Chapter Two - The First Proper Thought

'My eyes hazily adjusted to the bright glaring sunlight streaming out of my window, as I found my feet and half climbed half stumbled out of bed...'

School.
Finally, one first proper thought of the morning. I need to go. My eyes hazily adjusted to the bright glaring sunlight streaming out of my window, as I found my feet and slowly half climbed half stumbled out of bed, and the thought of that prison cell they call an education made me feel sick. I truly do hate it there. I can guess that you are thinking that I'm just another angsty teen who has a problem with almost everything due to 'hormones', but no, I have my reasons for hating school. I mean, I have friends and everything and I definitely don't want to become even more of a sob story than I already am, but the people there aren't exactly 'nice'. Basically they are the kind of person that will tread on you if you show any weakness. Some people can get in your head, unhinge it, make your life a hell to be in. They are that kind of person. And because punching people in the face isn't my cup of tea, they decide that I am a perfect prey to go after. Especially because I have a condition which to them makes me a crybaby, a f*g and a coward. That's some of their lovely choice words for you.

The high pitched pinging of an egg timer goes off, resonating from the kitchen, bringing me out of my thought. That can only mean one thing. EGGS. Also means that my mother's up. I stumbled down the stairs in my doctor who pjs, almost slipping as per usual due to my klutzy way of moving about, as I approach the pristine white walls of my kitchen. I spot my mother standing by the hob, her copper hair shining with flecks of blonde in the sunlight which shines through the spotless windows of my cold, emotionless and colourless kitchen. As  I dawdle to the black marble counter top, my mother catches a glimpse of me from the corner of her eye. A warm and wide smile spreads across. I reply with a weak, much less warm smile, the sick feeling rising in my head as I realize what I will have to face once this good hearted conversation with my mother has to end. I will have to return to the squeaking disenfected floors of my school, my place of suffering, where I have to run away from my mother's well wishings and farewells. I can never reciprocate the glad smile on my mother's face on a weekday. And she wonders why. But then again, cluelessness is what makes her so happy really. I just mask all of this fear with my weak smiles and sarcasm. But I guess there is some truth in the expression she sends me every morning, she's just happy she has her son back after the horrors of what happens to her child the night before. 

'Morning sunshine. You look awake.', my mother says with a sarcastic tone in her voice as she transfers the fried eggs onto a plate which she places in front of me, which I promptly begin to eat. 'Oh ha ha. Ha ha ha. Can you hear my very convincing laughter?' I reply. What can I say, I can get sassy when I want to. 'Jokes aside, did you sleep okay after the, well, you know...', she asks with an element of concern that I can tell is trying to be hidden. Mum knows more than anyone else that I really hate it when people pull out the sympathy card or show (or pretend to show) concern because of my terrors. It was nice when I was first diagnosed with it, getting all this sympathy, but now it's just irritating. I don't need anyone's sympathy, I'm not worth it honestly. All I ever do when people try and help is lash out or push them away. And I can tell when people don't mean it. People who pretend to care are only trying to get someone to care for them by making themselves look considerate or caring. Yeah, I get lack of sleep and while I'm having a terror it can be quite traumatizing, but I've learnt to handle it by now. 'Umm, I don't remember much, I know that it was the spiders again, but I just remember passing out (another thing that people with terrors aren't meant to do) and then waking up just a couple of minutes ago.'
'But are you sure-'
'Yes I'm fine. I'm fine!' I reply defiantly, almost shouting. Ever so often her motherly instinct decides to shine through. A short awkward silence fills the room.
'Sorry.' I say a few seconds later.
'No, I'm sorry Calum.' she replies quickly without hesitation.
'Um, I'm going to go get dressed now, if that's okay.' I say, swiftly gulping down my last part of egg, still a sliver of awkwardness hanging in the air.
'Okay, go get dressed. I love you.' she says with a caring tone in her voice.
'Love you too.' I say quickly, rushing back up the stairs clumsily as always, until I enter my room again, the faint sound of my mother sighing and cutlery clinking against china plates.

A/N Hello :) I hope you like this so far, I wanted to introduce Calum's mother in this chapter, I hope it's good. Don't worry, it will eventually get interesting :) Tell me what you think of this so far and comment about what you think. Feedback is really appreciated. See ya in the next chapter!
-Hannah xo