knew. Your father said he’d inform you.”
“He is not my father,” I scream, pushing away from the counter and heading towards the door that leads to Mum’s room.
She isn’t dead.
“Evie, you can’t go through there,” Lucy yells, no longer being formal.
I don’t believe her. My mum isn’t dead. She isn’t. This is another one of Andrew’s cruel tricks, and they tricked Lucy into believing it. Why else would she look so heartbroken for me?
“No. I’m seeing my mum. You can’t keep her from me.”
A security guard tries to keep me from entering when he walks through the open doorway, unknowingly giving me access. With strength I didn’t know I possessed, I push him out of the way, my feet slapping against the puke green carpet as I race to Mum’s room.
She is in there. I know it.
This is all a joke.
Her door is open when I arrive, and I come to a halt in the doorway. Her belongings are no longer in their place around the room, and her favourite bedsheet isn’t on the mattress. The bed is stripped, and on top is a lone box that’s filled with her belongings.
The room around me begins to spin as my body shakes.
“No,” I hoarsely cry, feeling my knees buckle. “No!”
Falling to my knees, sobs rake through my body, my chest tightening each time I try to draw in a breath.
“I’m sorry, Miss Wilson,” Lucy soothes, kneeling beside me, rubbing circles over my back.
“W-why didn’t anyone tell me?” I cry out, forcing deep breaths when the panic overwhelms me.
She’s gone, and all I feel is empty and lost.
“We assumed your father would tell you,” she explains.
“He’s a monster,” I whisper, blocking everything out.
She’s gone, and I am left alone in the world. I have no family. Knowing I’ll never see her again has left a gaping hole in my heart that will never, ever heal.
“Are you okay?” she asks, biting her bottom lip when I blank my emotions.
“Has he buried her? Cremated? What has he done with my mum?” I ask, reaching for her box of stuff.
Her scent is still in the room and it causes a wave of pain.
She is never coming back.
I can’t even find relief in the fact she was at peace. I can’t find closure in knowing her mind will be her own now.
All I feel is anger; anger at Andrew for keeping her from me and anger at Mum for leaving me.
“I have this card,” she tells me, handing me a small business card. “They are who we call after a doctor has confirmed death. They are still waiting to hear from her next of kin.”
I give her a sharp nod, taking it. I grab the box, feeling hollow inside. I fought for so long to keep her memory alive, and in a short space of time, he took the precious moments I had left with her, so did this care home by catering to Andrew.
He kept her from me, and in the end, succeeded in brainwashing her into thinking I was poisoning her.
He turned her against me my whole life. Whenever he turned up, it was never about us anymore, about me, it was about him and what he needed or wanted. She would force me to my room, so he didn’t have to see me. Once, I heard him tell her that he came to get away from children, not spend more time with one.
“Would you like me to call someone?” Lucy asks softly, bringing me back into my nightmare.
I force a smile, holding the handles on the box tighter. “There isn’t anyone to call. Not anymore. She died five days ago.”
I feel like I’m walking in a dream world, not hearing or seeing anything as I leave.
There are people around me, their faces and bodies a kaleidoscope of colours as I pass them by. The world has stopped or is playing slow as I keep my head down, walking to the car.
Dropping the box onto the back seat, I slide in, gripping the steering wheel, my eyes clenched shut.
She is gone.
I can’t breathe.
I’ll never get to see her smile, hear her laugh. I’ll never get to tell her I fell in love and had my heart broken. She’ll never get to see me walk down the aisle or meet any future grandkids.
She is just gone.
And he didn’t tell me. Even for a man as cruel as Andrew, this is sick. She was my mum.
Putting the car into gear, I drive out of the carpark,