Jealousy

• Emma Whitson, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2017

Jealousy

I sat there, on the soft velvet couch, sinking into the many cushions that covered its surface. I watched my mum finish plaiting my little sister, Ellie’s, smooth blond hair, still watching as she was scooped into her warm arms. I turned away quickly as I felt salty tears begin to burn my eyes, and looked back down at my book. Eona. That’s what it was called. The words sprawled across the page like my dog, Sandy, sprawled across the carpet. I loved reading. It was my escape from the world around me and when I was reading it felt like I was in the book, sharing everything with the other characters. I glanced up again as I heard my mum talk to Ellie. There was so much love in her voice and as she spoke, she stroked Ellie’s rosy cheek with a long, delicate finger and looked into her forest-green eyes. I couldn’t remember the last time my mother had hugged me and talked to me like that and I desperately wanted her affection. Seeing the scene in front of me brought the tears that had been threatening to roll down my face, pouring out. I couldn’t let mother see me like this I thought, so I ran out.
In my room I let the tears fall freely down my face. They came out like a waterfall as I wished silently that my mum would treat me like she treated my little sister. There was love in everything she did for her but I never saw the same for me. Ellie got it all, I thought to myself.
I repeated this thought over and over in my head, which just made the tears fall harder. My face was damp from all the tears and my nose was beginning to run. I heard steps getting louder as they came closer to my door, which I had slammed shut in my mad rush to get to my room. If only I had a lock, I thought, my mum wouldn’t be able to come in and see me crying like a desperate little child. Slowly the door cracked open and my mum poked her head in. I felt ashamed when I thought about what she probably saw right now. A weak, snotty little mess with puffy eyes and wet cheeks. She looked surprised when she saw me crying and rushed in to sit on the bed next to me. ‘What’s wrong?’ she asked in a concerned voice.
All I could get out around the loud sobs escaping me was ‘hug’, and as soon as I said that I was in my mums arms, silently crying into her shoulder. I was flooded with loving warmth and gee it felt good. This made me spill the beans on how I’d been feeling and once again I was wrapped up and received the three best words I would ever hear come out of her mouth. “I love you.”