Special thanks to Corrine for putting up with my inconsistent snippets and good luck to Kirstie, who is trying to convince her mother not to get a Rottweiler, when they already have 2 kittens. Anyway...
Vince found himself holed up in his room for what seemed like the hundredth time that week. Downstairs, after Melinda had finally vacated, everything was strangely quiet, and rather than go back down stairs, he decided to stay upstairs and pack.
There was too much going on to stay here. Too stressful and claustrophobic and awkward. He'd already texted some old friends from college, asking if he could crash there for a few days or weeks. Hadn't decided which yet.
Not waiting for a reply, he was already balancing on the old armchair, trying to knock the ancient suitcase off the top of the wardrobe, eventually giving up and yanking it off, so it toppled to the floor with a dull thud, the hundreds of peeling stickers rustling slightly.
Vince flung open the wardrobe, which was full of mainly t-shirts and the odd, somewhat misguided gift of a Christmas woolly jumper. He picked out a random armful of clothes and threw them on the bed, next to the case, before perching on the edge of the bed to examine them.
Half of them could instantly be ruled out – either too big or too small, and in one case, practically doll sized, after Howard had mistaken the purposely-there paint speckles on it for dirt, and put it on a boil wash, and tried to hide the evidence by dressing one of Naboo's voodoo dolls.
Another particular t-shirt he recoiled at – the black long sleeve number that smelt a bit off as it hadn't been washed since the first time he cut and hastily dragged it on over his still-bleeding arms.
A jacket near the top of the pile also joined the black shirt in the far corner of the room as it was size "L" and although from the women's section of Topshop, once again reminded him of how fat he felt, even if everyone was trying to force food at him at every opportunity, even making the expression "Midnight Snack" a designated mealtime.
Somewhere beneath the clothes pile, his phone buzzed to itself. Paying no attention, he picked up a bundle and heaped it into the suitcase, not particularly caring if they creased or not.
Taking out a sketch pad from under his wardrobe, Vince picked up a pencil and hastily scrawled down a note.
To Howard, Naboo and Bollo (when he gets back from Tesco's)
I'm going to stay at Jasmine's and Perry's along with everyone else from college. Not that everyone from college is going to be there, just some people I used to know. Well not everyone I used to know. Never mind. You get what I mean, with any luck. I always have been crap at writing letters.
I need to get out. I know she's gone, but you keep going on about me getting better, but its so tense here and you lot are stressed too!
I'll come back eventually, I promise.
He puts the pen down, and then picks it up the suitcase, which is surprisingly heavy. Vince distantly realises he has no clean underwear, or anything that practical at all really, so to compensate at least a little for his stupidness, he shuffles to the bathroom and grabs the toothbrush, stuffing it into his back pocket, imagining he looks like a neon tramp, only a bit less scruffy.
His gaze lingers on the razor stuffed clumsily into the wire basket at the back of the bath for a little too long, and Vince finds himself thinking of forbidden relief from all the drama and...
If it was really going to be a new start, or whatever, he needs to leave it behind, even though he'll probably regret it later.
Clicking off the light he tiptoes down the stairs and picks up a key from the telephone table, replacing it with the letter, then listening intently to the quiet voices from the living room. Confident nobody is coming, he unhooks the latch on the door, and heads back out into the dark.
This may be the last chapter...i haven't quite decided yet...yeah.Please review!