Things never stay perfect for very long. I had forgotten that, even though my life had taught me it so many times.
It all started to fall apart one pretty slow Saturday afternoon. There was a knock on the front door, which was strange in itself. We never had visitors.
"I'll get it," Aaron said. I nodded absentmindedly and didn't look up from the book I was reading.
A few minutes later I heard this strange, strangled sound from the corridor. A voice said,
"Hello Aaron," and I recognised it instantly. It was the same voice that my cruel self-conscious had been talking in since I was small.
I sprang from my seat and ran into the hallway.
"Mother! What are you doing here?"
She stood on the doorstep, suitcase in hand.
"Well dear, I did try to tell you on the phone. But you simply weren't listening."
Her eyes darted this way and that, observing, judging.
Just the sight of her sent shivers of fear down my spine. I tugged at my skirt, making sure it came past my knees. I pulled a cardigan from the hooks on the wall, covering up my arms. Her gaze turned less disapproving.
Aaron looked at me with concern and something like regret. I ignored him.
"Aren't you going to invite your mother in?"
"There are no spare rooms," Aaron ventured; almost hopefully.
I waved him away and went to take her suitcase.
Where he had been afraid of Uncle Ben I was absolutely terrified of this small, rather normal looking woman.
"It's alright I'll sleep on the sofa until you can get me a hotel room."
Aaron opened his mouth to protest but I silenced him with a glare.
She came into the living room, something busy and intrusive about the quick way she walked, and how her eyes darted this way and that, taking everything in. I waited with bated breath for the lecture to begin.
She started fixing the cushions on the sofa, then went to the kitchen and found the dustpan and brush.
"No, Mum," I couldn't keep the panic from my voice. "It's ok, I'll do that, you sit down. Let me make you coffee."
When I caught Aaron's eye there was such defeat within them.
She let me pull them from her hands and set them down. I took her arm and led her back into the living room, but touching her made my skin crawl.
YOU ARE READING
The Boy with the Whiplash Tattoo
RomanceRECENTLY EDITED "I know you hate me but can't we at least pretend to be in love?!" Aaron is a strong silent boy who cries in his nightmares and struggles to trust and love. Camilla is insecure and self-blaming, hiding her feelings and fighting to...
