Daddy's Little Darlings
Make-up
I always walk, wherever I go. I never go in Dad's car.
It's not because I can't trust him behind the wheel* I can't , anyway*. It is because my father's car is the car that killed my boyfriend.
Okay, so maybe my dad just happened to be speeding down the road as Jake was walking to my house. Maybe he didn't really see him step out onto the road, texting me to say he had jellybabies. That's what everybody else thought. Not me.
Thomas Burton killed Jake Curry.
I was worried when Jake didn't turn up. He is very good at time-keeping, and I'm just paranoid. I looked out of the window every five seconds, thinking the impossible, especially as the ambulence went past. Mum was checking for Dad too. I didn't add it up.
I went out to look for Jake after fifteen minutes, and found my dad's car, my dad and Jake, all in the middle of the road. That's when I added it up. When it was too late.
Jake died in hospital, and Dad didn't. I wish it had been the other way round.
Jake hadn't told anybody that Dad hated him. His parents and sister thought it was coinsidence.
I had to go to grief counselling, take anti-depressents. I became anti-social, hostil, hollow, cold. I didn't talk . My friends abandoned me after many months of thinly-streched patience and dead-eyed anallicises. I started bunking off to go to Jake's grave, to talk to him, and I got moved schools. A fresh start, that's what Dad said. Or threatened.I took him too seriously. I got off the drugs, stopped seeing the counseller. I put on a new face, all the time knowing Jake would be scorning me. I hid any traces of depression, never told anybody that one day when I was bunking off, I climbed to the top of a building and walked to the edge. I heard Jake's voice then, loud and clear, telling me that I wasn't the Reilly he loved. That brought me back. Only just, but it brought me back. It took me forward, in my mind. It was like I applyed make-up, a new mask to hide everything underneath. Sometimes though, I slipped up. My make-up went smudgy or sometimes came off.
Jake's dead, and nothing can bring him back.
But I have Noel. I hardly know him, but it feels as though I've known him my whole life.
- Again, it's short-sorry! Oh, and Jake is based on my friend, so he inherited his last name, too-
It's not because I can't trust him behind the wheel* I can't , anyway*. It is because my father's car is the car that killed my boyfriend.
Okay, so maybe my dad just happened to be speeding down the road as Jake was walking to my house. Maybe he didn't really see him step out onto the road, texting me to say he had jellybabies. That's what everybody else thought. Not me.
Thomas Burton killed Jake Curry.
I was worried when Jake didn't turn up. He is very good at time-keeping, and I'm just paranoid. I looked out of the window every five seconds, thinking the impossible, especially as the ambulence went past. Mum was checking for Dad too. I didn't add it up.
I went out to look for Jake after fifteen minutes, and found my dad's car, my dad and Jake, all in the middle of the road. That's when I added it up. When it was too late.
Jake died in hospital, and Dad didn't. I wish it had been the other way round.
Jake hadn't told anybody that Dad hated him. His parents and sister thought it was coinsidence.
I had to go to grief counselling, take anti-depressents. I became anti-social, hostil, hollow, cold. I didn't talk . My friends abandoned me after many months of thinly-streched patience and dead-eyed anallicises. I started bunking off to go to Jake's grave, to talk to him, and I got moved schools. A fresh start, that's what Dad said. Or threatened.I took him too seriously. I got off the drugs, stopped seeing the counseller. I put on a new face, all the time knowing Jake would be scorning me. I hid any traces of depression, never told anybody that one day when I was bunking off, I climbed to the top of a building and walked to the edge. I heard Jake's voice then, loud and clear, telling me that I wasn't the Reilly he loved. That brought me back. Only just, but it brought me back. It took me forward, in my mind. It was like I applyed make-up, a new mask to hide everything underneath. Sometimes though, I slipped up. My make-up went smudgy or sometimes came off.
Jake's dead, and nothing can bring him back.
But I have Noel. I hardly know him, but it feels as though I've known him my whole life.
- Again, it's short-sorry! Oh, and Jake is based on my friend, so he inherited his last name, too-