Jizzie | Hand on Heart

Chapter 23 | Coming Home?

"I needed to tell you." I take a deep breathe, "that I'm sorry, I should've given you the chance to accept my past, I owed you that much."

Joel doesn't say anything, but I hear movement and the ding of an announcement.

I want to ask him what he's doing, but I no longer feel I can.

After what feels like hours of waiting, I hear him sigh.

"I know." Then the line clicks dead.

Although I didn't get to say what I wanted to say, I feel comforted in the fact that he is able to talk to me now without getting wildly angry.

Even though I'd deserve it if he did.

The next morning comes quickly, and we spent most of it packing to move further into the city.

The drive is two hours at least, so we get going as quickly as possible.

Throughout the journey, we stop off at a few drive through a to get food and snacks.

Mostly Jessie, as I don't eat much, which she is definitely starting to notice.

"We're almost here." Jessie squeezes my hand.

I thank the stars that it's half term break and we were able to come, although our two week trip would make us miss school, so we had a lot of catching up to do before mocks.

But I can't think about that right now.

My gaze wanders out of the window as I look up at the familiar sight of my childhood home.

Jessie gets out of the car first, but I can't bring myself to open the door.

The white walls that had kept me safe for all those years, now brought nothing but fear.

Yet, I knew I needed to do this.

I take a deep breathe, before pushing the car door open.

Once again, I'm met with a warm breeze, yet I'm shivering.

Jessie stands on the pavement, looking at me with concern.

I don't meet her eyes as I walked up the steps, before slowly resting my hand on the brass door handle.

The coldness of the metal chills me as I open the door.

No light greets me, but shock pulses through my body.

It's exactly how we left it.

How.

We'd called the housing agency and no residents had moved in, in the time we'd been away, but how was everything all so clean.

The floorboards creak underfoot as I swung the door open all the way.

Feeling around for the light switch, and relish in the light that took away the darkness.

I run my hand along the banister as I walk down the corridor, past the living room and the dining room, and into the kitchen.

The familiar sights banish the cold feeling in my heart and I inhale sharply.

It's exactly the same.

This feels like some kind of dream.

From the pictures on the fridge we'd left behind to the wedding china my mum hadn't been able to bring with her.

I pickup the picture frame sitting on the shelf, and tell myself that under no circumstances am I allowed to cry.

It was the last trip we'd taken as a family, in Canada, skiing.