A Pair Of Pears (Completed)

Crashes and Screams

Despite what’s going on at home, I’m really starting to enjoy my new life in Cornwall. I think I finally have the potential to be happy. Monday was great, the four of us hung out at school like normal as if what happened on that camp out weekend didn’t happen. Although, I am somewhat thankful that what happened it brought Jackson and me closer together. Morning break I head to the I.T lounge and deactivate all my social media accounts. Back in Brum, they were the centre of every teen's social life, things are different here. I did have some messages from the girls in Brum, finally, but I ignored them, didn’t even bother to read them. I was scared to, in case I was tempted to reply. At lunch time, we hang out in the art room as normal, Jackson tells us his art is selling well in Willow’s shop, looks like he’ll get the chance to tour the festivals in the summer with his dad and Dylan. I’m going to miss him, I know it’s months away and anything could happen, but I think about things like that.
We walk back to Lily’s after school, it’s cold outside, the leaves have turned brown and all signs of summer are gone. Jackson wraps his arm around me tightly as we walk to keep me warm. Lily pretends to throw up. Willow makes stewed nettles, which taste as horrible as they sound, Jackson likes them, though, but then Jackson eats everything. 
‘It’s what makes me the big handsome lad I am!’ he says, proudly flexing his muscles. 
Lily snorts. 
‘Lils if I were a lady.’ Jackson continues, edging a camp hand in her direction. ‘You’d be all over me darling.’ We all laugh, even Lily can’t keep a straight face at that.  
Jackson walks me home, we stop in a bush on the way home for a fumble, Mum still hasn’t returned home by the time I get back, both Gran and Grandad are sat in front of the TV watching one of those old country home shows. Grandad seems to have recovered from his ‘episode’ the other day, although, something still doesn’t seem right, when I think about it, it hasn’t for a while. I head straight upstairs though, so I can get my homework done. 
I’ve also had such a great day that I don’t want to have a run in with Gran and ruin it. I also want to avoid Mum if she decides to come home. The house feels calmer when she’s not here, but I can’t help but worry about what she might be doing. I wonder how long it will be before my grandparents start to worry about Mum. Would they report her missing? of course, it doesn’t come to that, she comes home soon enough. 
There’s a scream.
There’s a crash. 
I hear Grandad sobbing from downstairs. 
I rub my eyes and roll over, I peer at the clock on my desk. Two forty-five is illumined in red. I reach down the side of my bed and grab my Kimya Dawson tour t-shirt, I pull it on over my vest top and sneak across my bedroom quietly. Having no idea what’s going on, I don’t want anyone to hear me. I try not to let the fear overtake me, what if there’s a murderer downstairs. Ready to chop me up into little pieces, or a terrorist wanting to decapitate me, I’ve seen the news. I know what really goes on in the world. I rummage through my laundry basket and pull out my tartan pyjama bottoms and pull them on. I slowly open my bedroom door, it creaks when the hinge gets to a certain point. I want to be sure that I won't be heard, I pause at the top of the stairs, listening to Grandad’s sobbing. I hear Mum’s voice, I can tell by the tone she’s off her face on booze and god knows what else. 
‘Oh, man up, crazy old man, you need to be in the looney bin you.’
I’m petrified, I shouldn’t be of my own mother, but I am. I always have been. Something in the back of my mind, tells me though that going back to bed isn't an option. I slowly creep downstairs. Avoiding the step that’s third from the bottom, there’s a crack in the wood. It creaks. I peer around the door frame, careful not to be noticed, I don’t have to peer too much. I can see the large oak bookshelf lying face down on the carpet. I’m guessing my mother is responsible. I honestly don’t know where a woman her size gets her strength unless she’s secretly a superhero. 
Oh shit, I think to myself, suddenly feeling sick. I can see an arm poking out from underneath the bookshelf. Gran's arm. 
‘Serves the old bat right!’ I hear Mum spit. ‘She won’t be dead Dad, unfortunately.’ 
I gulp. I quietly pull my converse out of the shoe rack as quietly as I can and slip them on. I quickly tie up the laces and pull my hoodie down from the coat hook. I sling it over my left arm and creep to the table by the door. I pick up the phone. Willow said to phone her day or night, but how could I phone her here? Mum would hear. Besides, I don’t have her number on me now. I dial 999, I stay to make sure an operator answers the call, then carefully place the receiver down on the table. I know they can track down calls, with a bit of luck they might hear something. I open the door as quietly as I can, I know it’s raining hard, I could hear it before I opened the door. I don’t care, I can’t stay here. I know what I have to do. 
I open the door and run out into the dark.