soon.

"No!" My screams are shrill and broken amongst the mutters of the bystanders. I fight pointlessly against the full grown men as they peel my off of the bruised, bloated body. "I take it back!" I'm talking to her, even though she can't hear me. Her ears are filled with chlorine and her heat drowned in her own sorrow. "I take it back, Mom!"

My mother didn't drown in the pool; she was suffocated by her demons.

Police remove everyone from the scene, and speak it hushed tones. But I can hear them clearly.

"She didn't drown, the body shows signs of extreme impact..."

"Investigated the woman's motel room upstairs, open window."

"Suicide,"

"Suicide?"

"Suicide."

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I split this chapter into 2 parts and I have spent almost all day writing it. I was supposed to do 1 hour study, 1 hour writing, and then I spent 3 hours writing these 2 chapters. XD

Shoooooottttt mmmeeee