Runaway Children

3 children, 2 grown-ups, 1 thing they have in common; their urge of running away from their problems.

When those 2 people divided by fame and sorrow meet again their worlds will be turned upside down, bringing back unwanted memories and digging up old graves.

Will Alexa and Louis find a way to cope with the pain of the past or will they forever remain what they are:

Runaway children....

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14. Chapter 14

 

A/N~ I just wanna say writing is something I love doing it's not an obligation I don't owe this to any of you updates come when I'm ready with my chapter and I have it the way I like it.

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My feet reluctantly shuffled towards the blue door of my old house. There it was, the white wreck was still in the same shape it was the day before I collapsed. The blue paint was still peeling off of the windowsills and door, as if it wanted to escape it's miserable wood foundation.

The white bricks were still covered with grey dirt, making them look anything but white. And the ragged hole in the curtain had remained unfixed, clearly visible for anyone who'd dare lay his eyes on the almost haunted house, haunted by my memories.

It felt like time had just stood still. The only thing convincing me I hadn't dreamed the last 5 years of my live was the long grass and weeds that tickled my bare legs softly as I made my way up to the door.

If it wasn't for the dim light shining through one of the translucent windows I would've thought the house was completely deserted.

Softly, I knocked on the rough paint-covered door. The bell was covered by ivy leaves making it impossible to reach, besides the thing was probably broken anyway. After a while, I heard someone pick the lock. The door opened, squeaking like it was about to fall out of its handles.

The sun had already set, the dark turning all shapes and colours blurry, making everything look different than it was in the glorious spell of light.

Just like 'her', my mother, the woman who might as well had left me, as a ten-year old child, in a too fucked up world for a girl my age to live in, the woman I had left with nothing else than her conscious to talk to, turning her crazy in one of the most cruel ways possible.

Time did not treat her well. In the years I wasn't here: her hair had grown and the grey hairs on the top of her head were spreading like an infection, you could almost see them spread by looking at them. The bags under her eyes had grown even soggier and her vale, grey skin only proved that she didn't leave the house a lot.

The dominating smell of liquor that normally hung in the poverty of our house had made place for a strong scent of 'Lipton's English Breakfast tea'. Probably the only pleasant thing about this house.

My 'mom', as I should call her, did not look disgusted or even surprised at my sudden reappearance. Her eyes kept holding there same dull glare, her face the same lifeless expression. As if she had died and her body refused to die with her. An expression that caused me great concern.

Would she still be capable of living in her own house if she'd be insane? Would anyone even notice except from me?

I came to the conclusion that they wouldn't, that judging by everything I had seen no one ever visited my mom, let alone notice her mental condition.

"Oh,", her high voice chirped, "I thought it was someone from the tax-company again. Annoying people that are, annoying people yeah."

The way she repeated her last sentence scared me. It was as if she was echoing the words to herself, convincing her own mind that she could speak.

Maybe it was the dark night-sky messing with my mind, but the woman who stood there it was just like every piece of the human being she used to be was gone. It was different from the spell alcohol had on her, even when she was passed out on the couch she still seemed... human? Like at least then I felt like she could get better one day. I kept hope. But looking at her pale figure in the dark, I knew, I knew it was too late for my mom to come back again. It was all over.

I wanted to run, I wanted to run from her soulless body. The woman who once was my mother. But I knew looking at her again after 5 years I just couldn't. Running was the reason she became who she was now. But I couldn't help it.

"Come in, come in.", she invited me, pushing the door open some more so I could see the old corridor lit up by some candles on the stairs. The small candles did not shine bright enough to reveal how time had taken its toll here, but I didn't need light to know that nothing changed, it was all still the same.

I demanded my feet to walk inside, back to my 'cage' as I would sometimes jokingly call it, back home. My feet tingled when they touched the mahogany wood floor again.

My mom she looked... smaller. She wasn't the majestic figure I once looked up to anymore, nor the viscously ticking time-bomb waiting to explode in my face. She was old, fragile .

The years of my absence seemed like centuries looking in her tired eyes. The house might've remained the same, but my mom for her time just flew by too quickly. Time is a weird thing I guess, it always ticks the same way, but it keeps changing.

"You can go to the livingroom. I'm just gonna pour us some tea and we can catch up, because it's been ages since I last talked to you. You must tell me everything, yeah everything."

