Chanelle Hayes - Baring My Heart by Chanelle Hayes Page B

off. They had repeatedly called my parents to tell them and this was what Mum and I were fighting about on this particular night.
    ‘You can’t keep skipping school, Chanelle. You need to get your education or you’ll never make anything of yourself,’ she said.
    I sat in silence, refusing to even look at her.
    ‘What are we going to do with you? Your dad and I are at our wits end.’
    ‘Stop telling me what to do!’ I spat back. ‘You’re always criticising me. It’s no wonder I hate living here!’
    As the fight went round in a circle for what seemed like the millionth time, I screamed, ‘Right! I’ve had enough. I’m going into the woods and I don’t want you to follow me.’
    ‘Why are you going to do that? It’s pitch-black out there,’ she reasoned.
    And I thought, ‘Because if I stay in this house, I’ll bloody well go into the bathroom and take some more pills.’
    So I stormed out to the wooded area behind our house, which was also a shortcut to Natalie’s house. Because it was dark, I called her on my mobile and she ran to meet me and we walked to her house together. I was crying so hard I could hardly walk straight. When we got there, her mum Anthea gave me a big hug and sat me down.
    ‘What on earth is the matter?’ she asked. ‘What could be so terrible?’ I could barely speak for the tears but then, without even meaning for it to happen, it all came pouring out. I told them about everything I’d been through and why I couldn’t take any more. It was an enormous release of pressure.
    When I’d finished recounting my traumatic few months, Anthea looked a little dumbstruck but stood up and said, ‘OK,Chanelle. I think this has gone on long enough. I’m going to call your mum.’
    And as I sat there sobbing, she dialled our home number and I heard her say in a hushed voice, ‘Christine, I’m sorry to interfere and I know you have Chanelle’s best interests at heart. But I don’t think things can go on like this. Something’s got to give here. It’s bad for her, it’s bad for you and I think you need to be honest with her. This is destroying her. I’m worried that, if it goes on, she might really be pushed over the edge and it’ll be too late then.’
    Finally, someone was actually talking sense. I’ll always be grateful to Anthea for that because what she said really got through to Mum at long last. She came over straight away, still in her dressing gown, and has since told me that the next hour was among the hardest of her life.
    As soon she walked into the kitchen, I wiped my nose and said, ‘Are you going to tell me then?’
    She looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights and Anthea said, ‘Girls, go and wait in the living room. I need to talk to your mum now, Chanelle.’
    At least someone was there to take control of the situation. It seemed that neither Mum nor I was capable of that.
    Natalie dragged me by the hand into the living room and sat me down on the sofa but I was in such a state that I kept trying to get up and go back into the kitchen.
    ‘Sit down,’ Natalie urged. ‘Let my mum talk to her first – she knows what she’s doing.’
    It felt like they were in there for an eternity and, though I was straining my ears to catch what was going on, I could barely hear anything over the thudding of my heartbeat. Every now and again I heard a little bits of a muffled conversation and, at one stage, I’m sure I heard Anthea gasp out loud.
    Finally, the door to the living room opened.
    I jumped up. ‘What is it? Tell me.’ I stared directly at Mum.
    She glanced at Anthea, shaking her head. ‘I can’t do this,’ she whispered, holding her head in her hands.
    ‘What?’ I shouted. ‘Stop these games! You have to tell me now. This isn’t fair.’
    ‘Come on, Christine, you know you have to do this,’ Anthea said softly, putting her hand gently on her shoulder.
    As Mum sat down, she sighed deeply and I noticed that tears were rolling silently down her face.