Secrets and Lies

Casey is a teenager with an amazing will to succeed. She is an incredible runner and is determined to enter a marathon. However it is not that easy. Her world is upturned as her friend's life begins to break down and only Casey can help, Casey is madly in love with a man she thinks will never want her and a sad turn of events results in a huge blow. But Casey is still determined to follow her dream...

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12. 4th June 2013

 

Beep! Beep! Beep! My alarm clock caused me to arise from my world of memories into the harsh and horrific life that was reality. I suspected that I wasn’t expected to go to school today, or probably for the rest of the week, but I knew I had to get out of the house and be busy otherwise I would literally go insane. Flashbacks of Hope sleeping and Emma burning and Barry disintegrating and Mum crumbling and Dad withering and Nyx breaking and me imploding; livid with what could have been, what should have been and what never will be, hit me like a avalanche that set my world on fire, again.

My room was a rubbish site. From last night’s episode, it was trashed. Glass sparkled on the carpet, coins lay frowning upon the floor, a pile of dreary yellow rags were crumbled next to the window, my chair slept on its side cradling it’s broken leg in discomfort, beloved paintings sobbed in heap, Niall posters were shredded mercilessly, my entire collection of Rowan Cookson murder mystery novels cowered in the corner, beautiful photos were torn apart and my light bulb was shattered and hanging dangerously tearful from my ceiling. What had I done?

Silently praying, shame devouring my emotions, I got up. My whole body ached as I forced my crippled self to get ready and change. Quivering were my hands that tried helplessly to apply a thick layer of make up to cover all my scars and bags. I ached as I climbed downstairs and I felt empty like a zombie; my cereal tasted like cat litter and my grape juice like urine.

Suddenly thundering erupted the house as Nyx tiptoed into the kitchen; her face gormless, weary and fearful whilst her eyes were stained cherry and lament. She looked like she hadn’t slept but that didn’t surprise me; I was shocked I had. By the way she slammed her bowl on the table without breaking it and eating toast without breaking herself, I knew that she felt the same way I did. We were both going to school (or college).

5 minutes before we were due to leave, a light pita patter thudded softly as Mum appeared as exhausted as us, wearing a dirty canary fluffy dressing gown. “What are you doing? You can’t be thinking about going to school and college? I know you two are strong but I don’t think you are ready after not even a day” she whispered urgently, aspirated and clearly fighting a losing battle.                                                                                                                                                                                  “Mum, we can’t just sit around mourning. We have to keep busy, keep our minds of it. You know that. I am going to college and Casey is going to school. End of. You are not keeping us cooped up in here, the atmosphere is suffocating.” Nyx hissed, sweetly but stubbornly. Mum knew she wasn’t going to change any of our minds and would be wasting breath if she tried. She let us go.

****

The class hustled and bustled as we sat down to start second lesson, Religious Studies. We had already done our exam for this year, but now we were working on the endless bitter war. Every single religious person believes in a superior God of some sort. A god that can change their lives in the click of his fingers, a god that had your whole future planned out for you even before you are born, a god who has power beyond anything we could ever imagine, a god that can make amazing things happen, can help your dreams come true, can heal people and do extraordinary things like miracles and yet can tear your whole life apart with a word, can bring your nightmares alive and make them worst than you ever thought they could be, kill innocent pure people with no reason that you can see even satisfactory, can decide whether you live or die and what horrific things can happen to you. God may have created our unbelievable world, but with it came destruction even beyond his control. So came crimes, and bad, bad people, monsters, unjust happenings and war. Horrible pointless war which God can’t touch because it’s our fault, his children’s fault that things like this happen. But who’s fault is it Hope died? I really don’t know.

“And then, after school, Ethan asked me to go to the cinema with him tomorrow. We are going to watch Before Midnight, a really cool and romantic film. How cool is that? I’m so looking forward to it! But what am I going to wear? …” I let Amaya’s words wash over me; they had no meaning, nothing. She kept talking and talking nattering away about a load of utter rubbish. Like I cared anymore. I tried to focus on my work, trying to block out her chatter, trying to block out my thoughts.

“Casey, are you okay?” she asked about three quarters the way through the lesson, whilst we were meant have nearly finished these questions about Christians’ views on whether War was unjust or not. I really was not okay, I was very far from it but at the moment I was almost coping. Almost. But as soon as the lesson stopped I would be back at the hospital.

