Ella flew up the stairs, taking them two, three, sometimes even four at a time. She was running away from her older brother, come home for a summer vacation after his first year of college. Her breathing was heavy from sprinting through the house, but she wore a huge grin on her face. Kyle had been gone for six months this time! She had missed him so much, even though most people thought she was crazy, she was a sixteen year old girl after all, shouldn’t she fight with her brother all the time? Well, yeah, the two of them had had their share of arguments when Kyle and Ella were little, but once Ella got passed elementary school the two became best friends. Kyle’s freshman year of college had been difficult for Ella to get through, it was such a drastic change, but now he was home for three months!
Ella looked behind her once she reached the top of the stairs, giggling as she saw that her brother was so far behind that he wasn’t even in view. She ran into her bedroom, and shut the door. When she turned around Ella found Kyle sitting on the edge of her bed, in the dark, and she let out a half mock, half real scream. Kyle jumped off of the bed and picked Ella up, swinging her over his shoulder. She laughed, and playfully punched his back, telling him to put her down, but of course he didn’t.
Kyle walked all the way down the stairs and into the back yard with Ella, and when the two reached their pool, he climbed up onto the diving board, and through his sister in.
“Kyle!” Ella squealed after resurfacing, “You are so lucky my phone wasn’t in my pocket!”
“How could it be? It’s in mine!” Kyle laughed, pulling her phone out of his own pant pocket and placing it on the patio table.
“Wait. Do you have your phone on you right now?”
“Nope, it died on the way here, so I just put it in my suitcase. Why?”
“Good.” Ella climbed out of the pool and ran over to her brother, giving him a big hug, “I missed you so much!”
“No, no!” Kyle protested, not wanting to get wet. When it was too late he laughed and said “I’ve missed you too, El-El.” After a few moments Ella let go of Kyle, and turned to go back inside, but before she got very far, she spun around and ran back towards her big brother, shoving him into the pool. As he was falling in, Kyle grabbed Ella’s wrist, and she came in too.
“Gotcha!” She shouted when they had both come back up.
“You’re so in for it now!” Kyle laughed, and sent a huge splash of water in Ella’s direction. The two siblings spent all afternoon in the pool, splashing each other and having a good time. It had been a long school year.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Monday, June 13, 2011
Real or Costume?
They had nothing more to say to each other. Nothing at all. Emma and Elizabeth stood glaring at one another for a few more moments before each girl turned on their heal and marched in opposite directions. Emma couldn’t believe that Elizabeth would stab her in the back like that. Elizabeth didn’t understand why Emma was so angry about something so trivial. What was going on here?
“And then she had the nerve to ask me why I was so angry!” Emma said into the phone receiver a few hours later, talking to one of her other friends. “Like, seriously? That was the locket from my mom, from before, you know, the accident! And Elizabeth lost it! She knew how important that was to me. That girl didn’t even have the nerve to ask to borrow it, and then she just loses it! Ridiculous!”
“Mom! I don’t even know why she’s so mad!” Elizabeth cries to her mother, trying to hold back her tears. “She just started yelling at me! I only borrowed her show necklace, it wasn’t like it was expensive or anything! I could go to the costume store and buy a brand new one to replace it. I didn’t lose anything like the one that her mom gave her before she died! How could she do this to me?”
These two fourteen year old girls were in the middle of a Junior High School crisis. Maybe I’ll revisit their story later, maybe not. This idea came off of http://www.creativewritingprompts.com, number 161.
“And then she had the nerve to ask me why I was so angry!” Emma said into the phone receiver a few hours later, talking to one of her other friends. “Like, seriously? That was the locket from my mom, from before, you know, the accident! And Elizabeth lost it! She knew how important that was to me. That girl didn’t even have the nerve to ask to borrow it, and then she just loses it! Ridiculous!”
“Mom! I don’t even know why she’s so mad!” Elizabeth cries to her mother, trying to hold back her tears. “She just started yelling at me! I only borrowed her show necklace, it wasn’t like it was expensive or anything! I could go to the costume store and buy a brand new one to replace it. I didn’t lose anything like the one that her mom gave her before she died! How could she do this to me?”
