Cut up (The Loved Up #1)

Prologue

Brisbane

THEN

Mum quit her job today, and now she’s making me pancakes, with blueberries shaped like smiley faces. I think it’s because I got an A on my spelling test this week. But when we go to bed, I hear her crying in the bathroom. I don’t think she wanted me to hear. I don’t tell her that I did.

She pulls me out of school the next morning.

Says we are going on an adventure. She takes me to the beach. The movies. The library. Theme parks. The art gallery. Every day feels like a holiday. I don’t ask why. I don’t want to ruin the magic.

But her body is getting tired. She falls asleep sitting up. She looks skinnier too. Sometimes her hands shake when she brushes my hair.

I ask her if she is okay. She just smiles and says, “Of course, Millie. I’m just tired.”

Mum says she has to go to the hospital for a little while, to try feel better. Then he shows up to look after me.

My dad.

Chris.

I know him, kind of. He is in the army. A soldier, Mum says. He comes on holidays, and calls sometimes. Sends presents with his name on the tags. But he feels like a stranger, not someone who knows how I like my sandwiches or how I hate the dark.

The hospital smells weird. Like too much cleaning stuff, like they are trying to hide something. But they can’t hide what is really happening.

Mum is asleep when I walk in, there are small tubes in her arms, the monitors are making a beeping noise and her hair is tucked into a scarf.

I go to her bed, climbing up to snuggle her.

“I love you, Mummy.” I kiss her cheek.

She opens her eyes, smiles and whispers, “Millie. My beautiful girl. I love you so much.”

She doesn’t say anything else. She closes her eyes slowly. I lay there for a while, with my head on her chest and notice her heart stops making that thumping noise under my ear.

A nurse comes into the room to turn off the machine making that loud beep noise.

Her hand grows cold in mine.

That’s when I realise… She’s gone… Mummy is gone…

I start to cry, holding her tighter. Not wanting to let her go.

She promised it would always be us two, together forever…

I hear him. My dad. He’s standing in the doorway. He’s stiff and quiet. His eyes are red.

“Bug, it’s time to go,” he uses the name he’s always called me.

It doesn’t feel right.

My nickname is Millie, like Mummy calls me. It makes my chest hurt.

Because she isn’t going to say it anymore…

After the funeral, we pack my things into two bags.

One for my clothes.

One for the special things.

Everything else stays behind.

People keep saying things like, “You’ll be okay,” and, “At least you have your dad.”

But I don’t want “okay.”

I want her.

Dad tries.

He makes pancakes that are too runny, and he keeps forgetting where we keep the bandaids.

But he reads to me at night, even when I say I don’t want him to.

He sits outside my door when I cry, pretending not to hear. But I know he does.

After a while, I start calling his house “home.”

After a while, he doesn’t feel like a stranger anymore.

After a while, I stop waiting for her to walk through the front door.

But I don’t stop missing her. Ever.