them away. Seeing them so close, unable to even smile at them was pure
torture.
Sophie was always there, trying to get their attention and patting their
back in solace. Like she gave a shit. Sophie has become a much bigger
problem than I’d anticipated. During the summer, her favorite form of
entertainment was sending me messages and pictures to the t.v. she’d had
installed just for me.
Pictures of her, hanging out with my boys, riding on Alex’s back, her
friends and my boys eating lunch at school. School dances. The worst
though, by far, were the videos.
Videos she must have had help making because she wasn’t holding the
phone. Videos of my boys laughing, flirting, with her and her friends at the
creek.
Videos, of her constantly talking shit about me, telling them how many
times I’d talked to her about not wanting them anymore.
A video, of her giving them the bracelet they gave me back. The bracelet
she stole from me. The bracelet that meant everything to me. I had to watch
as their faces crumpled, and they began to realize that maybe she was right.
Maybe I had changed my mind and didn’t want them.
Seeing them happy though, being around other girls, though twisted the
knife, it also made me realize how selfish I’d been. I never could have
given all three of them the attention they need. They deserved to find
someone that could focus only on them.
After all, I was just a wicked nothing.
The teachers here make sure to spend time one on one with each of us
girls, addressing our problems to help us turn into proper young ladies. In
my case, that means session after session of me being told over and over
that those boys aren’t mine. That I can’t have them. That I needed to admit
my sins and seek penance.
Their brainwashing was starting to work, unfortunately. Mixed with my
insecurities, my cousin’s manipulations, my heart had turned into something
ugly and dark. I wasn’t sure I was capable of making anyone happy
anymore.
I seemed to bring everyone pain and anger.
I go through the motions all day, pinching myself hard enough to bruise
anytime I tried to think about what life would have been like if everything
had been different. Those are dangerous thoughts though. The boys have
already waited two years without a single word from me. Would they still
love me?
Pinch.
They only thought they loved me. You can’t fall in love at 14, 15…I
don’t know when it happened. Or didn’t happen.
Pinch.
My eyes sting with tears as I force myself into today’s history lesson,
making sure my notes are nice and neat so I don’t lose marks. I move to
lunch, getting what’s on offer every single day without fail.
Small salad. Small cup of soup. One packet of crackers. A glass of water.
The teachers tell us that eating excessively is sinful, that we only need
the nourishment they provide. I don’t get hungry anymore, I’ve learned to
adjust to the measly offerings. At least at dinner we get a rotation of foods.
Chicken breast. Bigger salad. Veggie burger. No cheese or condiments, of
course.
I forget what food used to taste like when I could eat whatever I wanted
to.
I place my dirty dishes away, grabbing my backpack and walking calmly
to my next lesson. And my next. Repeat, ad nauseum.
∞∞∞
Another windless Texas day, but at least the fact that it’s winter means
it’s not so stifling in my starched brown cotton dress. I zip up my small
suitcase, packing the only clothes I have left. Plain, shapeless dresses and
high waisted jeans that only fit my form where they buttoned on my waist,
and only then with my tightened belt.
I’ve spent a few years now at the awful drabness of my boarding school,
every student as miserable as the next. There are a couple of my teachers
that remember how to smile at us, how to try and inspire us to learn. Mostly
though, the classes are comprised of drilling facts into us, and punishing us
I’m leaving campus today to travel back home, something I had hoped to
never do again, but the campus closes for winter break and I literally have
nowhere else to go. If I don’t stay with my aunt she’d stop paying tuition,
kick me out on the street.
And let’s be honest, no one else would want to take me in. Once upon a
time, maybe the parents of those friends I had would have enjoyed that, but
I don’t even like my own company anymore. I’ve realized how much I tried
to ruin the lives of those friends, and after all the stories I’ve gotten from
my cousin, I see they’re happy. So, I need to let them go.
My last visit home. I had about four months after I returned to campus to
figure out where life would take me after graduation. Lord knows I couldn’t
go back to my hometown. Too many memories, too much pain. Too much
longing for that which I’ll never be able to have.
The bus ride is long and boring, but at least I’m left alone. I busy myself
with sketching what little happy memories I have from my childhood,
allowing myself to reminisce and seek enjoyment from my short little life
there in ink and paper only.
My aunt picks me up at the station, hurrying me home. She says I need to
go through anything my father or mother left in the house because she
wants to sell it. Father has not been doing well in prison, last I heard he had
fallen ill, and my aunt seems to think he won’t be returning.
