Read Online The Institute by Kayla Howarth - Free Book Online Page A

I didn’t think there was an issue with last night?
Is he angry that nothing happened between us or does he think I’m
still upset about him joking about throwing me in the lake? “I’m
just feeling really down about Ebbodine. Aunt Kenna is always good
at cheering me up and keeping my mind off things that are troubling
me.”
    “What’s
troubling you? You can always talk to me,” he responds.
    He puts his arm
around me and I get the all too familiar safe feeling I get when he
touches me. I don’t want to open up to him right now though,
partially because he is one of the things I need advice on and
partially because I don’t want to burden him with Ebbodine stuff.
He has to be still dealing with Jax’s death, even though he hasn’t
really mentioned him since Ebb disappeared.
    “I know. I just
need to see my Aunt. We used to live with her and even though it’s
been three years, I still miss seeing her every day,” I try to
explain.
    I’m at a loss
for words for how I am feeling right now. I feel really down and I
don’t know how to get out of this funk. I have Dad and I have
Shilah and I even have Drew now, but I am feeling so alone. I’ve
gone through these phases before, especially just after my mother
died but I haven’t had one in a long time. I’ll probably feel
better later today but I’m assuming that with Ebbodine gone, my
brain has gone back to defensive mode and its main function is to
make sure I eat, sleep and breathe and nothing else. I stare right
in front of me in a daze and just try to concentrate on not
crying.
    Drew doesn’t
say anything else. When we get to the station near school, he
doesn’t even say goodbye, he just gets off the train. I stare after
him, but I don’t really have the energy to be worried if he’s upset
with me or not.
    By the time I
arrive in the city, I have started worrying what Aunt Kenna will
say when I turn up at her door. Maybe I should just deal with how
I’m feeling on my own; I don’t want to make it worse by opening
myself up to judgment. At least I have a pretty good reason to feel
this way though. However, there is always the little voice in my
head telling me that other people have it a lot worse than me. I
envision telling people how I feel and getting responses such as
‘suck it up’ and ‘we all have problems, why are yours any more
important than anyone else’s?’ I have to keep telling myself to be
strong; be strong for Shilah, be strong for Dad, but sometimes I
just want to stop being strong for five minutes to catch my
breath.
    The city is as
busy as I remember it. It’s a continuous wave of people amongst an
ocean of cars. I make my way down the sidewalk which seems to be
full of a million people intent on going the opposite way to me.
I’m starting to wonder how I ever lived here without going mad. I
guess you can do anything when you’re numb. We had just buried my
mother, figuratively speaking as the coffin was empty, but it was
at a time when we had to accept that mum was gone. Dad no longer
wanted to live in the house she went missing from and we were
behind on rent payments since we no longer had Mum’s income. Aunt
Kenna offered for us to stay with her until Dad could save some
money and work out what he wanted to do. I think it was the only
time in our lives that we moved because we wanted to and not
because we felt unsafe.
    Aunt Kenna
lives in a small two bedroom apartment. It was quite squishy with
the four of us living there but I enjoyed the closeness – I shared
a room with Aunt Kenna, and Dad and Shilah shared the other room. I
enjoyed living with her, but I’m glad Dad decided to move to the
country.
    I’ve lost count
of the amount of shoulder bumps I have encountered since I got off
the train. I look up at the buildings to try and find a familiar
landmark, did I take a wrong turn somewhere? I tell myself if I
keep walking, I will eventually recognise something. Up ahead I see
a protest of some sort, with people