Page 6 of Greased

A person I never thought I would ever be able to know, left with only mentions of him. Memories told by second hand experiences.

How can I even believe them when they were told by the person who has spent so long lying to me?

Did she lie about them too?

Is truly everything I know a lie?

I curl even further on myself, allowing the pain to take over.

Maybe the waves will wash me away, taking my pain right along with them.

The sun has well and truly set by the time I hop back on my bike and begin the ride home. I feel drained after having cried more tears than I think I ever have before in my life. Nearing almost being sick because of the raw grief that tore me apart.

The last few hours feel like they are on repeat in my head.

My Mum’s betrayal.

The return of my father and brother.

My accident.

Repeat.

And fuck while I’m at it, why not bring up the other five Americans that all but broke my heart.

Yep. Certainly not a stranger to heartbreak it seems.

The blacked-out SUV is still sitting in front of the house as I turn down my street. For some reason, I thought it may have been gone. Unfortunately, I’m not that lucky.

As I pull into the driveway, I notice my Mum’s car is gone though.

I slowly take off my helmet and blow out a deep breath. I take my time hopping off my bike. As some kind of safety net that if they were to come barrelling out trying to ambush me, I can just take off again.

I’m sure Grace wouldn’t mind a last minute sleepover.

The house is quiet as I make my way inside. Normally, Mum would have dinner on the table by now. The strict 6pm dinner every single night. It is used as our way to decompress and talk about our days. It's the one tradition that Mum likes to keep with the number of hours she works.

I make my way back into that same dreaded lounge room I stood in only hours earlier.

The room is empty except for Blondie, or should I say ‘Rhodes’, who has his head in his hands.

“Ahh, hey,” I whisper quietly trying not to scare him.

Blondie-Rhodes shoots out of his chair, almost falling over in the process.

“S-s-Scar, hey. Ah, are you alright?’

“Nope,” I reply, popping the P. There is no point in sugar coating it for this guy. I cringe at the thought of what I most likely look like.

“I’m sorry. When Dad told me that you were still alive, I had a similar reaction.”

“Right.” I draw out still not believing this guy’s story. “Now let’s say that you actually are my supposed dead twin brother that is actually alive and that I cannot remember whatsoever, how are you actually alive?”

Blondie-Rhodes breathes out a deep sigh, “It's a really long story.”

“I’m sure we have plenty of time. Where is Mum and older blondie anyways?” I ask, remembering the missing car from the garage.

“They went out to get what Mum said it’s, uhh, hot chook rolls?” He laughs awkwardly as he brings his hand up to scratch the back of his head.

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