These two fourteen year old girls were in the middle of a Junior High School crisis. Maybe I’ll revisit their story later, maybe not. This idea came off of http://www.creativewritingprompts.com, number 161.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Dabbling in Poetry
Written today during English class...
Written a while ago (I need to start putting dates in my journal)...
Written even a longer time ago...
For someone who's so hesitant to love,
You're quick to hate.
Open you're eyes and look all around you,
You are surrounded by suffering and pain.
We've all got lessons to learn and people to meet,
And for some uknown reason our paths have crossed.
See the people holding back tears,
Watch the girl trying to be strong.
We're all in the midst of sorrowful times.
Please, learn to love, please,
There's no more room in this world,
for your hate, like daggers.
Written a while ago (I need to start putting dates in my journal)...
Taking control of her life again,
She holds her head up high and smiles,
daring life's challenges to try and destroy her.
She will not give up,
She will not allow herself to be hurt.
Once again she will lead her life,
She will be the rock for so many others,
She will no longer let life slip through her fingers.
The visions of depression all but a sad memory,
reminding her of the past.
Never again will she allow that to happen,
Never again will she quit the battle,
Never again will she lose control.
Written even a longer time ago...
Snow, falling ever so lightly,
Winter, creeping so quietly.
I close my eyes,
letting it all dissappear.
I stop and listen,
memorizing all of the sounds.
The cold bites my fingertips,
And I hold back tears
as I walk away,
Leaving it all behind.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Friday the Thirteenth
It was kind of chilly out for late Spring, and the wind blew lightly all around us, but as the four of us pulled our sweatshirts on we continued to laugh and make our way to “the spot”. Theresa, Liz, Nate, and I had been going to “the spot” since we discovered it on one of our exploration expeditions when we were eight years old. It was this really neat tree in the forest behind central park, really easy to climb, and perfect to sit in and hang out. It seemed like there was a curtain of leaves surrounding us, from the top of the tree to the forest floor. We almost always waited until after dark, or close to it, to go on the arduous hike to our special tree, mostly because that’s what made it special. The leaf curtains seemed to shut out anything that could be lurking in the dark.
“Oh c’mon, Carmen, you can’t be serious! You know we won’t make fun of you!” Liz said, trying to get me to do the dance that I had learned a couple of days ago in gym class.
“No, no way! You guys will totally make fun of me! You always do!” I laughed, this was our usual group banter, laughing about one thing or another.
“Oh my goodness! Do you guys remember the dance from that party at the beach last Summer?” Theresa asked us all.
“Oh yeah! Carmen, there is no possible way that you could look any more ridiculous doing this dance than you did dancing at that party!” Nate pointed out.
“Ugh! Don’t remind me. How in the world did you guys let me do that! It was horrible.” Even though I was trying to sound angry, the words came out between bursts of laughter as my mind recalled the horrid dance that I had done. I was in that phase where I thought that I could make anything I did look great. It’s too bad that I realized that that wasn’t possible about three days after that party.
We finally reached “the spot,” and Nate held the branches out of the way as we climbed underneath and into our refuge of eight years. It was pretty late out, around eleven thirty or midnight. Since it was a Friday night we had all been hanging out with people, but the four of us had decided that we’d go to “the spot” afterwards anyway. Our parents weren’t always happy when we made these decisions, but since we were sixteen they had all allowed us to do pretty much what we wanted when we wanted, so long as the four of us were together. Through the years everyone’s parents began to trust us all, and they all liked each of us a lot.
Theresa began nimbly climbing the tree, to the highest sitting spot that we figured we could reach and still be safe; I followed, sitting on the rather large branch just below where Theresa was perched. Liz sat beside me, since the branch was so big, and Nate, being the daredevil that he was, decided that he was going to try something new. He climbed a couple of feet about Theresa, and made himself comfortable.
“Nate…” I warned, ever the cautious one.
“Chill, Carmen, you know I’ll be fine.”
“Well, yeah.” I had no choice but to agree. Nate had never fallen from any of the trees we climbed. Never.
“You better be careful, though, bud. It is Friday the thirteenth.” Theresa joked.
We sat in the tree for an hour or so, laughing and having a good time. We reminisced our best memories, our biggest mistakes, and we realized that now it all seemed so funny with the perspective of a few years.