“I’m fine, honest. Continue with your story.” I replied with a as near as a smile as I could manage. She took the bait and progressed with her autobiography, not realising at all that my eyes were starting to sting with flaming tears. But Miss Sheeran noticed. I think my Mum had phoned the school to tell them what had happened, so they knew if I acted oddly why I did, and they must have told all of my teachers.

I knew she was dying to say something; her eyes were brimming with pity, sorrow and worry. I had always liked Miss Sheeran; she was sweet, kind, intelligent and dexterous, open-minded but bold, fashionable and pretty. I knew she felt bad for me, and could feel her eleemosynary words though just one look. And yet I didn’t want her condolence, it just made the pain sharper and more intense. Her smile told me she couldn’t understand why I had not told my best friend something so big; and I thought she might have done; she seemed like such an insightful and realizing person that I didn’t know why she couldn’t grasp the hell I was going through and why it would make it that much more real if I spoke about what had had happened.

She let us go a minute early, evidently seeking to talk with me. For once I didn’t want to discuss anything with Miss; it would be unbearable to talk about what she would have brought up. I fled out of the class, running away from everyone, wanting to be alone.

Crash! Books and folders flew everywhere. A man tried desperately to catch them as they fell to the grassy ground outside after being knocked over by no one other than me. Frantically I helped him, picking up lots of school books all decorated with collages of likes and loves. When we finally had everything back in his arms I suddenly realized who this was. With his alluring azure and grass green eyes, stunning deep brown hair and the cutest slightly crooked but flawless smile, who else could it be?

“I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to do that.” I spluttered lamely. He could never find me pulchritudinous. But yet, the twinkle in his eyes told me a completely different hidden story.                                                “That’s ok. No harm done. How are you, Casey? I heard what had happened. We don’t have to talk about it, but I’m here, you know, if you want to.” He asked sweetly, care heavily hinted in his voice. Suddenly I wanted nothing more than to let everything out, to talk to him and watch my pain ebb away a little. I wanted him to take away the dull empty ache. But even he couldn’t do that.

“I’m okay, thank you” I whispered, but tears were already threatening and before I knew it my eyes were swimming in water and my cheeks stained with pain. I didn’t want to do this to him, to put him this situation, but the lachrymals wouldn’t stop falling. Ashamed and deeply mortified, I tried to run away frantically wiping at my flushed drenched face.

 “Casey, wait. I know how you feel, I really do. I have never told anyone this but, well, my sister was stillborn too. It broke my heart seeing her born lifeless, and I still think about her every day. But after a while it gets easier and you learn to live with it. I think you have been very brave, coming into school so soon. Also I am so sorry about what happened with the bully’s; I should have helped, should have realized. So please don’t cry I can’t bear to see you upset and not being able to help” He hammered softly, not realizing what he had just said, and how he shouldn’t have said it. But it made me feel a lot better knowing her cared about me, I had no idea. I could only imagine the agony he went through when he sister was stillborn; it would have been hundred times worse than what I was feeling now. My heart missed a beat, literally, when he said I am brave, and that he couldn’t bear me being upset.

Passing me a tissue, he lingered helplessly; his arm awkwardly just above my shoulder knowing her can’t hug me but wanting to comfort me. “Wow. That must have been really hard. I never knew. It’s not your fault. Thank you, you have helped-” I begin to say, wanting him to know that he made me feel a tiny bit better. But I’m interrupted by thundering footsteps, and someone screaming my name. Amaya.

“Casey? Casey! I heard what had happened. Why didn’t you tell me? I feel so terrible going on and on, when you’re sitting there breaking inside after your cousin has just died. What am I like?” She yelled, slamming  and suffocating me with a hug that I really didn’t want. Her words stung like knifes, making me choke on my tears again. Did she not realise how insensitive she was being. Like I wanted her to shout out the things that I didn’t want to hear because it would only make it more real and painful. At least the person I had just been talking to had a sensitive approach. Furiously I tried to stop the bleed from my eyes and as I looked over to the man he seemed flustered, like he had done something wrong. He hadn’t though; he was just trying to help.

Anger bubbled up inside me, why did Amaya always have to ruin things? She stared at me like I was some kind of mental person, seconds away from having a break down. That just made me even more livid. I certainly didn’t want to talk to her about anything. I ran away. I knew Amaya would want to follow me, but I think she was stopped by someone a lot more understanding than her. He knew that I needed time alone.

How long was I going to feel like this?

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