This isn't going to be the type of story that skips all the gory details for the reader's best interest. No. I want you to know everything that happened to me, so you can experience it with me. So you can know what I went through, so you can feel it. I want you to know how I suffered, what I thought in my final moments.
I remember every detail about that night, from what I was wearing to what the weather was like. I had just come in from school, pissed off, as per usual. My day had been crap and I needed to relax and wind down. So I headed upstairs. My room was my sanctuary, the place I went when I wanted to just think and be by myself, which was pretty much all the time.
To say my mum was worried would be an understatement. She constantly checked on me, making sure I wasn't pumping rubbish into my veins or getting absolutely smashed. I never did any of that stuff. I wasn't into the drugs or alcohol scene, it just wasn't me.
I collapsed on my bed and pulled my book out from under my pillow. It was dog eared and the spine was broken from the amount of times I had read it, but nevertheless I was absorbed after reading a few lines. It was my favourite book, about a girl who fell in love with a boy (shocker), but the boy turned out to be a murderer and she had to decide whether or not she could stay with him. A load of other stuff happens in between with a really big twist at the end, it was pretty good.
'Eva, did you have a good day at school?' My mum entered my room, uninvited. I made a show of folding the corner of the page over and heaving a sigh.
'Yes mum. I did. I had a wonderfully fantastic day, thanks for asking.'
Mum wasn't stupid, she understood sarcasm. And right now, the sarcasm in my voice was as clear as anything.
'Darling, I'm sorry okay? I don't know how many more times I can say it before you believe it. You know we had to move. We had to.'
Mum always did this. She always brought up the past and made it seem like it was my fault we were stuck in this hell hole. It would work, for a few seconds, the guilt would come crawling back and I'd consider forgiving her, but then I'd remember what had really happened and how it hadn't been my fault.
'Please close the door on your way out.' My tone was perfectly polite and I went back to my book.
Without another word, my mum left the room.
I tried reading the words on the page, to make sense of them, but they all appeared a jumbled mess; I found my mind wandering. Something I had so desperately tried to avoid ever since I arrived here.
'Thanks mum,' I muttered to myself.
I shut the book, exasperated.
Was it really that impossible to go a day without thinking about that?! Seriously? In a sudden fit of fury, I flung my book as hard as I could at the far wall, where it bounced off and landed on the floor, completely undamaged as though nothing had ever happened.
As quickly as it had come on, the fury soon melted away and I found myself blushing at my childish behavior. I calmly went to retrieve my book and headed downstairs, in attempts to make amends with my mother.
'Mum, I'm sorry.'
There was no answer.
I remember thinking that was particularly unusual, seeing as she hadn't told me she was going out, but then I spied a white square of paper propped up on the kitchen work surface.
Gone round to Aunt Paula's, will be back in about an hour.
I felt the guilt trickle slowly through me as I hadn't had an opportunity to apologize. I would always do this; lash out at my mother, shout at her, argue with her but these fits of fury never lasted long and I always felt guilty afterwards, especially as I begun to remember all the good things my mother had ever done for me.
If I'd had known that that was the last time I would ever see my mother, I would have run to my Aunt Paula's house and told mum how sorry I was, how much I loved her and how I appreciated all the things she did for me. I'd tell her I forgave her for making us move and that I realized it was in my best interest. We'd hug for an eternity, just me and my mother.
Unfortunately, I was not to know such things were going to happen and I carried on about my business as perfectly normal.
I decided I was hungry (probably just boredom) and began rummaging around in the fridge for something. There was hardly anything there though, a tub of butter, some milk, some eggs, a couple of slices of ham and a pack of bacon. Sighing, I dug into my pocket and pulled out the five pound note I had kept and decided I would walk to the shop and buy something from there.
Oh how I regret making that journey. Walking out at nighttime never usually bothered me, if anything I preferred it. I loved to be by myself in the cool darkness, forgetting all of my worries for a few blissful moments. It was my favorite time, the evening. So, I pulled on my jacket without doubt or uncertainty and headed out into the night, something I would very much regret doing later on.