A Little Bit Longer

Mia held her breath as she knocked on her front door, knowing it would already be locked. She felt Nick squeeze her hand.
As she predicted, her Mother, Deborah, opened the door, shouting for America, with her Father, Richard, not far behind, shouting at Nick. Had Mia not been already aware of this, she would have probably been crying.

"...You, young lady, aren't going anywhere for a week. What did you think you were doing?" Deborah was never hesitant in dealing out the punishments. She and Nick were now sat nervously on the sofa in the lounge, hand in hand. For the majority of the ten minutes they'd been there, Deborah and Richard had been shouting at them, and reactions from the young lovers hadn't been shown yet.

"It was my idea for Mia to stay later. I guess I lost track of the time." Nick suddenly said, bravely. Mia had been aware of this, too. He knew exactly what he was in for. Deborah gave him a sharp look, then stood from her chair, folding her arms.

"Well. I'll tell you something, young man. You may be an infamous pop star or what ever it is you do, but that doesn't prevent you from getting a telling off when a telling off is due," Deborah told him, a face like thunder. Next to bark at the pair was Richard, as he stood level with his wife.

"And, we aren't going to have this again. Mia, if you're late just one more time, a bigger punishment will be in order. Do you both understand?" Richard demanded. Both Mia and Nick nodded their heads, too intimidated to say anything.

*

In the hall, just as Nick was about to leave, Mia thanked him repeatedly for taking the blame. Her parents weren't the easiest people to own up to.

"I'll see you tomorrow at school, kay?" Nick kissed her on the lips, as his fingers slid in-between hers. He hurriedly pulled away as Deborah passed them in the hall.

"Yeah. Thank you, again." Mia opened the front door for him, whispering as she was aware of her Mother still watching them, "love you." Every time Nick had to leave her, Mia instantly felt alone and isolated from happiness. All she had to do now was shut herself in her room and finish the homework she was behind on.
Her parents weren't the most supportive people in the world. When ever Mia had a problem, she'd either turn to Nick, or if it was something that she couldn't tell Nick, (which was hardly anything,) she'd speak to her Aunt. Aunt Sylvia, but Mia always called her Sylvie. Or when she was little she'd called her 'Silver.'
Do you know what it's like not to feel comfortable in your own home? Like you have to sit properly all the time, like you never were able to have an opinion on anything? Mia Thatcher does.

Just as Mia had sat at her laptop to learn about Isaac Newton, her phone beeped, indicating a message. She knew who it would be from, of course.

Mia. It's Nick. I was snapped coming out of your house. they followed me down the road, all the way past the hill and to mine, and now they're outside my window. they won't leave me alone. anyway, i hope you're ok babe. i'll pick you up tomorrow, so your mum doesn't have to take you. i love you loads. xx

Mia smiled, but a strained one. She knew how Nick hated being followed, but she loved it when he showed his care for her.

okay. thank you. and yeah, i'm fine. love you too. - M.x

She texted back. She slammed her phone down and typed at the laptop instead, as Deborah entered her room, carrying a pile of clean clothes.

"Put this away." she ordered.

And who was Mia to tell her she would do it after she'd finished her homework? Getting up, she felt a surge of hatred echo through her body as she glanced at her mother, who looked perfect in her cream suit and skirt, matching cream heels and her hair in a neat bun. Then she looked down at herself, at her baggy deep pink t-shirt, denim jeans and converse. Her hair was left down and hair sprayed. She was so different to her mother. And her father. Mia had often thought that maybe she'd been swapped at birth, but the similarities between her own nose and her mothers, her own eyes and her fathers, suggested otherwise. Picking the washing up in her arms, Mia stowed it all away in her drawers, still aware of her Mother's cold presence lurking behind her.

"That Nicholas is a nuisance," she said, bluntly, looking at pictures of her daughter and Nick that lined the walls. Oblivious to her comment, Mia continued to follow her Mother's demands.

"And his hair. Why doesn't he do anything with his hair?" Deborah went on, slowly making her way across Mia's light carpet, her heels making imprints as she went. Again, Mia didn't take any notice. For why should she? After all, Deborah's goal was only to make Mia feel hurt.

"I can't see why he's such a world wide heart throb. Look at him, those evil eyes and~"

"His eyes aren't evil. They're beautiful. They're chocolate brown and sometimes I can see my whole future in them. They aren't evil." Mia interrupted, throwing down a pair of jeans she was folding. She simply adored his eyes. Picking the jeans up and beginning to fold them again, she felt the cold presence leave her room.

I don't know why she's like this. I don't know. I don't know why she hates me so much, but loves me in the same weird way. She thinks I'm so clever, so mature, such a darling. But if for one second I put a toe out of line or even make a mistake, she won't let me hear the end of it. And then she'll try make me feel inferior, or something nasty is what she'll do. My Dad just seems to copy her. I secretly think he's scared of her.
- Yes, he's scared of her. Like me.

Mia had kept a diary for as long as she could remember. Ever since Aunt Sylvia had brought her a 'My First Diary' when she was four, it's the only thing Mia had treasured. Apart from her friendships and relationships, that is. She'd record everything, how she'd felt that day, if she'd made an accomplishment. But when she hit the age of twelve, when she started to become more understanding of the world and the people in it, she recorded her feelings.
Shutting the cover and locking it up, she put the diary away in her Keep Safe box. Too tired to work on Isaac Newton now, she pulled the covers of her bed back and laid down, wanting to go to sleep, but not being able to because all she wanted was to feel his arms around her.