Title: Black heart
by Olivia from Surrey | in writing, fiction
A tear swept down my face.
"I didn't do it Mum." I lie.
"Please." she says, the horrible look of knowing in her eyes, disappointment came through the sparkle that was usually there, like a lighthouse in a dark and gloomy storm. She knew I had, but I wouldn't give in.
"Your emails." she says, as if she'd cracked me. I had already thought about this.
"Sure." I push the on button on the front of my old computer. I type in my username and password. My emails sit in front of my mothers eyes, so innocent, too innocent. A look of annoyance comes across Mums face for a brief second.
"Mum, I told you I didn't do it. Just accept that you're wrong."
"But I'm not wrong. On the news. I know it was you. Just cut off the act."
"I'm not acting Mum. You know better than anyone that I can't act."
"I thought I did. But I just don't know anymore."
Having an experience is not something that you can just leave behind, it's something that you pick up and escort with your every move, no matter how much it pains you.
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