Your Promises Don't Mean A Thing

Kylie Winters. Me. I'm cold. I don't trust people easily, I don't trust anyone at all. Apart from my aunt. She took me in after my mum left us. That was years ago. I haven't trusted since. I don't really do much apart from go to school. I don't have any friends. And I like it that way. I like being alone.

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3. Chapter 2

We drove in silence to the highstreet.

I had changed into a pair of jeans, a hoodie and wore my coat on top.

My hands felt a little numb because I didn’t have my gloves with me, and my neck hurt, also due to the exposure to the cold air and bad weather. It wasn’t like the weather was great where we’d come from, either, though.

My aunt cheerfully spoke about how it would be great that I could make new friends, meet new people, make loads of new experiences…

No. I’d stopped paying much attention when she brought up the “friends” thing.

By the time we’d arrived to the shop we were looking for (after navigating through and around the cluster of other shops), a good half-hour had passed. The place was called Bang and had a myriad of different trousers, jumpers, blazers, shirts, ties, tracksuits, aprons and other cool stuff. I was a little overwhelmed; back at our old home, the only uniform shop was a pretty small one for only 3 schools.

I tried on some trousers and shirts, and showed my aunt, as if asking for her approval on them. Once all that was sorted, and we found everything we needed from there, she payed for them and we began making our way to the next shop, and the next, till we reached the end of the list. Then we headed for the supermarket, which was supposedly somewhere close by.

I took a few of the bags from her since they looked heavy. As it turns out, they were, so we went back to the car first to put them away.

I learned another great lesson in life within the next hour; time slows down considerably when grocery shopping.

Grocery shopping is boring. It’s basically, gathering milk, eggs, bread and a filling up a trolley with things you think you’d be better off without. Though, accompanying her is the least I could do after she went out of her way to help me. For everything. But still, a part of me whined. Be quiet, I told it. We stood and waited quietly in the queue at the till. I’d suggested we go to one of the self service ones, but neither of us could be bothered.

It started to rain a little bit. We went to McDonald’s for lunch. I was hungry. So was my aunt. She told me to find us a table while she ordered so I went off to scavenge for empty seats.

There were some upstairs that were vacated, so I took the leisure of sitting at one of them and brought a chair around from another empty table for her to sit on.

We sat and ate in silence, too, once she arrived with a tray. I greedily wolfed down my cheeseburger and fries, then attempted to do the same to my coke, but it was so cold it hurt my teeth and made my mouth numb. So I just sat there.

My aunt looked up at me for a second with some concern, when she’d finished eating. I picked up the tray and emptied it in a bin. I told her I’d meet her back at the car. She agreed, got up and left, while I continued to sip my drink.

* * *

As I walked up to my aunt, she looked at me, her brows furrowed. "Who was that?"

I shrugged, got in the car, saw her worried expression and sighed. "It's fine.”

She laughed. "You know, Kylie, you need to start talking and interacting more with children your age."

"I don't need friends," I said coldly before she could get another word in.

"Alright!" She put her hands up in surrender. If there was one thing I taught her, it was that nothing ever got through to me.

I smiled, then closed the door and put my seatbelt in.

None of us spoke for the rest of the journey; there was nothing to say. At home, I picked up my bags, went to my room, threw them in a corner, then opened a drawer near my bed, and instead of seeing my diary there like usual, I saw an A3 book with loads of pink flowers on the blue hard-back covers. Diary 2010.

I picked it up. My heart almost stopped beating when I realised what it was, my fingers shaking with dread as I struggled to open it.

I didn’t want to remember.

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