Well, at least there’s some good news. But why she thinks I’d want
anything from him is beyond me. Momma, maybe. Doubtful my aunt would
let me have anything of value though. And whatever I took had to fit in my
small suitcase.
The house holds as many ghosts as I remembered, though it’s the thought
of what lay beyond the property that has my stomach clenching in pain. The
tree. That damned tree that liked to tease me when I slept.
That tree that I could just see the top of from my old bedroom, the one
with nice furniture and carpet. Not the one that ruined me, nor the one my
aunt kept me prisoner in. My aunt made me wait until nightfall to pick me
up, unwilling to be seen with me in daylight.
I don’t blame her anymore, did I ever? Sophie seems to be missing,
which means I get to make it all the way to my attic room somewhat
unbothered. My aunt storms inside, leaving me to gather my things and find
my own way in.
I hesitate for just a moment, letting myself dream. What would happen if
I just ran? Ran and ran and never came back. Sure, I had nowhere to go. I
let myself imagine that somewhere out there is an opportunity for me to
figure out how to be happy again. To find somebody that might love me.
Then I pinch myself because those thoughts were dangerous.
Nearly as dangerous as the shadows lingering at the house. I stare,
frozen. It takes me a few minutes to decide if they’re real or if I’ve finally
broken and have imagined them into being. Nothing in my memories is as
good as
their voices though, even if they’ve lost the youthful carefree
timbres that always plague my conscience.
“Mils?”
I haven’t been called that in years. I don’t use my voice too much, it only
gets me in trouble at school and no one else bothers addressing me. I remain
rooted to the spot, not sure how to interact with the dark angels in front of
me.
They step forward, I step back, scared at what they expect from me. It
isn’t until I feel water fall onto my shaking hand that I realize I’m crying. I
haven’t cried in a long time either.
“You look different.”
“I…”
I have to look between the three of them, mutilating my arm with bruises
as I tell myself over and over I can’t have them.
“Oh my God, what are you doing? Stop! You’re hurting yourself!”
Cameron, the sweet one, the boy who…pinch. I can’t let my body
remember how good his hands felt on me.
“Sorry. I…should probably get inside.”
I make a move to head inside, a rough calloused hand stopping me, blue
eyes nearly glowing under the moonlight.
“Don’t. Go, I mean. Don’t you love us anymore?”
My legs collapse and gravel assaults me, but it’s my racing heart I’m
most worried about.
“I’m not good enough for you. Any of you. I…you…you should all
forget about me.”
The last figure sits behind me, his profile harsher than I remember. My
fingers trace his eyebrow piercing and sharp strands of black hair, the
cheekbones that used to be so good at comforting me and rubbing along my
neck.
A sob escapes and tremors run through my body, and I hate that the last
image they’ll have of me is how broken I’ve become. I’ve even ruined our
childhood for them now because they see how worthless I am.
“Beautiful, look at me. For God’s sake, look at me. Please.”
His voice breaks and I allow myself to rest my forehead against his, even
knowing how much pain I’ll have to go through when I detox from them
again.
“Mils, you have no idea how much I’ve missed you. How much all of us
have needed you.”
My aunt reappears in the doorway and I scramble out of Constantine’s
arms, grabbing fistfuls of flesh now to punish myself for my weakness.
They’re not mine.
“Wait!”
“Remove yourselves from my property or I will involve the police. My
niece is no longer your concern.”
My aunt yanks me inside, my suitcase forgotten as she half drags me
upstairs. She slaps me across the face as she locks me inside my room, but I
don’t feel it. I’ve already made myself numb.
I lay on the floor, knowing the hardness of the dusty pine floor is all I
deserve for my weakness. The lumpy mattress is going to have to wait until
I’ve earned it.
I hear yelling outside, anger. My angels shouldn’t sound angry. Don’t
they see I’ve cut them loose? That they should be happy that I don’t burden
them with my jagged edges? Soon the purr of a motorcycle roars to life,
accompanied by a beat up truck I’d recognize anywhere.
I clutch my stomach, knowing the lack of food today is providing pain
that keeps me from getting too comfortable. My aunt always tells me how
useless I am, what a disappointment I’ve turned into. I let those words
soothe me to sleep, back against the wall as I watch the muddy moonlight
filter through the small circular window that’s probably never been cleaned.
My dreams are murky, a perpetual nighttime that follows me around. I
find comfort in the lack of light, no one can see me to highlight my
shortcomings if it’s dark. Warm, glowing figures remain just out of reach,
mocking me.
Even my dream self recognizes how unlikely it was to ever think I’d be
able to find a future with them. The pain of a broken heart is my constant
companion now, something that reminds me I’m still breathing.
