Preface:
“He wants to see you”
My Mum stands at the door. She’s dressed in casual jeans and a T-shirt, with a long coat, still damp from the pathetic excuse for snow falling outside. I almost laugh when I remember the first time she went to visit. She had no clue what to wear, and spent five hours trying on outfit after outfit, putting her hair up and then down, questioning heels or no heels. It took her another six months to get used to it. I’m not completely sure that that’s a good thing. Getting used to it.
I stay silent in the hopes that she’ll leave. To begin with, I thought she understood. I thought she was on my side for once instead of his, but when his first Birthday away hit, she finally cracked. She spent the entirety of our bank holiday talking about it, and all of my birthday away visiting him.
A year on, and at half eleven on My Birthday- The 15th of Agust- she’s all ready to leave. By the time she gets back, my 15th will be gone, she’ll be in a miserable mood, and he’ll have taken yet another birthday from me. I’m sure that my therapist would have something to say to my attitude. She understands why I don’t want to see him, but doesn’t support it. She, and all the others before her think I need closure; that our family needs closure. She tells me I’m lucky he’s alive, that I should be grateful for what I do have. All I can think is that I’m lucky I’m alive.
With my Mum’s understanding side gone, returns the belief that I need to see him. Talk to him. For the past Four months it’s either ‘He wants to see you’ or ‘He misses you’ or ‘He keeps asking for you and I don’t know what to say to him’. To begin with I think she was just lonely. Then she began to feel bad, or rather he made her feel guilty about it all. She believed me, I mean she had to, she was there; she saw it. Eventually she believed us both, the way she saw it fairest. She wanted everything to go back to the way it was before. To go back to before the two hour bus journey trip once a month. Before the therapist bills and the broken family and the nightmares. She just wished that it would all go back to normal so much, that a year after it happened, she believed that it could, and would be fine.That he was normal again. That he had changed.
I sigh and shake my head, trying not to feel guilty. I can feel the familiar lump forming in my throat which settles uncomfortably, waiting for the water works. I swallow had, steady my voice and reply as casually as possible,
“I have work to do. If I get it done with now I’ll be free to hang out with friends when they’ve got back from their holidays.”
I can’t help but let the angry note in my voice, because, well, I am angry. I hear my mother sigh heavily, as though I’m an average stroppy teenager refusing to do her chores. After a minute of standing there making me feel guilty she turns to leave. I can't help but feel hard done by. We have more than enough money and the time to go on holiday, she just doesn't want to leave him. Though she'd never admit it aloud, she feels guilty that I'm with her and he's behind a locked gate.
“I don’t have to go you know. I can not see him for the rest of my life and it won’t be long enough.”
“Stop taking about your Brother like that!”
She snaps. Even my therapist agrees that she’s taken this too far. She’s fed herself so many lies and excuses that she truly believes he wasn’t in the wrong. She makes me feel like the bad person.You know when you're a kid, and the adults drill into your head- don't relatliate, tell an adult so you don't put yourself in the wrong- it's so twisted. I did just that, I told on him, I didn't retaliate, but now my Mum's trying to make ME feel guilty about it? It'a messed up.
“He’s not my Brother. He’s a monster who should be locked up in prison if it wasn’t for….”
I stop. Tears shimmer in her eyes as she grabs her house keys and leaves with a almost undetectable
“Blood runs thicker than water”
Once I’ve heard the door slam, I break down in angry tears and cry myself to sleep.
---------------------------------------
“Cassie”
I mumble and incoherent stream of nothing, clearly meaning go away.
“Cassie. Honey, please wake up. I’m really, really sorry”
I sit up groggily and almost double take when I see my mother and father standing next to my bed. It’s still light outside which means she didn’t even get to the center. She skipped seeing him to be with me. I almost feel happy for the first time since… the incident.
“I’m really sorry sweetie. I know I’ve been pressuring you into this-“
My Dad cuts her off to say,
“We all have. We’re sorry, and for once we’re going to do the right thing and…”
They share a look, I hold my breath waiting for the bad news I know they’re about to deliver. I expected a lot, but nothing as bad as their next few words.
“We didn’t just skip today’s visit for you. We called ahead and they said that there was no need to visit. Your brother’s being released in four weeks time.”
I freeze and my blood runs cold. My heart begin’s to beat at one hundred mile per hour, and my palms go sweaty. I know this is a panic attack, I’ve had too many to count, but I’m not prepared this time.
“He’s coming home.”
Chokes out my Mum, and through my blurring vision I can hear the shake in her voice, and the tears she’s about to cry.
I throw back my duvet, staggering to my feet, dazed and dizzy.
“I… I can’t… I just… I”
I move over to the bin that’s been in my bedroom since I was three years old, and chuck up the miniscule amount of food I’ve consumed in the past 24 hours.
I can hear my Mum sobbing from behind her now, and feel the guilt wash over me like the nausea. I retch again, until my stomach’s empty. I turn to my broken family. My mother sobbing into my fathers chest as he blinks at the ceiling, staying strong. Me, two stone lighter than I was a year ago, a bag of bones, all life gone, trembling by the side of my bin.
“Sweetie. We know this will be hard for you. So we’ve come up with an idea. We spoke to your teachers, and your therapist, and they all agree. You need a change of scenery. We want to move you to another school…”
They share another look
“A private boarding school in Scotland…”
I open my mouth wide, unable to move for the second time in a ten minute window. a boarding school? Leave home? I’m about to vehemently refuse, but then I see an image inside of my head.
A tall, pale boy with Bronze hair and a charming grin wearing grey sweatpants and an old striped long sleeve body hugging top, striding through the front door with his duffle bag for the first time in over a year. I see him hugging my parents, and then looking at me, and my eye sight is obscured with black spots. I black out, hearing my mothers frantic
“Cassie, breath!”
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So... I'm really on a roll today, a chapter of IDB and a new idea? I'm on fire.
So, I don't know if this is something I should carry on with? If you think so then please comment telling me what you think :) I'm thinking of a number between 9 and 11? Can we get there?
Have a great weekend!!!