Hello my friends! Sorry this one’s late, been a bit ill but all good now! Hope you enjoy the sop story of Installment number 5 🙂

Admin note: The following story contains brief depictions of alcohol and drinking, as well as character death. Do not read if you find this offensive or upsetting.

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You know what. I was right. This Island really does suck. And it doesn’t exactly look as if it’s going to get any better…

I was just riding around, back down to Moorland, and saw Thomas. He looked like he might just cry. I asked him about Justin – me and my bad timing – and he just stared at the floor. He said that maybe I shouldn’t hang around Moorland anymore, and maybe I should just give it up about Justin, you know just go home and focus on school work or something. Thing is, unlike most people who just say things like that when they’re angry, but he seemed to really mean it. Then he walked off to his house, and I knew I clearly wasn’t welcome there anymore. I just galloped away on Braveheart, right down to the Thorny Rocks, down the road from Fort Pinta. I sat there, listening to the sea. I used to do that when my mum left me at night; sit in her makeup wardrobe, listening to the sea conch Nana gave me before she died. I used to call Nana and Granddad, every time Mum left me on my own, but after she died, I didn’t have the heart to call him. I’d just sit on my own.

It all started when I was really young, around 6, but she did sober up for three years. Then she met Nicky. And everyone could tell he was bad news. She was out till around eleven at night at first, which then progressed to the later of the earlier hours of the morning. I’d just sit and wait to hear the car draw up, and then fall asleep, sure that she was okay. Granddad wasn’t stupid though, and he knew she was leaving me. One night, he just came and took me away, and phoned her to tell Mum that he was never letting me in her house again. She was so drunk she couldn’t even speak straight, and I can remember his anger when he hung up. He sent me to bed, but I didn’t even sleep. I heard the car skid up, sliding into the tree. I could see the flames through the curtains. I could hear Granddad gasping and staggering back. I heard the sirens and witnessed the flashing lights. The stretchers and the ambulances. The police and their detectives. One came in to talk to me. She came in and saw me, staring out of the window, my eyes glassy and my skin white. She tried to pull me away from the window, saying it was okay for me to cry, and that ‘Mummy had been caught in a sad accident, but that everything was going to be okay. I knew better by then. ‘Everything is going to be OK’. Just a term of phrase. I didn’t cry once. Not at the funeral. Not at the hospital. Never. I haven’t cried since though.  I think I learned never to love again. Until Now. Until wasting it on some idiot who just ran away, just like my mum, and dad, anyone who was close to me. So, back to my old self. Young, free and moody.

So, back from my sop story, that guy Derek turned up on a horse. He started jabbering away, but he was so busy stumbling over his words, he didn’t see me ride away.

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