I turned my ipod up louder as I heard a car fast approaching behind me. Just hit me, I thought. Just swerve a bit to the left. Of course it didn’t happen though. It never happened. I hitched up my bag that was slung over one shoulder and kicked a pebble on the footpath as I walked home. I frowned at the car, watching it drive off in the distance, which wasn’t good though as I narrowly missed a fairly low branch and I ducked quickly. I ran my fingers through my hair and looked up, noticing as I neared my house, a car in the driveway.
“Fucking bitch.” I murmured, rounding into the driveway and stopping for a moment to bend down and scoop out the mail from the mailbox. I shifted through them as I continued my walk up the driveway, head bent down as I read the names on the front of each envelope when suddenly I came across one with my name on it. That’s weird, I never get mail. I grabbed onto the rail and walked up the steps two by two, getting to the front door and pulling it open. I walked in, closing the door behind me and dropped my bag in my room on my way through. I walked through the hall, staring at the letter and when I finally got to the kitchen, I let the rest of the letters slide across the marble bench top and feverishly tore at the envelope in my hands. I let the small pieces of paper fall gently to the floor as I managed to get out the letter and unfold it in front of my eyes.
“Grace! You’re home.” My mother’s voice was barely audible as my eyes grew wider the more they scanned over the page. There was a deathly silence for the next 30 seconds.
“Grace?” I felt my breathing stop, my body froze and it seems as though for those few moments my mind went blank and my heart stopped beating. I felt my hands scrunch themselves into small fists, the letter going with it and I looked up at my mother.
“I can’t believe you.” I said, with no tone in my voice at all. I was in utter shock, my eyes were probably still open wide and then with a gush of shocking reality they blinked and my heart began to beat again.
“What do you mean?” She asked. I stormed over her way and shoved the letter in her hands.
“/This is what I mean!/” I yelled, then as I saw her smooth out the letter and begin her reading, my hands flew up to my head and I scrunched that into my fists instead. I felt like screaming, I really did. That stupid bitch has gone too far, too fucking far.
“Ah.” She said, I could just heard the smile in her voice.
“Yes. I organized that.”
“No shit.” I spat back at her, spinning on my heel and letting my hands drop to my sides. She grinned at me. Yes. Grinned. I felt like decking her on the spot, how can she smile at me like that when she’s organized me to go to some sort of retarded.. Happy Camp!? I wasn’t depressed, I wasn’t crazy. So why send me? I glared at her, thinking hard about different and more painful ways of killing her.
“It’s this Sunday it starts, so, go pack your things.” She said, still with that fucking grin on her face. I threw her a sarcastic laugh and then stopped abruptly.
“What is it?” I asked quietly, but you could no doubt hear the hissing in my voice as I tried to catch her out with my eyes.
“It’s a camp. For people who basically aren’t as happy as the rest of us, or need help. Those people are generally young adults though, so it’s all good for you.” She said, though in a way that made it look as though she was doing me a favour. I scoffed and my hands flew up in front of me, now I was pissed off.
“/So it’s a rehab for kids?!/” I yelled, aiming all my anger out at her. She nodded and folded up the letter neatly, slipping it in her jacket pocket.
“/I’m not going!/” I shouted, turning around and pacing the kitchen, mainly talking to myself.
“I’m not going, you can’t make me go, it’s for crazy people and I’m not crazy.” I muttered, continuing my pace back and forth across the kitchen. I heard my mother sigh and walk over to me slowly, grabbing my shoulders and turning me so that I could face her. I stared into her eyes, hoping that daggers were protruding into them.
“You need help.” She said, looking me in the eyes and then letting me go, walking off and up the stairs. What a fucking little bitch. I growled and stormed to my room, kicking my bag out of the way and slamming my door shut. I screamed again and pressed the button on my stereo, blasting Marilyn Manson as loud as I could just to plain piss her off. Slumping down onto my bed, my legs hanging over the sides, I held my face in my hands, breathing deeply.
“/You little bitch! Turn it down, fucking selfish piece of-/“
“Get over it!” I yelled, still not opening the door and lying down, picked up a Harry Potter book I was reading and flipped it open to the page I was up to. I hitched my leg up on top of the other and began to read, music blasting, breathing gradually slowing down. After about ten minutes, I felt the book softly topple onto my chest, open on the page I was reading and my eyes gently closed shut. Wondering off out of reality once more.
“/Wake up you lazy piece of shit!/”
“Fuck off.” I mumbled, covering my face more with the blankets on my bed.
“/No. Fucking get up!/” How can she scream like that? Fucking hell. I opened my eyes and blinked a few times, bringing my hand up to wipe at them.
“What time is it?” I yawned. I heard the tapping of her foot as I sat up, rolling the blankets off of my legs and standing up quickly, though stumbling slightly in the process.
“It’s 3 in the afternoon.” She said sternly. Oh fuck, I slept until Saturday?
“You’ve been asleep ever since yesterday afternoon, and now you can catch up on your chores.” She said.
“But I just woke up!” I protested. She shook her head and walked out again, shutting the door behind her.
“I couldn’t care less, just get dressed and come out. I need you to clean the kitchen, the dining room, put on 4 loads of washing..” Her voice faded as she walked away and I stood, gaping at the closed door. God I hate that woman, so I thought I’d piss her off. I walked to my cupboard and got on my tippie-toes as I reached up to pull down my large suitcase. As I got it to the floor, I dragged it to my bed to fill it with clothes and items I might need. A.k.a everything. I frowned as I starting to fold t-shirts and socks up, placing them in the bottom of the case and doing it over and over. I didn’t want to go, but I just realized, I wouldn’t be here, would I?