Chapter Five

I follow behind as Housemother Kylie walks briskly down corridors until we leave the  school building and enter Lavender House. Marching up the stairs, she hardly pauses to wait for me trailing back.

She opens the door to her office and I can't believe what I see. He stares back at me, dark bruises hugging under each eye. His face is a pasty shade and unshaven. He's slouching in his chair, baggy clothes enveloping him. Unbrushed hair is piled on his head in a curly mess. Looking carefully, I see a nasty mark almost hidden by his hair. A deep purple stain with dashes of gleaming red in and around it. That's when I notice the bandaged hand he's hiding underneath the desk.  I've never seen him like this. He's that fierce-looking man you never see out of a suit, perfect posture and shining teeth. No, he's a hollow shell of the dad I know.

"Dad?" I ask, it's a silly question really, but he looks so unlike himself that if I squinted, I could convince myself that it was somebody else sitting opposite me. He looks up at me, his eyes unfocussed, as if he can't bear to bring himself into this moment in time, lost in the memories of whatever caused him to end up like this. "Do you need a moment to compose yourself, Mr Peterson?"

He clears his throat, "No, I'm fine thank you."  But anyone can see that he isn't.

"Where's mum?" I ask. He looks at me again, this time as if he's actually seeing me. The longest pause stretches out, it feels like an eternity before he says anything.

"She's gone." He answers.

"What do you mean gone? Gone where?"

"Your mother is dead, Jessica." He says.

No. She can't be. This doesn't make any sense. Blurring around me, the room spins. The walls cave in, engulfing me in their thick arms of plaster. The ceiling crashes down on me too, suffocating me in it's vice grip of reality. I have to get out of here.

Leaping up out of my chair, I run out of the room and don't look back. It's breaktime now, littering the field with clusters of friends. I run blindly, not caring that everyone is gawping at me. I don't wipe the tears off of my face or hide from the intense stares. I run.

My dad calls after me, but I block him out and I run. I run and run. My thoughts eventually soften around the edges as I find my rhythm. Right foot, then left. Right foot, then left. My mum's alive; my mum's dead. My mum's alive; my mum's dead.

She only called me yesterday! What's changed? Nothing - she's still here, they're lying to you. If you call her right now, she will pick up. She will!

"Jess! Jess, stop, please! It's me!" Zack sprints towards me, struggling to match my pace. I stare at him, my sobs heavy and suddenly, I can't breathe. I'm taking breaths, but no air is reaching my lungs. It's like it goes in, but then evaporates before doing any good. I leap into his arms, my body shaking as the adrenalin leaves my body. Zack doesn't say anything, he just rubs my arms and breathes deep breaths with me. I bury my face into his warm shoulder, not even caring about what he must think of me right now. "I- I'm, I'm s- s- sorry." I gulp.

"You have no need to apologise. Are you ok?" He asks, his voice filled with worry.

"Yeah."

"You don't sound it - no offence." He adds.

"My- uh, my mum. She's -" I can't even bring myself to utter that disgusting word. The filthy finality that fills the foul air. Zack sits still, waiting for me to utter that final word. But I can't bring myself to say it - that would make this nightmare real. But it's not. My mum's alive. She is, I know she is!

Instead I wail, "Everyone I love leaves me, Zack!" As I say the words, I know that they're true. I may not have been close to my mum due to her hatred towards me after the incident. But that wasn't her fault, it was mine. Before then, she was so lovely and caring towards me, I can't possibly hate the woman who put my needs above her own day in and day out. She only sent me here because she had to, she couldn't care for me properly after what I'd done - sending me here was for my own good.

"Oh, Jess! I'm not leaving you. Ever. I promise you, ok? And you have Chloe too, all those friends who care for you. You aren't alone."

"I just want my mum!" I howl, trembling like a little baby in his capable arms. I want to stay here forever, but good things never last, do they? Before long, my Housemother and dad slowly approach us.

Dad looks at me like I'm a wild animal ready to pounce on him and feast on his flesh. The look in his eyes shreds me into a million pieces. Normally at a time like this, your father's eyes would fill with sorrow and pity, desperate for things to be different. No, he avoids my eyes, fear and a hint of anger swelling beneath the colours on the surface. He doesn't want to be here with the daughter he wishes he never had.

"Go home." I tell him, hating myself for allowing my voice to crack.

His expression softens a little, thawing around the edges. "You have to come too."

"You can't make me."

"I can and I will. Get your stuff - we're going in thirty minutes whether you like it or not."

"Why should I?"

"Your mother is dead you stupid girl! Now get your stuff or don't. I don't care either way, but you are coming with me!" Face icing over again, he glares at me.

"Fine!" I storm off before the tears find me again.

                                           *

Chloe is in our room when I burst inside, slamming the door open, causing a few photos to crash down onto the floor shattering glass everywhere. Crunching underfoot, shards of glass catch on my school shoes.

"Oh my god. Are you ok?" Chloe wraps her arms around me, filling me with her warmth.

"Aren't you meant to be at school?" I sniff.

"It's break and I forgot my PE kit, so I came back to get it." She gestures to her bag on the floor, "What happened?"

"I have to go." I say, grabbing things out of drawers and stuffing them into my suitcase.

"Woah, woah, woah. Slow down!" Chloe grabs my wrists and looks me dead in the eye.

"I have to!" I tell her, my voice wobbling, "Dad came."

Her face softens, the worry dissipating. It's clear that she thinks that's all by the look on her face. We pack my bag together and she gives me another big hug before I have to go, telling me to call her as soon as I get home.

People stare at me as I trudge along the hall, suitcase in tow. I don't bother saying anything or even acknowledging them, the energy truly drained from my body.

My mum is...dead.