Bring Me The Horizon

All in this story is fiction. Nothing is taken from reality (except the band of course and their names and looks), but all the concerts are made up and everything that happens is made up. Also I do not own Bring Me The Horizon or any of their work. It is simply just fiction.
Enjoy :)

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5. Why does bad stuff always happen to good people?

Suddenly it all got to be too much. School was getting tougher and I stayed up half the night just to finish an assignment and my grates fell slowly. Also the work at the café was too much for me so I talked with Miranda about only working weekends and if she really needed help.  So with all the extra time I got I often spend the evenings with Alex to make homework and talk about his new crush from school. Apparently Nodger’s friend Gabriel was homosexual too and they had started to text and chat on Facebook. It was quite amusing actually.

 

One evening I came home after a long day of work I found that the lights in the kitchen, of our big Toscana-like house, was still on and my mum and my dad were sitting at the table with coffee and cookies between them. With a frown I went inside and kicked off my black Vans. My mum’s voice sounded thick when she spoke to my dad and his voice had a hint of wariness in it, but he sounded calm. With tired eyes and an urge to run into bed, I decided to stalk into the kitchen.

“Jessie… Honey, we gotta talk” my mum said still with a thick sound to it – as if she had a lump of meat stuffed into her throat. With a short hesitation I simply nodded and sat down at the table across from where they sat. With a tired look I stared at the clock on the stove and saw with regret that the clock was half past 11. Then my dad began talking. His voice was as calm, as always, when he spoke, but it just didn’t really seem to sink into my head. It was like an annoying buss inside my head and it was first when my mum touched my hand that I got back to the surface. “Honey, are you listening?” she asked and she seemed clearer in her voice and deeply concerned. Then my dad’s words seemed to sink in and all I did to respond was simply opening my mouth, but when no sound came out I shut it and got on my feet. Without a word I simply stalked up the stairs and got myself ready to go to bed.

 

Suddenly I woke up, instantly aware that something was wrong. With a flinch I sat up straight and looked at the clock. 08:10. Which day was it?... yesterday had been Thursday so today must be Friday. A flash seemed to strike through me and I jumped out of bed and into clothes. Just black jeans and a hoodie. Then I threw my hair into a ponytail and went downstairs to grab my Vans. From the kitchen table my mum sat staring at me with blank eyes. “Honey… Are you going to school?” with a short nod I stalked out the door and grabbed my bike. I grabbed down into my pocket and realized I had forgotten my iPod, but who cares? I only had my computer and a few books with me, but it all didn’t matter. Within 15 minutes I was at the school and ran towards English. When I entered the room my teacher growled something at me, but I simply sat down in my chair with Alex and Aleens eyes on me.

The day went by slowly and buzzing. In the recess Alex tried to talk to me and he had a huge frown on his head. His voice sounded like my father’s had yesterday.  I sat with a salad and a milkshake in front of me – stirring the straw around in the shake.
“Jessica Helia Parr! Listen to me!” Alex said with an annoyed tone. From fact I knew he only used my full name when he was mad. With a blank look I stared up at him. “What’s wrong with you today? You’re extremely late for school, you walk around like a zombie and when you reply it’s with a shrug or a nod or-“, “my father got cancer…” I answered without hesitation and not caring that I interrupted him. To that, he simply stared at me with huge eyes and an open mouth. He seemed to wanting to say something, but I brushed him off and left the table.

 

The rest of the day I walked around in a daze and I felt reluctant to go home after school. In the end I ended up in front of the café and simply went inside. My hair was damp from the September rain and my clothes wet. The café only contained a few customers and Miranda’s eyes went immediately to me. “What are you doing here Jessica? And in such times like these…” she suddenly remembered that there were others in the room and went to the door to get me. Behind the counter she looked at me with a series gaze and her dark blue eyes were fixed on mine – keeping my look on her. “You need to go home. Your mum is worried SICK about you. Go home and deal with all of this. Okay?” her voice was firm and it made shivers crawl down my spine. I simply nodded and made an attempt to run outside.

 

When I came home I stood out on the pavement staring at our house. The rain was pouring down and my clothes were soaked. I couldn’t quite figure out if I was crying or if it was simply the rain drizzling down my cheeks. My hands hung straight down like sacks of sand on both sides of my body. My hair was sticking to my face and from a distant I could hear a rough sobbing like a child whose favorite toy had been broken. Our once beautiful house looked suddenly old and unfinished. Silently I hated myself for not seeing it. The flaws in my father’s face these past days – the tiredness in his voice. My mother’s sudden running around in both house and garden and the way she had talked to him – tender, caring… the sobbing sounded higher now and more ragged – desperate. What would happen now? What if… what if he… I couldn’t finish the thought and sudden pictures of my childhood passed my mind and right after that; pictures of a new future. The thought stabbed my heart and suddenly my knees hit the pavement. My clothes stuck to my body and I trembled all over. Now the sobbing sounded as if it was coming from inside me and I realized that it was me making the horrible noise of a brokenhearted child.

The front door of my house flew open and running down the front stairs, came my mum. “What are you doing out here girl? You’ll catch yourself a cold!” she said with a deeply worried tone. With a slightly violent grip she ripped me off the pavement and dragged me inside the entryway. Without protesting I let her rip off my wet clothes and when she went to the bathroom to put them into the washing machine I simply waited in the entryway with warm tears on my cheek. When she came she had brought a towel which she wrapped around me and then she pushed me into the kitchen and unto a chair.

“Jessica we need to talk about this!” she said in a firm voice, but under that I could hear the sorrow. She tried to recollect herself while she made coffee and a few sandwiches. When she put them on the table I felt like wrinkling my nose in distaste – the last thing I felt like was to eat. But the coffee was very welcome and as I laid my hands around the cup I realized that I was shivering all over. Then my mum began talking. She told me how they had found out and what kind of talks they had had if… suddenly I found myself blurting out: “How can you talk about stuff like that?! He WON’T die! He’s not gonna die!” and the tears began streaming down my mums cheeks as her head flushed red. In the same moment I almost choked on my words and I began crying myself. She rose from her chair and got behind me to hug me tight.

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