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disclaimer: go to aesthetics before reading this chapter or read the note if you read "aesthetics" before this chapter was posted
note: all of the kids leave in the city of Bellmor (fictional place). The rich part of the city is Swyncoast.
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Chase
My mind was woken up by a shrill sound that echoed loudly in my ears. As a response, I rolled my body, still dressed in yesterday's clothes, on top of the duvet, lying on my stomach. Everything around me was blurred for a few brief seconds while that muffled sound was getting louder and louder. Until I felt it. My head ached as if it was on fire. That's when you realize that all the pain and all the feelings will suffocate you one more time. It's when your body is finally capable of feeling it all again, as if you are returning to the surface but the oxygen you inhale is asphyxiating you. And that moment always comes, no amount of whisky can put it off. It was a cycle. All of it. And I was now trapped in it.
After many failed attempts to reach the mobile phone on the bedside table, with my face still crushed in the pillow, I finally managed to answer it and put it on speaker.
"Goodmorning, sunshine!" - a cheerful voice greeted me on the other end of the line. It was her.
"What do you want Camila?" - I grumbled, coughing, with a raspy voice.
"Make sure you don't mess yourself up and still go to school!"
"Hum! And what made you think I'm not capable of waking up on my own and sticking to my schedule?" - I enquired while rubbing my eyes. The sun was so strong today! Who do you want to fool, Chase? You're hungover, that's what it is.
"You crossing the block at 30 kilometers per hour and still hitting the gate of your house!" - I almost forgot she was there. And honestly, it seemed like she was talking so fast that my brain didn't pick up the information until two or three seconds later.
I rubbed a hand over my forehead, trying to relieve the feeling of heaviness that still persisted. My eyes closed involuntarily, all that light was blinding me completely.
"I wasn't driving at 30 kilometers per-"
"Shut up! I'm outside and I have coffee!" - I knew without a doubt that she was rolling her eyes while saying it.
"Fine!" - I gave in.
Camila was my neighbor. She lived across the street. Her father was a lawyer who worked for well-known companies in Bellmor, such as DLough, Damian's father's network of companies, where he handled the legal paperwork. He also worked for my father at Hawekrs Tech. It was probably his contacts with influential men from Swyncoast that led him to come and live here, not because he could afford the living cost on his own. The truth is that behind big names there is always corruption, and DLough in particular is not known for equating the salaries of its employees with the quality of their work, quite the opposite. Although Damian is my best friend, and completely different from his father, I can't deny that Howard De Loughrey is a man with a dirty history. With a big empire, but a tarnished name.
The Van Dorens bought the house opposite when I was five. I remember my mum dragging me there with freshly baked biscuits to welcome them. That and forcing me to be nice to their daughter, Camila. I've met her all my life but we got into different friend groups when we went to high school, mainly because she's one year younger than me. When we were kids we were together all the time. Sometimes I miss those days when everything was easy, when we were innocent and life was all about laughter, fantasy and fighting over stupid things in my backyard. Yes, because Camila Van Doren was a lady of reason, ever since she was a little girl! I kept paying attention to her, from a distance, at the parties and in school, obviously. We still talked, thought. I guess we were "friends", after all. Well, most of the time. We had a love-hate relationship since then but deep down we cared about one another, we were just too stubborn to admit it.
After a quick shower and getting dressed I met her outside.
"We walk to school now?" - I asked while closing the gate which had a dent from last night. I really had to have this fixed before my father got home from his business trip.
"Oh don't tell me you're too rich to walk!" - she answered while holding me a to go coffee cup.
"You're so annoying, you know!"
As the words escaped my mouth, her eyes met mine. I had an honest smile on my face, even though I wanted to seem annoyed. She was hiding a tiny chuckle too, which emphasized her dimples on the left side of her cheek. No matter how much time passed we would always have this. That strange feeling when our gazes met.
"Bagel?" - she asked quickly, cutting off that moment as if she felt intimidated. She always did that: she maintained eye contact for a few seconds and then slipped away as if trying to avoid some feeling.
"Why not!" - I reacted by picking my shoulders, pretending I didn't notice her little habit.
"Great day, ah?" - she said, almost in a whisper, while looking away, as if searching the horizon for the right words to convince me of what everyone else was trying to prove to me.
"Stop with the small talk Camila, I know what you're doing!" - I admitted after taking a bite of the bagel she had offered me seconds ago.
"You know? What's that so?"
