Posted in Creative Writing, Writing

Ella at The End Of The World – Episode Thirty Three

Read more of Ella at The End Of The World

In the car again. Martin is furious. I’ve asked him to go back, because we can’t leave things like this, but he won’t listen.

 

I should explain. I woke up this morning to lots of shouting, and it took me a minute to figure out what was going on. Martin was stood over Jude’s bed, while Thomas was holding him. Jude was crying his eyes out, while Mary and creepy Celia just sort of stared from the doorway. Apparently, Celia had snuck into our room last night, and kept Jude awake for hours, feeding him poisonous little stories about how her cult could get his mum back. It was when Martin told me that, that I realised where I knew her from. There was a documentary about them last year, this little garden or whatever they call themselves. Allegedly, they draw people in, by promising them things that they desperately want, and then they trap them in the cult and isolate them. They were making a move on poor Jude. It’s grooming really. Sick.

 

He’s been hit hard by losing Little Mary. We all have, but him the most, really. He likes to think he’s all grown up, at fourteen, but the truth is, this is a lot for anyone, especially a kid. The world is on fire, people are dying, nobody knows where to go or what to do, and to top it all off, he’s just lost his mum, in one of the most horrifying ways imaginable, so I don’t blame him for staying up, and believing fairy stories from some sick bitch who makes promises she can’t keep, but that’s what we’re here for. He might think he’s all grown up, but that isn’t going to stop the family he has left from looking after him.

 

Anyway. Thomas and Martin were furious, but Mary kept making excuses. She said she’d known Celia for years, and that she was only trying to help Jude find peace, whatever that means. I’ve never seen Martin angry at his mum before. Everything she said just seemed to make him more angry, and then, he just started grabbing our stuff, without a word.

 

I don’t think Mary realised at first, what was going on, but after a few minutes, when it became obvious he was packing, with the intention of us leaving, she started trying to stop him, insisting that she didn’t want to go.

 

Then came the real shock. He told her she wasn’t invited. Instantly, heartbreak hit her face. She looked like he’d torn her heart clean from her chest, tears started forming, and she just stood there, completely helpless. I don’t even know why, but I felt sorry for her. I went over and put my arm around her, and she just fell into me. I think, that with everything we’ve all lost, she always had one certainty. She’d always have her little boy, and when she realised that she didn’t anymore, it hit her, so suddenly.

 

I thought we should stay, just long enough to try and persuade Mary to come with us, but Martin insisted, almost dragging me to the car. Thomas and Jude took their car, and we’ve agreed that they’ll follow us, and we’ll try and find somewhere safe.

 

I feel like we should go back. Not because I care for her (I don’t), and not because I felt safe with those cult weirdos (I didn’t), but because if something happens to Mary, I don’t think Martin will be able to forgive himself for the way that they left things, but the further and further away we get from that house, the surer he seems of his decision.

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