Decisions

When Kayla decides to move in with her mum, leaving her Dad behind, she thinks it's going to be just like the old days. Determined to have a better life, she sets off, wanting to start over. But once she's met Pierre, her Mum's new boyfriend, she realises it will never be the same again...

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10. The Door

That night, I didn't sleep well at all. I kept tossing and turning, thinking about where Pierre could've put the dress. He wouldn't have actually put it in the bin. It's probably hiding in his house somewhere. But then I hear the news from Mum, and maybe, just maybe, that's a good thing...

I trudge downstairs the next morning, like all the other ones. I seat myself at the breakfast table with a bowl of cereal, as of my daily routine, but when I look up, only Mum is sitting there. No Pierre. At first, I think of this as peculiar - Pierre is always sitting there giving me some sort of look - but then I remember this isn't his house anyway, he's probably at his own.

"Where's Pierre?" I ask anyway.

"Missing him already?" My Mum chuckles, and I give her an annoyed glare, "He's just over at his house. Now that we're getting married, I think it's time for him to move in again. He's just packing." I guess I should have known this was going to happen at some point, and my plan is that if he's moving in, the dress will have to be somewhere around here, meaning he won't be mad at me for long. But then I think over the words Mum has just said. I think it's time for him to move in again. I think it's time for him to move in again. I think it's time for him to move in again. Again? I thought they were just 'boyfriend and girlfriend'. They've lived together?

"Again?" I stutter, "I thought he's never lived here before?" She stares at me with her perfect rounded blue eyes; long eyelashes; big pupils. Maybe it was wrong to ask her, but I ought to know anyway.

"Oh...um...well..." She starts off, but before she can finish, her eyes are streaming with tears. I've never seen my Mum cry. Never. I guess I wouldn't have, seeing as I've been living with my father for so long, but it's always a shock when you see an adult cry, isn't it?

"Mum..." I reassure her, "It's okay." I hug her tight, letting her teardrops seep down into my T-Shirt. Why  would she be so upset when I bring up her and Pierre living together? Wouldn't that be a good thing? Anyhow, I put all the questions to rest, and decide to just leave her in peace. I lead her over to the sofa where I lay her down with a blanket. I grab a coffee mug and make her a hot chocolate, a swirl of whipped cream on top. When I hand it to to her, she tells me the most unusual thing.

"Don't tell Pierre about this, or ask him anything," she sobs, and I listen to her every word. I want to ask her why; I want to ask her why she's so upset; I want to find out everything that's going on, but then I hear the front door unlock, and I slip away upstairs, leaving Mum to confront Pierre on her own.

I sit on the top step, waiting to hear what they're going to say. I know I shouldn't be - I shouldn't be listening in on them - but it's so tempting, when I know they're keeping the biggest secrets from me. All I can hear are footsteps at first, and then just deadly silence. It must have been about 10 minutes before one of them spoke.

"Does she know?" Pierre whispers softly. Know what?

I hear my mother's wimpers, and then she cries out, "No Pierre, but I can't keep it from her any longer. She should know about Aimee. It's important." Who's Aimee? I think to myself. Probably one of my mother's friends, or one of my childhood playmates, but why would they play such a big part in this? It's just getting more confusing by the minute.

"Yeah. I'm surprised she hasn't opened the door at the end of the corridor yet, and found out." Pierre says in reply. My heart starts to beat faster, as I creep along the corridor. I've always wondered what that door leads to, and nows the time to find out. I take one step after another, getting  closer and closer to what I don't know, yet willing to find out. I reach my shaking arm out, my hand brushing against the door handle. A rush of excitement fulfils me, but nevertheless, I'm scared. What could be behind there? Would it really be that bad? I take a deep breath, hand closing around the handle, and with one twist, it's open.

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