Chanelle Hayes - Baring My Heart by Chanelle Hayes Read Free Book Online

hate having new partners, even now. Scott had been asking over and over when I’d be ready to ‘do it’ but he seemed OK to wait. The day it finally happened, his parents had gone out and we went up to his bedroom for the inevitable. He put a Tracy Chapman CD on, which sounds unbelievably corny now but, at the time, it felt so sophisticated. Cheesy or what?
    Although he seemed to know exactly what he was doing, being that bit older, I’m afraid to say that it wasn’t some mind-blowing experience for me. In fact, it was pretty forgettable and I was left thinking, ‘Is that really it?’ How overrated it was. ‘Where are the dramatic noises they make in films?’ I thought. ‘Why is my mind not being blown right now? And why am I thinking about the essay I’ve got to hand in tomorrow?’
    Still, I was glad we’d done it, mainly because I now thought I was so damn grown up. We were nearly caught out though, as his parents came back soon after and said, ‘What’s going on here?’ I’m sure we looked pretty sheepish as we emerged from his bedroom protesting our innocence but they probably had us well sussed.
    After that, we began sleeping together regularly – whenever we could really. I was already on the pill, as I’d had some cysts on my ovaries, so we didn’t have to worry about contraception. And I guess I thought I was in love. Looking back now, that relationship barely even registers on my radar now but it was so important back then. It felt so liberating, especially as I felt like I was being treated like such a baby at home.
    The fact that my parents didn’t like him and wouldn’t let him sleep over at our place meant I began spending more and more time at his house. One time, Mum turned up there looking for me, clearly worried out of her mind, but I stayed up in his bedroom, trying not to utter a sound.
    ‘Is Chanelle here?’ I heard her ask at the front door. She sounded fraught with worry but I didn’t move a muscle. ‘I’m worried about her. She hasn’t been home for three days.’
    ‘No, she’s not here Christine,’ Scott lied through his teeth. ‘I haven’t seen her. Sorry.’
    I felt bad for deceiving her but it was easier to do that and a small part of me enjoyed making them worry. But, when I did show up at home again, Dad was livid.
    ‘Get out of this house!’ he blasted. ‘If you refuse to respect your mother and me and how we run this house, you might as well leave for good.’
    So off I stomped back to Scott’s place, my hiding place from reality. The only trouble was it wasn’t long after this that Scott unveiled his true colours. And it turned out that my dad had been right to be wary of him: he was a total druggie. I discovered that he was doing a lot of ecstasy with his mates and, despite me at first thinking it was entirely up to him if he wanted to pump his body full of dangerous chemicals, it began to affect our relationship. The drugs made him act so selfishly – like the time I cooked him a special Valentine’s meal at his house. I’d slaved over a hot oven and got us a nice bottle of wine but, in the end, he turned up really late that evening, without letting me know where he was. I ate the meal on my own, feeling utterly sorry for myself. When Scott finally showed up, he couldn’t eat anything because he was gurning so badly. I was so upset. But I also couldn’t go home because I knew I wasn’t welcome there. I had no choice but to forgive him.
    At this stage, I of course had no idea about my real mum’s drug problems, or even who she was, so it’s odd how I’ve always been quite anti-them. It’s almost like I had some sixth sense from birth about what had happened to her.
    Scott never quite understood my attitude either.
    ‘Just try one pill – you’ll enjoy it,’ he’d say.
    ‘No thanks,’ I’d scoff. ‘There’s no point. I hate drugs. It’s such a dirty thing to do.’
    It’s a view I still hold very strongly today but, back in my fiery