That day I almost had 'fun'. My dad bought me loads of new clothes, and we went out for lunch, and I came home with bags full of stuff. I almost felt spoilt.
"Thanks." I said as I was about to go up to my room and put all my stuff away.
"For what?" He asked, smiling.
"For taking me shopping." I smiled at him. "I had fun."
"I am glad." He said, and walked towards the kitchen. I walked upstairs, and through the clothes onto the bed, and folded them up, putting them into drawers.

Half way through putting them away, my dad came in and made me some coffee.
"Thanks." I smiled. "When are you cooking dinner?"
"In a few minutes." He said. "Why? You hungry?"
"Yeah sort of." I said, and then looked at him. "I used to help mum in the kitchen, a lot."
"Oh right." He said. "You can help me if you want. Im hopeless at cooking. You'll be lucky to get pasta thats not burnt. I would have just taken you out for hotdogs." I shook my head at him.
"I'll cook." I told him. "You watch. Then you might learn something."
"Okay." He laughed, and walked towards the door. Then he turned around and looked at me. "She would be proud you know." He said, and I looked down.
"I hope so." I said, and turned around before he saw my tears fall onto my duvet.

After I put all my clothes away, I went downstairs to see what my dad had in his cupboards. He didn't have much. But I found some spaghetti, tomatoes, onions, herb and cheese. I cut up and skinned the tomatoes and put half in a china dish, then adding spaghetti before frying the onions. I put the fried onions in the spaghettie and mixed it up a bit. Then, I put the rest of the tomatoes on top and then added cheese and herbs.

I let that cook for nearly an hour in the oven, then dished it up hoping that it would taste as good as what me and my mother made.

"Mmmm." My dad said, taking his first mouthful. "Delicious."
"Thanks." I said, not smiling but eating. "Glad you like it."
"Its great." He said. "Never had anything like this."
"Because all you eat is hotdogs." I laughed, and he looked at me.
"Its not my fault I can't cook." He said.
"It is." I told him. "Take a cooking class. If not one of them, then i'll help you."
"Please help." He said to me. "The amount of times I've had food poisoning is unbelievable."
"I can believe that." I said. "What are you even doing cooking meat if you can't even cook pasta?"
"I wanted something different." He smiled.
"Well don't cook meat anymore." I told him. "Im not a good vomit cleaner. I can't stand it."
"Can't you?" He asked. "You wouldn't like the ED then."
"No I wouldn't." I said. "I hate vomit. Its almost like a phobia."
"Emetophobia." My dad said.
"Eh?" I asked, looking at him.
"Fear of vomiting." He said. "Emetophobia."
"Oh, well I have that then." I laughed and finished eating. I saw that he was still eating so I got up, took my plate over to the sink and filled it with hot water.

Shortly after, my dad came out with his plate.
"Oh, you wash up too?" He grinned.
"Yes." I said. "I like to."
"Why?"
"I like things to be clean." I told him. "Can't have them dirty."
"No I like them clean too." He told me.
"No." I shook my head. "I mean they HAVE to be clean. I have OCD."
"Since when?"
"Since forever." I told him. "I've always had it."
"Oh." He said, and watched me wash up. He saw me scrub the plates hard, but secretly I was imagining that they had Matts face on. I saw my dads face. "Careful you don't scrub them thin."
"Sorry." I said. "I imagined Matts face on them." He laughed.
"They will find him Jess." He said to me.
"I hope they do." I said, heartbeat speeding up. What if he came after me?
"They will." He said to me.

I washed up in silence from then on, until dad spoke to me a little while later.
"Thanks." He said. "For the dinner."
"Its fine." I said. "Ill cook tomorrow if you take me food shopping."
"Yeah sure." He told me.
"Tell me what you like to eat and ill make it."
"I don't make a lot, so you get what you like."
"Okay." I said, and yawned. "Im going to bed. Im tired."
"Okay, night." He said, and hugged me. I hugged him back and went upstairs.

I got upstairs, and I let the tears flow again. Dinner wasn't the same without my mum there, especially when that was her recipe. I got dressed, brushed my teeth, and then got into bed, still crying.

I cried myself to sleep again, and saw things I never wanted to see again. These pictures were going to haunt my nightmares.

My mums body, sprawled out on the bed, knowing that her spirit was no longer there.