Chapter 36 Hendrix • Then
Chapter thirty-six
Hendrix · Then
Pressure – Paramore
Eighteen Years Old
Home, sweet home.
My mum screams downstairs.
I slip out of bed, wrap my arms around myself, and inhale the sweet scent of Cole left on the jumper I stole from him yesterday.
My room is a mess of bags and boxes. Everything of my life in the last year sits on the carpet, taunting me with my reality for another summer.
Two more to go, then I’m out of this hell hole for good.
I’ve just got to be patient and wait for the summer I graduate. Then, I’ll have access to the inheritance my nana left and I can leave this house, and the people living inside of it, behind without looking back.
Another shout breaches my door, followed by the sound of shattering glass.
I pull on a pair of leggings, slip my feet into Vans, and grab my skateboard.
This is the last place I want to be right now. But Cole is in Turkey with his parents, Saint and Theo are in Skegness, and Carter and Axel are on some stag do in Benidorm with some of their old school friends.
My only other option is crashing in Saint's shed for a couple days. It wouldn't be the first time I've done it, but his mum has a new boyfriend who is always around and the guy gives me the creeps.
So it’s just me in Chesterton with nowhere else to go.
I tip-toe down into the hallway as my mum wails.
My dad blares back at her, his voice rough, deep, and fucking terrifying as it vibrates through the house.
I freeze at the top of the stairs, my hand tight around the railing.
The front door rattles the foundations when it slaps shut. Then I hear the sound of wheels against concrete from outside and he’s gone.
Skateboard tight in my grip, I slip through the cherry scented kitchen.
Ironic, really. The house smells sweet at all times, but there’s nothing sweet inside these walls.
Glass from a broken vase crunches beneath my shoes. I grab a breakfast bar from the cupboard, shove it in my pocket, and start for the back door only to pause when my mum ambles into the room.
Her cheeks are tear-stained, eyes red-rimmed and haunting when they flicker over me. “I didn’t know you were coming back.”
“I didn’t think you’d care,” I quip. “You never have before.”
She huffs a breath. “That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it?” A dry laugh sits on my tongue. “Be real with me for once in my life, Mum.”
Her eyes drop to the island as she slides onto a stool and hunches over the marble. “It’s complicated, Hendrix.”
“What’s so complicated?” My grip tightens on my board. “You chose this life, you chose me, and then you spent every day making sure I knew what a mistake that choice was.”
She stays silent.
I tug my lip stud until it stings.
I’m not sure when it finally hit home that my parents didn’t like me—let alone love me—but it was somewhere in my very early childhood.
Don’t get me wrong, I’ve never been hit, never been left to starve. The bills are always paid, the cupboards stocked. But there’s been no love in this house.
I’ve never known anything other than resentment from the two people who are supposed to cherish me more than anything else in the world.
“Did you know that parents hug their kids when they come home for the summer?” I ask my mum, tears pricking my eyes. She doesn’t say a word. “Do you know what I got when I walked through that door? A big fat fuck you for daring to show my face.”
She shakes her head. “Your dad loves you.”
“My dad hates me.” I swipe a hand under my nose, a bitter laugh crawling up my throat when I realise she didn’t even try to defend herself.
Never herself. Only ever him. “And the worst part? I don’t fucking blame him.
Because why wouldn’t he? Why wouldn’t you both hate me?
I’m the reason it all fell apart, right?
You had me and it all went to shit, because everything I touch breaks. ”
A choked sob tears from my chest. “You two have taken great fucking joy in reminding me of that every day for the last eighteen years. That if I wasn’t here, that if you’d just done the right thing and got rid of me, then everything would be okay.”
She presses a shaky hand to the counter.
“Why didn’t you get rid of me?” I blare.
Not a word from her mouth.
I push. “Why didn’t you get rid of me? Why didn’t you just have an abortion?”
“Because I needed you to keep him!”
Her words crack through the air like a whip, stealing my breath as my world tilts.
I stumble back, sharp pain shooting up my spine when my back hits the door handle.
My mum slaps her palms against the counter and kicks the stool out from beneath her.
“He was leaving,” she shouts, her arms going wide as she spins to face me. “His bags were packed, the tour bus already loaded, and I couldn’t bear the thought of him being out there without me.”
Every breath stings as they leave me.
She shakes her head, the most devastating look I’ve ever seen marring her face. “I loved him so much.”
I open my mouth, but words fail as I feel my heart crack.
Staring into her eyes is like staring into a mirror.
The same green as mine, but it’s not only that.
I’ve said those same things about Cole. To Cole.
That I don’t want to be without him. That the thought of living life without him is unbearable.
Pain lashes my gut and I hunch over.
A question rips from me. “Why not just let him go?”
“Because I wasn’t living without him.” Footsteps sound, followed by the creak of the door. It starts to swing shut as she hits me with a parting line, “You’ll understand one day, Hendrix.”