I walked toward the cold living room, only guided by the dim light in the hall. A smile planted itself on my face when I saw that nothing changed here either, there were even some old cans still rusting in the corner of the room. But from what I could tell they could've been rats too.

I seemed to sink in the soft brown leather of the couch, when I sat down. My eyes -still adjusting to the dusk- roamed around the room for a moment, only to notice a small frame set on the coffee table, in it was a small brown-haired and a slightly taller brown-haired boy --Louis . I sighed, I guess Doncaster isn't exactly the place to go if you want to escape Louis.

I can't believe she of all people kept that picture and even framed it. I knew that when we were younger my mum and dad loved Louis like he was their own kid. But I thought after what he did to me my mom would at least throw away the pictures of a boy who almost bullied me to dead: Well, at least a sane non-alcoholic mom would do that.

I shook of my thoughts when the couch sunk some more, signalling my mom had sat down with me. Noticing I hadn't said a thing since returning to my home, I tried say something. But what was there to say?

Next to a stranger was sitting, nothing about this woman brought back anything from my past, she of all people did not have the usual smoke of memories surrounding her. Which I should've been glad about, finally released from the burden of my own thoughts. But the only feeling this void brought me was bitterness.

I don't know what I expected, stepping on that threshold again. I guess it was just hope again, hope that that old blue door could send me 12 years back in time.

In my pink sheets, a pearl of sweat glistening on my pale forehead, the only memory I had to that horrible nightmare I thought was my life. a few shatters and that little bit of liquid.

'Wishful thinking' I believe people'd call that.

"So what have you done in those 5 years you weren't here?", my mom shook me out of my thoughts, while handing me one of the perfect landscape embellished cups, filled with a dark steamy liquid I guess could be called tea.

I greedily took my cup and put it to my lips. Not because I actually wanted to taste the 'tea', I just didn't want to answer my mom's piercing question.

The tea had a cheap, tasteless flavour and slightly burned the tip of my tongue, but I really couldn't care less. I was thinking of  what to tell my mom.

There wasn't much to tell, was there?

3 and a half years of clinic, than when I finally got out I lived with my ex-suicidal best friends and a couple of posters of a boy  I hate more than pop music in a dirty London estate apartment. A few crappy jobs at dirty restaurants and pubs, where I'd get fired immediately after the boss realized I wouldn't suck his dick.

"You know a bit of everything, living life..."

Even my own voice sounded completely different in the dark of the old house.

She nodded, her blond hair bounced a bit with the movement of her head. It was silent for a moment, the only sound being our continuous sipping.

"I've missed you.", I suddenly blurted out.

"No, you haven't.", she whispered. Even though her voice was silent, I could still hear the abhorrent pain present in her words. For the first time since I arrived here, she showed a bit of the woman beneath the cold facade of her dull face.

I looked at my mom over the edge of my cup, I didn't glare, I just looked at her in surprise. 

Her grey eyes stared into the dark hall, but I couldn't tell what she was thinking. The cup in her pale hands was slightly trembling, little waves rolled over the black  poison because of those sudden movements. 

I think I saw a tear glistening in the corner of her eyes, but it might have been an illusion of the dark as well. 

"Why did you come, Alexandra?", she questioned, using my full name. I noticed the echo in her words had gone instead there was a clear touch of melancholy in her every movement and word.

"Why does the sun decide to come up every day?", I evaded the question, because I didn't know the answer. 

A smile played with the corners my mum's lips, it gave her an almost wise glow.

Suddenly she pulled a something from under the couch. Like it had been hidden there for when I'd return, like it had been wiating for me.

I immediately recognized the black cover with shaggy corners, the cursive handwriting on the front brought me a small panic attack 'Alexandra Moore' it said. 

I knew what my mom was going to do, but I couldn't stop her I was frozen, my limbs simply refused to follow my orders.

That was the last book containing the memory, it contained every single detail of that night. I had wrote it down between vomiting and wanted to burn it like the others, but when I was done writing the memory in it. It disappeared, I looked for it everywhere, desperate to destroy the last pieces of that memory.

I guess now I finally knew where it went.

"No, please don't.", I begged desperately, when she opened the book. Her inhuman expression returned and I knew my begging wouldn't help.

"Please..."

 

 

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