The Good-For-Nothing Society | Completed

Chapter One

I wake to the sound of the doorbell ringing through the house.

My eyes snap open but I lay completely still. I'm on my stomach, my head turned to the side, my arm stretching above my head. The bell chimes once more and it seems to be deafening in the silence of the night. Everyone knows that a doorbell ringing at this time can only be bad news. 

I hear mum open her bedroom door and make her way downstairs, I grab my phone to check the time. 04:04am. It's not long until the front door lock clanks, and the wood is pulled until it scratches to a halt.

"Mrs Wabrur?"

"Yes?" 

I roll out of bed and walk over to my bedroom window, letting my bare feet skip over the floorboards that I know creak. I pass my mirror, not surprised at the mess of curly brown hair atop my head, nor how serious my blue eyes look. I stand to the side of my window, silently staring down at the police car that has parked outside. There are two men in uniform stood at the door, only illuminated by the moonlight. Our house is shaped like a 'U', giving my bedroom window a perfect view of the scene before me.

"Is it okay if we come in?" the officer to the right asks. 

"Yes, of course." Mum says, ushering them inside. 

I already know why they're here. I know by the way the police are standing, the solemn look on their faces, the pity in their voices. It's the same look mum gave me when Fluffy, my cat, died. It's the look dad gave me when we had a funeral for Fluffy in our garden. The police are passing the same sorrowful glances that my parents threw at each other over my uncontrollable sobbing, whilst we lowered Fluffy into the ground.

I go to my door and lean my ear to the crack, I know better than to open it, it's too loud, the house too old. I don't want to draw attention to myself, I just want to listen. I can hear the policemen murmur to mum, their voices so low it's a struggle to get all the words. 

"It was quick... The paramedics came... died on scene... no one could have done anything... it's tragic... a loss... incredibly sorry."

Then as quickly as they came, they're gone and instead of the door bell, mums sobs fill the air. It feels like hours before I finally go downstairs, and even longer before the words mum utters to me begin to make sense.

Dad is dead.

He died on his way home. A lorry ploughed into him on the A3 as he was heading back into London. He died almost instantly. Even in a tank, he likely wouldn't have had a chance, the police had said. 

Dad has been my best friend my whole life. He's the person I go to for everything. He's my rock, my comfort, the person who makes me laugh the most - and he's just... gone? What will we do without the man that held us together? Mum and I, we don't see eye-to-eye. Dad always says we're too similar, that's why we argue so much. But I think mum and I are complete opposites.

Dad is – was, an engineer. Quite a good one. He's made enough money for us to live in a three-bedroom house in Wimbledon, South West London. Between the park and school. It's a nice house, nicer then some of my friends, but old. Lots of my friends parents live in smaller houses, and both their parents work. But mum doesn't. That's how I know dad earns enough money.

Dad likes - liked, to travel. He enjoyed seeing the world, a man who loved the finer things too, like expensive wine and fancy food. A quiet, serious, and private man who doted on me. Who doted on mum. He worked out, stayed fit, dressed well and had all the mums at my school lusting after him. Dad was a hero. He was my hero... and he's just... gone?

"Amelia," Mum whispers as she steps into the kitchen. I've been sat here staring at a cold cup of tea since mum broke the news. "Are you okay?"

What am I supposed to say to that? What is a reasonable answer? What would my volatile, emotional mother like to hear?