My counsellor told me to document what I’ve been through. So I’m writing this letter, this letter that is to no one in particular. Not that that matters. Having something to do is better than sitting around all day. Before I begin, I know that everyone I mention deserves their own personal apology, so I will just say it once for everyone. I’m sorry.
Let me start from the beginning. When I was 11 years old, my Mum died. Everyone says that if one of their parents were to die, they wouldn’t want it to be sudden. They would want to have time to say good bye. But those people don’t know anything. Those people still have both of their parents. I had to watch my Mother deteriorate for two years.
When she died, it was just me and my brother, Evan. Well, my Dad was technically there, but you would never know. He moped around the flat for six months straight, barely able to get out of bed. Evan and I would have done that too, but we were too concerned about Dad. Finally, one day Dad snapped out of his trance. Not that he ever really recovered. But I doubt any of us will really.
He pushed us into the living room and got us to sit down. Before I go any further, I should tell you that I am prone to outbursts. I never can contain overwhelming feelings. That’s because I am very emotional, like my Mother’s side of the family whereas Evan is like Dad and very good at hiding his true feelings.
“I have some big news!” Dad said with a sparkle in his eyes. Evan and I shuffled in our seats. “We are moving to California!” Evan eyed Dad suspiciously. “Do you mean California as in America?” Evan’s not the sharpest tool in the box. Dad’s smile faded at our reactions. Evan was still looking around the room, waiting for his question to be answered.
I stared at Dad. I mean, what was he thinking? London was our home! I knew it was coming. Right on schedule was an outburst. I can contain these mean words if I breathe deeply and try to stay calm, but this time it was no use. I was mad. “Moving half way across the world won’t change the fact that Mum died, Dad!” I screeched at him.
Dad looked startled and Evan rolled his eyes. Evan almost always knew when I would say something. I think maybe that time he let me scream what he was thinking. Dad just frowned and said, “We are moving, no matter what you yell.” His words were full of venom, and I could tell he wasn’t pleased with me.
I’ve been in California for three and a half years, and I’ve been in a juvenile delinquent center for two weeks. I’d love to tell you more, but it will have to wait until tomorrow. This is about the fifth time Miss Carly has told me its lights off, and I don’t want to push my luck any longer.
© Copyright 2016 thatdorkygal. All rights reserved.
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