Note: not sure if it counts as not planning because I'm sequel-ing my last entry... But I have not actually planned anything about this, and it's not very good.
As June drove back to her flat, the hallucination stopped her train of thought a total of 11 times. She liked to think that 11 is a lucky number, yet for who was unclear. Her dead mother, or herself.
That night, June received not one call. Of course, this wasn't out of the ordinary, as she hadn't much time for hobnobbing in her six months in Leeds, but it never felt good. It has never occurred to her that inter-person relationships were all that important until she didn't have any.
All of a sudden, the phone rang. This was odd because as stated previously, she didn't often receive phone calls. But it wasnt her mobile phone mind you, but the telephone that came with the flat.
The telephone she had never given out the number of.
The telephone she had only ever used to call one person.
June stood cautiously, as if sudden movement would somehow scare the caller away. She picked up the phone, bringing it to her ear.
"Hello?"
"Juniper? Is this you?"
The voice coming out of the phone was low and smooth, oozing out of the phone like treacle. June let out a breath, vaguely relieved, yet also mildly disappointed.
"... Em? How did you get my number?" She breathed into the phone, listening carefully.
"I looked at my phone's logs dummy. Where are you?"
"My flat. Where else?"
"Look, June, I need you to do something for me. I need you to take care of Mom, can you do that?The breath left Juniper's lungs as she froze in place. This wasn't happening
"Look, June, I need you to do something for me. I need you to find Mom, can you do that?"
The breath left Juniper's lungs as she froze in place. This wasn't happening. It couldn't. Mom was dead.
"Emerson, Mom is-"
"She isn't dead, June. You know that. Quit pretending. Do you know how hard it's been for her? You just left, June. You left us with no warning. The least you can do is stay with her."
June's hands shook with fear and rage. That's not true. She told them both her plans. She showed them the money for the flight. She'd cried in front of them when her mother 'forgot' the money belonged to June. She'd told Emerson goodbye the day she left. He was the first person she called when she got her flat.
" No."
" Please, June, think about her-"
" No."
She hung up the phone, hands shaking. How dare he accuse her of not caring, of selfishness. How dare he ask her to go back to that woman, as if they were old pals.
June sunk to the floor. She couldn't go back there. Not to Hamilton Street, not to Wyoming, not to the USA. She wouldn't. She couldn't. Did Em not remember? Could he just look past all the things their Mother had done?
June sunk to the floor. She couldn't go back there. Not to Hamilton Street, not to Wyoming, not to the USA. She wouldn't. She couldn't. Did Em not remember? Could he just look past all the things their Mother had done?
As June sat on the kitchen floor, she opened up her mind, and let the voices in. The breakups, the longing, the laughter, and the screams. The longer she sat in the cacophony of thoughts, the further she seemed to drift from that little house in Wyoming, and her little brothers plea for help.