This chapter is in Ben's P.O.V. The previous one was in Mae's P.O.V.
Enjoy.
---------------------------------------------------------
Dear Diary,
I don't even know why I have a diary. Mother gave it me, and I thought it'd be rude to refuse it, so I may as well make some use out of it.
Well, my name's Ben and I'm seventeen. And a half. I live with my Dad in Yorkshire, but at the moment I'm down with my Mom in London for the summer holidays. My Mom and Dad broke up a few months ago. My Mom's excuse was that 'God told me to get a divorce'. More like the guy she left my Dad for was better in bed.
As I'm sure you can gather, my Mom is a bit of a religious maniac. She drives me insane, and she knows that she does it, but she doesn't stop with her preaching. A while back, she made me dress up as a Eucalyptus tree for this stupid play she was running. She thought it was wonderful, but it was an actual nightmare. I've never been so embarrassed.
I'm dreading these four weeks in London. I'll actually go barmy. My Mom's new 'lover', Joe, despises me. It'll be a miracle if he doesn't try to kill me at least once in the time I'm staying with them. And then there's my Mom. Again, the only reason she had me down to stay was because 'God told me it was the right thing to do'. Yes, she does talk out of her arse.
Anyway, I better go. I can hear her coming up the stairs.
Night, Diary.
I quickly shut my diary and shoved it under my pillow. I knew if my Mom saw me with it she'd ask to see what I'd written.
She knocked on the door to my temporary bedroom and came inside, without waiting for me to give her permission. She would have flipped if I'd done that to her.
"Ben Ben," she crooned, smiling at me in a sickly sweet manner. I attempted to smile back at her, but I think my facial expression was more of a grimace. I really do hate the nickname 'Ben Ben'.
"Hi, Mom," I muttered, not looking her in the eye.
"So," she began, as she sat on the edge of my bed. "Do you like it here?"
I wanted to say 'No, you loon, go live in a mental asylum', but my manner's kicked in at that point and I said, "Yes, Mom. It's great."
She smiled even more and stood up. She bent over and kissed my forehead before saying, "Make sure you get some sleep."
She walked back over to the door, turned off the light, walked out the room and shut the door behind her. I glanced at the clock as I sat in bed, with my arms folded across my chest, scowling. The clock read, in large fluorescent green numbers, '9:09'. It wasn't even dark, yet!
I sat in bed, fuming, for a good hour and a half. My Mother still appeared to think that I was seven, not seventeen. Seventeen and a half, actually.
I was still fuming ten minutes later. I then heard an odd noise, which came from the left of my room. I frowned, pushed the bed sheets off me and got out of bed. I crossed the room, trying to make sure that none of the floor boards creaked. I leaned towards the wall and pressed my ear against it.
I listened closely. I could hear what appeared to be creaking bed springs. My frown deepened and I listened some more. I then heard a sort of panting noise.
It suddenly dawned on me what the noise was. It was my Mom and Joe. Having sex. In the room next door to mine.
My jaw dropped in a disgusted way. I stomped back to bed, as noisily as I could. No wonder my Mom wanted me to go to bed at ten past nine. I shoved my head under my pillow, in a vain attempt to block out the noise, which was gradually increasing in volume.
"What a messed up life you lead, Ben," I muttered to myself, before shoving my fingers in my ears.
