The Prison Chapter 2

I needed to cope and drinking made everything seem so much easier to cope with, it gave me a sense of numbness that granted me the ability to function. I traded pain for numbness on a daily basis.

I'd gone back to my Fathers the next day and been able to function on a basic level. The pain and sadness was always close to the surface and I found myself
wrapping my arms around my chest at times as if trying to keep it all inside. I was able to survive the pain I saw in my Fathers eyes and I was able to stutter through my perfunctory apology all the while knowing that at the bottom of my bag was my safety net. The bottle that would have me feeling warm and numb in seconds.

The change was subtle but effective one minute my mind was unable to focus and the pain and anxiety swelled up inside my body threatening o spill out of me in a scream and the next minute I was calm, focused and almost articulate. I was never drunk. I was just in control. Every time I used the alcohol to control my emotions it felt as though a little piece of my heart was turning to stone. I wondered idly whether one day I would be able to face my emotions without being intoxicated. The idea seemed pretty farfetched.

When I got home to my Mothers from school that night she was waiting for me. As I walked down the drive I could see that the dining room light was on, shining through the living room window. That was the only indication that something was wrong. The dining room was the one room in the house that was never used, it seemed to grand and formal for the two of us to use. It would have felt like a fairy tale, two people sat on opposite ends of a long table. Not to mention my Mother and I were hardly Chefs. Normally what we cooked could be eaten with our hands over the pan. My Mother rued the day they stopped teaching cookery at the local schools.

My key turned in the door and I realised I was holding my breath. I let it out in a whoosh but my hands shook as I put the key on the table by the door. I'd been busted. I'd hardly been careful with the amount of alcohol I'd been taking from her stash. I almost wanted to be caught breaking the rules so flagrantly, to be forced to examine the emotions and feelings that for so long I had pushed deep down inside of myself. Christmas was long past and I was still no better able to articulate why I was unable to stay at my Fathers. I was aware that the feelings had mutated somewhat, guilt and grief were now mingled with a deep feeling of self loathing and hatred. I hated what I was becoming but knew of no way to stop it without causing more pain to the people I loved.

My Mother was sat at the table, her face in shadow. From the doorway I could see her linked hands, her knuckles white from the pressure. Panic flared up inside me and I quickly tried to arrange my face into what I hoped was a casual expression, the mask I'd seen in the mirror all those months ago. She looked up, her faced looked almost grey in the light.

'Sweetheart?' she said unevenly.

She indicated to the chair closest to her and I floated towards it frantically trying to piece together a lie that would be water tight. My bag was gripped tightly in my hand, but that was not unusual. The ever present voice in my head added 'liar' to my ever growing list of sins. My mouth was so dry I wasn't sure I'd even be able to speak. As I sat down my Mother looked less anxious and she launched slowly and carefully into what was obviously a well prepared speech, intended to cushion whatever blow she was about to inflict.

'There's been a reshuffle at work and a lot of new jobs have been created with lots of potential for me...for us, all over the country...' she took a deep breath.

I was aware of my Mothers eyes shining excitedly and her use of the phrase 'all over the country'. I'd almost relaxed when I realised I wasn't about to be grounded until I was 30 but now I felt the familiar feeling of anger and panic rising inside my chest. I could tell that she was assessing my reaction carefully, seeing which tact she should take, and I could tell that my smooth mask was still firmly in place.

'I've been offered one of the new jobs...' she faltered, her eyes searched my face uneasily for a flicker of emotion, something to give my reaction away.

Whilst my face remained smooth my insides were as wild as the sea. I felt disgusted that my first reaction was not one of happiness for my Mother but of self pity for myself. How dare she uproot me from my home, my school, and my friends? How could she not know how unhappy I was? I couldn't help myself, the thoughts snowballed and I recoiled from images my mind threw up of me as the new girl at an unfamiliar school. I was colossally selfish and knowing it didn't help. I licked my lips, hoping my voice would resemble something of its normal tone.

'Err, that’s great....' I was truly pitiful, my Mother had done everything she ever could for me and this was all I could muster in the way of congratulations. 'Where is it?' I whispered. My common sense tried to override my catastrophising, it could be local still, a longer commute perhaps. Nothing too terrible to deal with. My Mother looked relieved that I had regained the use of my voice and had noted how it shook with emotion.

She looked my straight in the eye and said '200 miles away'.

I put my mask back on and gripped my bag tighter.