It All Started With The Butterflies

Chapter 53

Chapter 53: Departure

"After I warned you!" my mother bellowed, causing me to want the ground I stood on to open and swallow me up.

"I love him." It was a poor argument, but the only one I could think of.

"You love him?" She laughed wickedly. "You don't even know what love is?"

"And you do?" I enquired, my rage causing me to forget that she was my mother. "You accepted the idea that Asher committed suicide, so quickly. That's not love," I continued. "You led Brody Herim on and caused him to do things he regrets. You're the reason, he's pretending to be insane. You don't even let me explain my choices to you. You don't understand me."

"How did you know about Brody?" Her voice was shaky, and her eyes were shocked. Her messy hair coupled with her big eyes gave her the appearance of a deranged owl.

"Why?" I asked. "You didn't expect your past to catch up to you?"

"Madelyn," she roared, her ears steaming. "Watch your mouth!"

"You need to let me make my own mistakes. I can't be expected to learn from yours," I yelled back.

"Carl?" She looked to her husband for help. I hadn't even realised he had been standing here this whole time; he had been quiet as a mouse, maybe even quieter.

My father spoke for the first time, with no hesitation. "Your mother's right," he told me, speaking softer than her; his voice almost a whisper. He ran a hand across his face, emphasising that it was too late for this and all he wanted to do was crawl into bed and deal with this in the morning.

"Of course, you have to say that," I told him. "But would you still say that if you knew that she was the reason you met with that horrible accident twenty years ago?" The seed was planted now, I just had to wait for the flower to sprout.

He looked at my mother, visibly distressed at my words. My mother grimaced, she knew that Brody Herim was responsible for the car crash. Even if she didn't speak the words out loud, her eyes showed remorse for not having told him sooner.

"How did you find out?" she asked, her heart beating a hundred times faster.

I didn't reply; instead I walked towards my room with the intensity of her gaze boring a hole in my back.

"As long as you're under my roof, you'll obey my rules," she told me, deliberately delaying the conversation she had to have with her husband.

"Then I'll leave." I stopped just outside my room, turning back to look at her. My own words surprised me more than it surprised them. I was taken aback by my own boldness, knowing once the words were out there it was too late to take it back. But what surprised me most was that I wanted to leave. It would have been smarter to not tell them I was leaving, just leave a note. Like what Asher supposedly did. The only difference was that my departure would be less permanent than his.

I shoved my schoolbooks to one side of my bag and folded my clothes tightly, so that they would fit in the tiny, leftover space.

"Where exactly do you intend to go?" my mother asked, picking dead skin out from under her fingernails. She leaned her body against the door frame and yawned, covering her mouth with the palm of her hand. She was so convinced that this was an act, just to get attention; and that I wouldn't actually go through with it. She had no idea how wrong she was.

"Stinger Headquarters," I replied.

My mother let out a psychedelic laugh. "As if they'd let you in."

"Didn't seem to be a problem last time I slept over." I gave up on trying to zip up my bag, and instead just heaved it over my shoulder and hoped everything would stay in.

"You're not setting a foot out of this house." My mom seemed to realise I actually meant what I said. "You need help." Her voice was softer and more gentle, like she had practised the words multiple times. "Ever since Asher died, you've been troubled."

"I'm not seeing a shrink. You can't expect me to act like he never existed," I voiced, my eyes swimming with tears. "I'm not like you and dad." I knew the words hurt her and I meant them to.

"You're not yet eighteen," she told me pushing the pain of my accusation aside. "You can't just leave."

"Watch me." I walked past her, expecting her to grab my arm, but surprisingly she just stood there. I wasn't sure if it was shock that stopped her, or my dad's watchful gaze.

"Debra." My father didn't seem as tired as he had before. "What the hell is going on?"

I didn't hear her reply, nor did I want to. All I wanted was to be as far away from them as possible, and be with someone who understood me.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket and dialed Caspian's number. My bright phone screen was easy to see in the darkness of the night.

He answered on the first ring. "Please pick me up," I sobbed into the phone.

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