She's A Hurricane

Chapter Five

As expected, dragging myself up was the most difficult task imaginable. My mobile was still clutched in my flopped out hand and I realised I had three missed calls. Two from Nadine and one from Lydia. I'm surprised they hadn't woken me up. I guess I had just been too tired.

I moaned loudly and groggily rolled off my bed. I glanced down at my awfully wrinkled clothes and matted hair. I needed to remember never to sleep in my clothes again. Was I going to go downstairs like this? What happened if this Greg guy was already down there? Did I even care if he saw me in this state?

My answer was given almost immediately when my Mum poked her head around the door. I scowled her for not knocking. I hated when she did that, I deserved some privacy.

"Kat, I've got your suitcase down from the loft for you... start packing..." She shot me a crooked smile before she disappeared again. I hated that she was going about this so calmly. It was almost as if she was excited for me to leave. I bet she would throw a fucking celebratory party if she could. I could tell she had been waiting for this day forever.

I seriously considered not packing and just refusing to leave my room, but I knew that would seem childish. I wasn't about to throw a pathetic little tantrum in front of her, that would mean she had won. I wouldn't give her the satisfaction of knowing that she had broken me. I would just give her the silent treatment instead because I knew how much that truly annoyed her.

So reluctantly, I pulled my large, black suitcase from the landing and threw it onto the bed. It seemed so wrong. I had never used this suitcase for anything more than going on holiday. But now, I definitely wasn't going on holiday. I was going to a fucking prison camp.

Hastily, I opened my wardrobe, grabbed every piece of clothing I owned in one swipe and flung them into the suitcase in a messy pile. I then picked out an outfit quickly from the mound, deciding that I should probably change. I wasn't a total tramp.

I pulled on my favourite, acid washed skinny jeans and a plain black t-shirt that was pretty tight and low cut. All of my clothing was pretty much like that though. It was probably why I was always labelled as a 'slut' or a 'slag' by people at school, but I honestly didn't care. It got me some kind of attention and that's all I really wanted.

I then ran a brush through my electric blue hair, making sure my fringe was perfectly sitting above my eyes. I still looked a state, but better than I had been a few minutes prior.

"Katrina! Greg is here!" My mum called from the bottom of the stairs in a sweetly sick tone. My heart skipped a beat and I finished off shoving my belongings in my tightly packed suitcase before zipping it up. I knew this wasn't going to go well. I was apprehensive to meet this guy.

I looked around my bedroom for one last time and sighed. I had practically grown up in this tiny little room. It's where I would hide out when I was scared and cry when I wanted no one to see me fall apart.

Why was this happening to me now? I didn't want to leave. I wanted to stay here where I was somewhat safe. Maybe it wasn't too late to run away? Maybe I still had time? I shook my head.

I then began dragging the case down the stairs, making sure that each step caused a loud thumping noise. I wanted to make a good impression after all, making as much noise as possible would get me noticed.

When I was halfway down, I saw Mum and this Greg guy standing in the living room chatting. I was oddly surprised by his appearance, because he wasn't what I expected at all.

His fair hair was quite long and shaggy which matched his scruffy looking beard. He was wearing a light blue polo shirt and black trousers that were covered in colourful splotches of paint. He looked more like a construction worker than a bloody therapist. Perhaps this was all some sick joke. Perhaps he wasn't really a therapist and he was going to take me away to kill me. I wouldn't be too shocked.