The reply was no sooner typed out than it was sent. Out to share her heartache with the world. "Can't stop, iI need YOU". Even in her drunken state, Caroline knew how pathetic she sounded, and slammed the phone down, just watching as it bounced off the bar, laying forlornly up at her, as if to say "This wasn't my fault". When had she started to behave like this? Why? It had probably begun at the age of twelve, when her parents marriage had broken down. Not meaning to play the blame game; but there was a reason Freud was so popular with his theories, right? Caroline laughed to herself. If they had any sort of substance, wouldn't everyone be as pathetically fucked up as her? How many children came from "broken homes" nowadays anyway? The majority, that's what. Nobody gets away without some form of mental scarring. Not even the perfect little nuclear family.
She had always been jealous of the Simson's household growing up in her hometown. To the outside world, their family unit appeared flawless. Mr. Simson, a business type, always wearing suits and being too busy, drinking his coffee black and talking too fast. Mrs. Simson, who attended meetings at the WI and baked cakes and raised money for charity and wore pearls and who would offer to help anyone, being so friendly. Perhaps a little too friendly. Or so it would seem when it came to helping Mr.Wilson. Caroline recalled how she would watch on enviously as their precious daughter Anabelle played with ever more extravagant toys. Little had she known she was only spoilt with such luxuries because her mother was too busy bonking her way round the cul-de-sac.
But why had Caroline's parents split? Pure unhappiness. She still didn't forgive them, not really. And now she would blame them for her own sadness. The phone, despite it's disgust at such treatment let Caroline know she had a new message "You need help." came the blunt reply. Well. Maybe she did. At her left side, she could see Sarah moving towards her, when had she even left?
"Ehhhh!" came her friends high pitched voice. "We're going to go to Paul's, he's invited us back, you have to come!". Caroline didn't even like Paul. He smelt a bit like Dettol. But what else did she have to do? She grabbed her phone and followed behind Sarah. Maybe it'd be fun. Dettol and all.
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