Chapter 1: The Beginning

I was seventeen when the worst thing imaginable happened to me, it didn’t come as a shock, I knew that it was inevitable and I knew that there was nothing I could do to stop it. She was my best friend, my shelter, my comforter, she picked me up when I fell down and hugged me to make it all better. There were no hugs this time around, nothing to comfort me. She was my mother and despite what Dad said, I didn’t think I’d ever get over her death.

 

My heart hammered so loudly in my chest I was sure everyone could hear its shrill ostinato rhythm. My eyes glazed over so I wasn’t really looking at the scene as they lowered the coffin into the grave. My ears blocked out all the sounds of grave voices and quiet weeping. I tried for the fifteenth time to swallow the stubborn lump in my throat, with no avail. I’d never been to a funeral before, but I was positive I never wanted to go to another ever again.

My dad put his arm around my shoulder and kissed my forehead, he rubbed my arms and forced a smile, I looked away from him as the tears spilt over again. I let my long blonde hair blow across my face and tickle my face, I squeezed my eyes tight shut and a tear trickled down my cheek, I wiped it with my sleeve and took a deep breath as an influx of people came to offer their condolences. I just nodded and tried to pretend I was acting in a play, it was somehow easier that way…

As the crowd disappeared, I was left standing at a bench outside the church; I gazed out in the direction of my mother’s grave.

“I love you, Mum,” I whispered, choked.

Dad was waving cars off a short distance away. I wondered if, like me, he had pretended he was an actor too. I wondered how he was coping. I sat down heavily and let my mind wander for a while. Images of Mum flicked through my mind, like a slideshow of photographs left on automatic. I felt a little detached from them – perhaps an effect of the pretending this wasn’t reality? When I started to long for familiar arms around me, I tore myself away from the memories and stood up. I decided to go for a long walk in the church’s beautiful gardens; the solace and emptiness made me feel like the only person alive on the planet.

 

Dad and I returned home that evening in silence, today had been a trialling day but I was pleased it was over. Dad switched on the TV and flicked through the endless channels as I fetched some crisps and a glass of wine for him. I snuggled into his embrace and tried to turn my attention to the 10 O’clock news, he hadn’t said anything since we’d been home.

“Do you miss her?” I asked him quietly, I felt him take a sharp intake of breath,

“Every minute of everyday,” he whispered, “But we can’t live in the past Ella,”

“I just can’t believe she’s gone,” I said as another tear slid down my cheek, I didn’t wipe it away this time,

“We knew the time was coming, she told us to be strong…remember?” 

“It’s justsohard!” I cried, he kissed my forehead again,

“We can be strong together,” he told me. I looked back towards the TV and tried to immerse myself in the outer world, a world where no one knew my mum had died - a world still normal. The newsreader arranged her papers whilst looking directly into the camera; she began to read from the script,

“And yet again our mischievous Prince James has been photographed in a nightclub in Chelsea, how long will the King tolerate his behaviour? We have a press statement from him now…” the screen cut to King William speaking, “As a King I cannot condole this behaviour, it is disrespectful and erroneous, but as a Father I cannot stop my son from behaving like a normal teenager, boys will be boys…” he smiled and the camera flicked back to the newsreader; she smiled at the King’s comment. “Well we’ve certainly got a dark horse on our case, more news later on. Now over to the weather,”

 “I’m going to bed,” I said getting up slowly,

“You’re not interested in the royal gossip?” my father attempted a joke,

“Not one bit, but the King is right, he should let his son be normal,” I added,

“Princes are far from normal,” my father muttered,

“Anyway,” I said loudly, “night.” I climbed the stairs slowly and fell into my bed, it hadn’t been made since mum died and it didn’t smell right. I buried my head into the pillow and tried to find sleep, instead my mind swirled around in a sea of emptiness. 

The End

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