"You came here acting all friendly, then you're going to give me a speech about how drinking is bad, not only for my health but how i'm hurting myself and how I should talk with others about it and BLA BLA BLA" - I tried to make it sound like the subject wasn't serious, but it didn't work. Not with Camila. I knew she wouldn't give up.
"Yes, yes I will, because it's the goddamn truth, Chase. It's okay. You don't need to handle it all on your own but you need to accept help! Please, accept help, Chase, accept our help!"
"And why the hell would you care, Camila? Be fucking real!"
"I don't want to see my childhood best friend's name written on a grave, that's why Chase. I would not forgive myself!"
"Well you don't have to worry about that, you won't!"
"You know what? I'm not arguing with you at 7am. Forget it!"
I didn't want to be mean to her, but I was so mad! I was mad at everyone because of how mad I was at myself, in the first place. Because it was true. They were right. All of them. I was so fucked up! I missed my mum. SO MUCH. Every single fucking day. And the memories of her haunted me. All over the house, all over the place. Everything, everything reminded me of her! And it hurted so much. The memories hurted so much that the only way of making that pain go away for a while was drinking.
I couldn't pass the kitchen without seeing it all in my head, almost if I could feel it the second I entered the door: that smell that always announced she was baking cookies and that would spread throughout the whole house and stay until the next morning. After every football match, she would be there, the moment I entered the kitchen running, with the brightest smile on her face to receive me, wearing her blue apron. We would sit and eat the cookies together, celebrating and analyzing every moment of the match, even if she didn't understand most of it. When I got home with an upset face, otherwise, she would know straight away that we hadn't won or that I had been hurted. She wouldn't point it out. She would place the cookies on the table as she did every time, and we would stay there. The comfortable silence would rapidly lead into laughter and a movie in the living room, where I would fall asleep. I wouldn't even remember what had saddened me the night before, when I woke up.
One step into the dining room, I was automatically transported to the Thanksgiving dinners. Mum would cook, the family would come from Ireland. Grandma would point out how fast the kids had grown and everyone would sit around the table and talk for hours. Mum's place was the one next to the fireplace but she almost never used it, she was always standing, bringing food to the table or arranging the flowers, making sure everything was perfect for her favourite day of the year. Then the evening would come. Mum would finally sit for a moment, as dad would insist, and he would propose a toast. Mum would always thank her family, for never letting her down and for supporting her dream, dad, for the pure love and me for being the perfect son, her own words not mine.
Then there was the garden, which was one of the worst parts too! It was full of lillies, her favorite flower! My father would always have the gardener plant them: "Lillies for my Lily" he would say.
But nothing equaled the feeling of standing in front of her studio door. I never went back there after what happened. If there was a place where my mum was more present and alive, it was there, in her happy little space, as she used to say. It was full of paintings and sculptures that she had made over the years: landscape paintings from the family's vacation, family portraits, some self-portraits from her youth and paintings of the house in Ireland, sculptures from the art school days....So many things that we almost owned a museum.
She was also there when she started feeling sick the last time she went to the hospital. She never returned home. She never finished the painting she was working on. And no one else ever had the courage to enter her space.
But what does that matter if it was all gone. We might have the memories but-
she's.... gone.
And I couldn't handle it. I couldn't even say it in my head, let alone out loud, because even the memories hurt, they would comfort and cut deep at the same time: healing scars that would bleed the next second.
I needed help. I knew I needed it but I didn't want to seem weak.
After walking side by side in complete silence, interrupted only by the sound of our footsteps, Camila and I finally entered school. Damian was already there talking with that girl, Emma, Camila's best friend, next to her locker. I really thought that man was into blondies. Well, apparently not! He was telling her something about their deal and surfing classes but I was too worried about other things to try to catch up.
When Emma saw us she immediately ran to Camila into a hug. Damian approached us as well, greeting me.
"Well, I think we should go!" - I said while looking in Damian's direction - "I would tell you I see you tonight but I don't think you're going now that you're against everything!" - I regretted my words the second they came out of my mouth. In fact, there was something inside me that really wanted her to deny what I had just surmised. I knew I was hurting everyone who cared about me, especially Camila, the last person I wanted to cause pain to, and I don't know why I did it, it was inevitable, I just couldn't control it.
"You couldn't be more wrong!" - she replied with an angry look. I sighed in a deep breath as a response.
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I want to apologize in advance for this chapter. I think it is probably the most boring one I've written until now, but I really need Chase's and Camila's povs to happen before the main action. I hope you got to know Chase's character a little better and if by a chance you still liked this chapter, please vote 💌
ily and thank u for reading blind faith <3