The Loved One

The room still echoed a bit because of the lack of furniture. Aimee woke up shivering because the heating wasn’t working properly and was already dreading the day. In fact, it was not the day ahead she was dreading, it was the thoughts of “home” which could come to haunt her in the silent loneliness of her new home.
Sighing, she decided to get up and dressed before she further thought about these kind of things. The process of getting up was far worse than she had imagined. Her muscles ached and her whole body still hurt and stung from her last beating back at “home”. On her arms, she could see the purple bruises which would still be there in a few days time. Refusing to think back, she got up and walked into the kitchen after she heard her stomach grumbling. But the fridge was empty; she hadn’t had time yesterday to fill it up. So she took one of the glasses placed on the table and drank a bit of water to ease her slight hunger. That was one of the few things she would miss about home: a full refrigerator, from where she could take and eat whatever and whenever she wanted for free. Asides from that, she’d have to do all the cores by herself without any help at all and she remembered hearing her mother saying what a bother it was. And that if she, Aimee, only helped more, it would be that much easier. And after that, Aimee got beaten up because she was a bad daughter without love for her mother at all and just didn’t help enough with the chores and so on. Conveniently, her mother would forget each time that Aimee had to go to school and do her homework and didn’t stay home all day long like her mother did.
Shushing the thoughts, Aimee left the kitchen and wandered around in her new home where things would be better and life would start anew. Absentmindedly, she noted what she should buy next and made a mental note for herself to go into town and find some flee market or secondhand-stores. Because she had spent all her money on the studio and her studies, she didn’t have that much left. “Seems like I need to get a part-time”, she thought silently to herself. While she was enjoying the view from her small living room, her mobile started ringing. Aimee hurried back into her bedroom, hoping it was Philomena, her best friend. But where had she placed her phone before getting ready to go to bed? Was it still in one of the bags she had brought with her? She tried to identify the direction in which the beautiful singing voice was leading her. She caught a phrase or two (…"mumbling words but no one hears, writings these lines with my own tears, I am just living this whole lie, like to escape this life and fly"… ) and hurried all the more because she knew the song was coming to an end. But while she was searching, her thoughts strayed from the task at hand to less pleasant things. She remembered all the times when she needed to go to school, bandaged, tired and hurting, using one time after another the excuse for being clumsy and falling down the stairs again. Aimee still didn’t know whether her friends had believed her or if some of them had suspected what was going on. And somehow, she didn’t want them to know. It was her life and she loved her mother inspite of all this woman had put her through.
Sometime throughout her thoughts her phone had ceased ringing and Aimee stared disbelievingly on her display. Her mother. Why would her mother call her? Aimee shook her head, left the room and grabbed her keys. She would think about it later: now, she needed to get something to eat, maybe even some furniture and, with a bit of luck, even a part-time job to earn some much needed money.

She exited her studio, closing the door shut. The echo resounded for a while, but Aimee couldn’t hear it for she was long down the stairs. Maybe she, “the loved one”, could start anew with her life.


EDIT: I completely forgot. The lyrics mentioned do not belong to me, they are part of a song called Falling by Christian Linke. So no sueing, 'kay?

22.12.09 22:48

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