Chapter 21

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Hey guys! Two chapters today! Yayyyyyyy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! :D :D :D I realised that my updates are very infrequent & spaz & I should probably try to make a regular update, but that's just too difficult at the time being, I'm very sorry!!!!! I'll try my best!

Disclaimer: I do NOT own 'Imagine' by John Lennon. That belongs ONLY to John Lennon & his people. I own NONE of it. Just borrowing it. (PS-if you haven't heard it, please go listen. It's amazing)

Final part of the authors not (sorry it's so long) and PLEASE READ THIS ONE, even if you've skimmed the rest. This chapter is pretty dark. It deals with death & if that's something that upsets you, I'm really sorry. I've never personally lost a parent, so I don't know what it feels like. I used my imagination for this, so the result may not be completely accurate. Just be aware it's a little dark.

Anyway, thanks for reading & enjoy the chapter. It's nice and long :)

I woke up stiff and sore. My mouth was dry and my head ached. They were signs of a hangover, even though I didn’t touch a drop of alcohol last night.

I picked up my phone and checked the time. Six-am. Brilliant.

The bus was silent.

The others had traipsed in at half-past-two this morning, so they were probably fast asleep, drowned in exhaustion.

As the screen flashed black, I caught a glimpse of the date.

January 6.

I pressed a shaky hand to my mouth as I realised the significance.

It was the anniversary of my Mum’s death. Four years today.

Damn it all. That’s just what I needed right now.

I closed my eyes so the tears couldn’t fall, homesickness overwhelming me. I needed to be back in Melbourne with Dad. I needed to be at Mum’s grave, putting flowers on it and singing softly. I needed to be in my warm bed. I needed safety. I needed security. I needed love. I needed my mum.

Goddammit.

I closed my eyes, hoping that sleep would bring peace, but it didn’t help.

Exhaustion brought sleep upon me, but did nothing for the grey haze of sadness I felt begin to fall over me.

*

The day dragged on.

People would ask me questions and I would respond. I didn’t start any conversations.

People asked me what was wrong. I said I was fine.

The circles under my eyes and carefully blank expression told them otherwise.

Jules, suffering a light hangover, became my guard dog, snapping at anyone who intruded too far into my personal space.

Em rubbed my back and let me rest my head on her shoulder.

Stella, to whom the situation had been explained in whispered tones with a serious promise not to tell anyone, brought me tea and cake, which I barely touched.

The boys had been gone when I’d gotten out of bed. They were at a signing. I’d been asked to go to a separate signing later today, but Jules had explained the situation, rather irritably, to Jo and she’d let me off the hook. I knew I was snubbing my duties, but I needed time today.

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