That Girl

I was broken, as broken as shattered glass. I couldn’t compose myself, I couldn’t stop crying, I was no longer crying over the look on my Mums face or because of the argument, I was crying every tear I had held inside for the past nine years. I couldn’t stop and this made me panic, what if I never stopped? I literally felt like I could go on forever. Hauling myself of the ground I managed to stagger over to my bed as I let the rivers flow from my eyes. Flinging myself into the comforting warmth of my bed I craved to be held, to feel save. But who would come to my aid? I’d pushed everyone out and after tonight it was pretty clear I had pushed my own mother so far away that I’d never get her back.

It suddenly hit me that my Mum and Jack were never going to leave me, they weren’t my Dad. I had went through the past nine years hating everyone for something one man did. I hated myself, for the first time in my whole life I felt disgusted with everything I had become, everything I was. I had been so afraid of people walking out on me that I had pushed them out instead. I had metaphorically walked out on them. I had abandoned my family when they needed me, all because I was weak. I wasn’t strong, I wasn’t tough or brave like I had prided myself to be for so many years now, no I was weak, afraid and pathetic which resulted in me being alone. I had to do something, I needed my Mum to know I still had a heart, that I was still her little girl, somewhere inside of me I found the courage I had hidden for so long and flung my legs of my bed. My legs wobbled like jelly with every shaking step I took towards my bedroom door, with every quivering foot step I took down the stairs and crossed the small distance to the dining room where my Mum was still sitting sobbing. She hadn’t moved from that exact spot since I had screamed at her. My heart broke just staring at her which produced even more tears from my already over flowing eyes.

“M-Mummy,” my voice whimpered like a scared little child. My Mums head looked up cautiously as though she didn’t quite believe her ears. I hadn’t addressed her in nine years, this was a shock even to me who had said the word ‘mummy’.

“Ella, love, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you,” she said in a strained voice, barely above a whisper.

“No, I’m sorry, I pushed you away and Jack and I-I,” I broke down collapsing onto one of the wooden chairs and craning my head in hands as I let fresh sobs over take me. I felt a protective and comforting set of arms engulf me and for the first time in nine years I didn’t shrug it off, I didn’t run away, I relaxed into it and cried the tears that had been begging to get out for so long. I was comforted by my Mums gentle voice soothing me, telling me everything would be alright, that I hadn’t lost her, or Jack, that things were going to turn up from here onwards. I felt my eyes getting heavy and the last thing I remember is whispering “I’m scared,” before I drifted of to sleep, in my mothers arms, safe and loved.