Stay High

"You gonna' be okay, peach?"

Amy Tuller turned her emotionless face towards her sympathetic mother and sheepishly nodded before dropping her head and watching her black nails dry. Lazily flicking her hands in the air, she exhaled a soft breath before moving her fingers up and down, making the paint dry quicker - or at least appear to be doing so. Not only was she lying, she didn't know why she wasn't telling the truth which in turn only made her feel worse.

Being her usual stubborn self, she watched as her disappointed mother quietly crept out of her bedroom, and closed the oak door behind her. Pursing her red lips, she rolled her big blue eyes and stood up to gaze out of her smoky window. Of course her mother smelt the smoke, she just didn't acknowledge it.

Everything had been normal for months. She had been left alone to deal with her own issues and of course it helped. Of course, she should had known better - she would have had to face the reality of what was going to happen sooner or later, but it helped to pretend like she didn't. To ignore pain is to forget it. However, she could see exactly what was to come. It almost presented itself as a perfect painted picture in her head. She could see it and she was terrified. There was no avoiding what she couldn't control. She stopped herself overthinking, she stopped herself having toxic relationships with people she couldn't tolerate and she even changed her choice in clothing. Not to mention the excessive partying and alcohol. It all added up to create a distraction, and a distraction was exactly what she needed.

Standing up from her sofa, Amy turned towards her coatrack, picking out a blue raincoat before sliding it over her shoulders and adjusting her long, red hair. She hadn't worn the coat in a long time, and frowned at the realisation of her wearing it before opening her door and heading downstairs into her kitchen. Picking up her paperwork left on the kitchen breakfast bar, she balled it in her fist before dropping it into the rubbish bin and allowing the lid to drop, echoing throughout the entire house. Rolling her eyes at the extravagant and large home, she sat herself up at one of the tools before adjusting her watch.

"It's six-thirty baby," he mother cooed, standing at the archway of the open planned diner, her fist gripping a glass of dry white wine.

Amy nodded, turning her head to look down, "I'd better leave then."

Her mother dipped her head to the side before wrapping her dressing gown tightly around her and walking over to her daughter, wrapping an arm around her. She felt safe around her mum, even if she was a raging alcoholic. She often left the country un-announced for months at a time, leaving Amy and her little sister.She could do these things though, she was rich and with being rich comes the label of being able to do 'what you want, when you want'.

"I shouldn't have told you before you went out," her mother muttered, looking down and rested her chin on her daughters head.

Amy shook her head, "I'm glad you did mum," she turned to give her a small smile, "I would have found out from Maria else ... then I'd have to talk about it".

Her mother just nodded her head once, pulling away and kissing her softly on the head before making her way into the living room to comfort her little sister whilst she watched the television. Amy hadn't cried, but she wasn't surprised, she never cries. Her despicable grandmother had told her tears were for the weak - it put people in a vulnerable position, and that was the last position she needed. She pondered her thoughts for a short while before slinging her side-bag over her shoulder and heading out into the cold night. It was Mid-June. Mid-June and full of wind and rain, amy found herself slightly smiling at the pathetic fallacy. It had been bright sunshine and humidity before today. Typical bad-news iconography. She hadn't even noticed how far she had walked until she was stood on her best friends doorstep. Reaching up and knocking, she swallowed a lump in her throat and prepared to celebrate her friends birthday in the city.

She should have known that the next morning would be a tonic-blur. Of course she had drank too much, of course she had ended up on the wrong side of her bed, half of her dress on and half of it off. She wasn't surprised, this was how she often found herself after partying until sun rise. She shook her sore head, smiling at the memories from the previous night. Her lungs felt soft, something she often felt after smoking and inhaling whatever substances was thrown at her. It helped numb the pain, and she loved to feel reckless, careless and rebellious.

Amy was good at covering up her emotions. When her best friend had brought his name up, she replied with a one word answer, pushed the hideous intrusive thoughts from her head and doubling her alcohol in-take. However, today she was paying the ultimate prize by dealing with her first hangover as a twenty year old. Her whole life focused around moving on and that's what she planned to do, even if it meant she couldn't be happy. If she could forget she could move on, even if it meant leaving him and her most precious memories behind her.

Sitting up in her queen-sized bed, she pulled her covers up to her chest and stared straight ahead of her. The harsh buzzing of her phone startled her, forcing her to grab the mobile device from her bed-side stand and placing it to her ear.

"H-Hey, Hello?"

There was a long pause, "Ayms?"

Freezing in place, Amy's pupils diluted and her breathing hitched. Staring straight ahead at her window, she dropped her phone. No. Shaking her head from side to side she pursed her lips before scrambling around and ending the unwanted call. No. There was no way he had the guts or heart to finally call her. But Harry was the only person to call her 'Ayms'.

Her heart pounded against her ribcage as she swung her legs around her bed before forcing herself up onto her shaky feet, instantly regretting the idea when she stumbled forwards and gripped onto her nightstand. It wasn't the actual call which had startled her, it was the shock of not checking the caller ID and being met with his voice. His voice that she hadn't heard for nine months.

Her ex-bestfriend, her ex-boyfriends voice.