Pain that chokes me, even in my sleep. I cough, seeking enough oxygen
to extend my life. The figures grow more frantic and the room I’m in gets
warmer than it should. Something pulls me to wakefulness, and I open my
eyes to realize I’m in an entirely new hell.
The smoke is leaking through the gaps in my doorway, circling through
the stale air surrounding me. The heat is real, the floors underneath me
feeling like a warm hearth. Which should scare me. Maybe it does.
I get up calmly, looking around the room for an explanation. I can just
see through the window, and bright flames leap up at me from the ground
floor. They seem friendly and I’m mesmerized by how they dance in the
night.
I walk to my door, unsurprised when I find it locked. It’s not until the
door becomes covered in flames that I snap out of my haze and find panic
waiting for me. A wall of flames blocks me in, the window I looked
through much too small for my hips to fit through. I back against the wall,
praying that somehow I find a way out of this.
The flames creep closer, consuming the dry wood beams on the ceiling,
sending them crashing down and catapulting sparks into the air. I let out a
scream, the first scream I’ve allowed since my father tried to break me. My
eyes feel like they’re being burned out of my skull, and I fall as I flail
around, searching for any sort of relief.
Later I’ll be able to remember I started hearing sirens, the hopeful call of
incoming help, but at that moment all I can focus on is the pain that is
consuming me.
I’m trapped, my legs pinned by something heavy, my body quickly
growing weaker. Finally, peaceful oblivion.
Theo
Something is pulling at my gut, telling me the fire engine isn’t moving
quickly enough to reach the house in time. The second the brakes are
engaged, my crewmates are on top of it, pulling out the hoses and dousing
the flames as fast as possible. I’m there to search for bodies. Surely that’s
all that can exist at this point.
My flame-proof suit is barely fully on before I’m sprinting through the
house, risking the stairs to seek out someone. Anyone. I hear an inhuman
scream and my heart pounds as I try to make it on time, my whole life
coming to a stop when I see a petite figure thrashing before falling still.
She’s over my shoulder as I run blindly through the flames separating us,
hanging like a ragdoll as I try to get us both outside in time. I can feel the
house is about ready to give up, and the stairs collapse after each step I take
like a well-choreographed video game.
My mask prevents me from inhaling smoke, but it’s not me I’m worried
about. Whoever this girl is, is bloody and badly burned, but I don’t have
time to assess her right now.
I bound through the open front wall where a door once existed, my only
focus now on the ambulance and medics waiting for a job. Gently as I can, I
lay her on the gurney, my breath catching as I take her in. She’s gorgeous.
Like shouldn’t-be-real kind of beauty that you normally associate with
movie stars. Even with all the blood and ash mar
ring her skin.
Except her frail body is covered in the worst burns imaginable, and I
nearly collapse as the EMTs work over her. She gets oxygen and they begin
their assessment, wheeling her into the back of the ambulance and I follow
her without even meaning to. The medics shoot me a look but all I can
focus on is the slight rise and fall of her chest, the way her body further
relaxes when they start administering drugs to get her comfortable.
I know I have no right to be waiting around for the girl while she’s in
surgery, but no one else is here for her. Why isn’t there a big family here
crying over the state of this woman? Why is no one else in this room as on-
edge as I am as the world seems to tilt and freeze?
It’s been hours and I’ve thrown up a few times from the worry. She has to
make it. I don’t even know her name, but I already know I can’t leave her.
My boss keeps trying to get me to come back in, but I can’t.
Someone shakes me awake from the creaky vinyl chair I’m slumped over
in, a nurse.
“Mr. Adams? Your girlfriend is done with surgery, she’s in rough
condition but she’s in ICU now.”
I take a full breath, praising the powers that be that this soul is still on the
earth.
“C-can I see her?”
The nurse studies me for a moment. I don’t correct her, don’t tell her that
I don’t even know her. How do I explain how I feel right now in a way that
won’t get me thrown out of the hospital? And then what would happen?
“We were able to track down an aunt, someone that lived at the house,
but she told us she’s unable to make it in.”
I want to punch the wall. This girl doesn’t deserve to be deserted at a
time like this.
“Doesn’t seem like she has any other family, but she’s going to need a
friend. Amelia has a long road ahead of her if she wants to regain a normal
life.”
Constantine
So many times I’d almost given up my restraint to put Amelia’s aunt in
her place. It would likely put me in jail, but I’m at the point where the
satisfaction of seeing her struck down would be more than worth it. There
was something completely evil underneath the thin veneer she offered the
world, and for some reason she had decided my girl was going to pay for