Novels by Toni Elliot

It’s finally the day that I get to go home, not that I am particularly looking forward to it. My parents didn’t arrive until after dinner, and I can’t help but think that maybe they weren’t looking forward to me coming home either. Bobby’s funeral is tomorrow. A knot forms in my stomach every time that I think about it. A large part of me doesn’t want to go; I cannot stand the thought of everyone that loved Bobby looking at me with disgust. Maybe that’s what I deserve though, it was my fault after all. I pack the small number of items that were brought in for me in a bag. I look around the room and sigh. This room feels like it has become my home over these last few days. I went through a rollercoaster of emotions here, I made a friend in Maria, but most of all, I felt safe. Safe from the

When I wake up, it’s bright again, which means that I slept straight through the night. I did dream of Bobby, but it wasn’t the type of dream that I was hoping for. Even while sleeping, the crash haunts me. Images of a wrecked car and Bobby’s small body haunt my mind. After sleeping for so long, I still feel exhausted. I can’t see a way past this, a time when life will feel bearable again, let alone enjoyable. I sit up in bed and wince when I realise that my whole body is still in pain. An attendant comes into the room pushing a trolley. My stomach constricts painfully, reminding me of just how hungry I am. “Good morning, Doll. I brought you some breakfast.” Chimes the woman, her bright smile reaching her eyes.

I wake up to the sound of beeping. The noise is terribly loud and annoying to my ears, making my already sore head ache even more. My eyes feel heavy and I struggle to lift my lids. I blink rapidly from the blinding lights that are directly above me. My whole body aches and I groan in protest. I’m confused as to why I am in a hospital, but then it all comes rushing back to me. The flash of brown fur, the car spinning, the streetlights zooming past my window, and worst of all, Bobby’s terrified screams. Bobby! Ignoring the pain that is pulsing through my body, I sit up and look around frantically. I was hoping Bobby would be here with me, but I am in a room alone. I begin to panic and the beeping of the machine next to my bed becomes more frantic. The door swings open and my hopes are destroyed when I see that it’s not Bobby coming to see me, not even my parents. It’s a nurse who seems too c

I scrub the last dish of the evening with a determination I have never had before. Every Thursday, I volunteer at the homeless shelter, my hours being longer during the school holidays. It’s something I have done for two years now, and something I love very much. I help set up the shelter, serve the food, talk with the people who come in, and help clean up at the end of the day. Today, working at the shelter has been a welcome distraction. No matter what I do, I can’t get Jacob and Bianca out of my head. Even if I could, their nonstop texting and calling wouldn’t allow it. “That’ll do for tonight, Nina.” Says Frank, the head coordinator of the centre.

I’m embarrassed to admit that I haven’t stopped crying all weekend. Luckily, I had this weekend booked off work, thinking that I would probably be having fun with my friends. Instead, I have spent all weekend locked in my bedroom, unable to bear even the thought of being around people right now. The only person to have noticed my misery, is Bobby, but I don’t like him seeing me upset. I did the best I could to put a smile on my face for him. My heart aches, and I hate that Jacob and Bianca have done this to me. Everything is ruined now; nothing will ever be the same again. They have both been calling and texting me all weekend, but I ignored them, unwilling to listen to their pathetic ‘I was drunk’ excuses. When I woke up this morning, I decided that the beginning of this week would mark a new beginni

“Nina! You don’t want to be late to your own party, do you?” My Mom’s shrill voice startles me out of my daydream. I stand in front of the full length mirror in my bedroom, examining my appearance. I have no idea why I chose a pink dress for my 17th Birthday party. I don’t even like the colour pink; my favourite colour is orange. My short, brown curls dance on top of my shoulders, the earrings my parents gifted me sparkling through the strands of hair. Despite the colour, my dress sits perfectly on my body; tight at the waist but flowing out like a princess dress, stopping at my knees to show off my toned calves. Satisfied that I look present