“Wait. Guys. Shh….” I said after a particularly loud bout of laughter.
“What?” Liz asked.
“I heard something,” Everybody grew silent, “There! Did you hear it? There it is again!” It was a kind of popping sound that I was hearing; it reminded me of the fireworks on the Fourth of July. Or, as I thought about it, it sounded a whole lot like the noise of a gunshot. It didn’t come from nearby, and it was probably nothing to worry about, but I grew anxious and restless anyway.
“Oh that’s nothing! Relax. It’s probably just some of the seniors playing late night basketball again.” Theresa said after a moment.
“I don’t know…maybe we better head back to the park,” I suggested. Everybody seemed kind of reluctant, but as the noise started again, this time seeming closer than before, I began to rush everybody. “Please, let’s go. Now.” I quickly climbed off of the tree, jumping a little higher than I usually would in order to speed up the process. I looked back into the tree. My friends hadn’t moved.
“Carmen, seriously, it’s fine, don’t get too keyed up,” Nate said. I wasn’t a very superstitious person, but I had kind of been a little bit creeped out since Theresa pointed out that it was Friday the thirteenth earlier.
“No, please,” I begged, “Please, before I have an anxiety attack and pass out.” My worrywart side was beginning to show, and I began to breathe heavily and unevenly. “Guys,”
“Alright, alright, relax.” Theresa said, and she began to climb down, Liz following closely. “C’mon, Nate, Carmen is really freaking out.”
“I would, but, well, I’m stuck.” I groaned, and began to repeat “It’s alright” over and over under my breath as Theresa and Liz guided Nate down.
“Okay, let’s go!” I said the minute Nate jumped out of the tree. I wanted to get out of there as fast as possible, but I didn’t want to go first. Theresa led the way, and we left “the spot” and walked back into the forest. “Oh my goodness, Oh my goodness,” I muttered, trying to keep myself semi-calm.
I felt a tap on my right shoulder and screamed. When I whipped my head around to see what had just tapped me, nothing was there. Whimpering, I turned back to face my friends, only to find Nate laughing hysterically. “Was that you?!” I slapped his arm, “That wasn’t funny!”
“Sorry, Carmen,” He said, still laughing.
We continued through the forest, and I began to think that maybe it was a bad idea to come here so late. It was far enough away from anybody else that even if we screamed out during the day for help it would be difficult to hear us, but at night with everyone asleep it was all but impossible. I heard a rustle in the bushes and jumped, but my common sense told me that it was just a bird or rabbit or something. Well, that is, until it was accompanied by a loud growl.
I screeched and grabbed Liz’s arm, but she began to laugh, along with Nate and Theresa. The three of them exchanged high fives. “I hate you guys!” I was kind of laughing, kind of hyperventilating, but they knew that I didn’t seriously hate them. I picked up speed, and the other three soon followed suit.
After about three or four minutes, there was another tap on my shoulder. “Nate, that isn’t funny anymore!”
“What are you talking about?”
“You tapped my shoulder!”
“That wasn’t me…” He said, and the four of us stopped dead in our tracks.
“Then what was it?” Theresa asked, her voice quavering. We all turned around, there was nothing but the darkness of the forest surrounding us, or so we thought.
Something, or someone, was running towards us, we could hear the twigs and dead leaves being stepped on. Theresa, Liz, Nate, and I began to sprint, completely terrified. Whatever was chasing us, though, was much faster, and after a few minutes we could hear it right on our tracks. None of us wanted to turn around to see exactly what we were running from, because it would slow us down.
It turned out that it didn’t matter though, there were a few moments when our attacker stopped running, and then suddenly there was a huge impact that sent the four of us flying towards the ground. It was a wolf-like thing, but about three times bigger, with claws longer than my forearms. Werewolf, was the first thought that came to mind.
The werewolf charged back at us, attacking me, and clawing at my skin. It tore my flesh open, and I could see blood pouring from my body. Liz, Theresa, and Nate recovered as quickly as possible and tried to pull the thing off of me, quite a courageous thing to do. I kind of wished that they would just run, because as scared as I was for my own life, I was terrified for theirs. The werewolf merely snarled at them and went back to attacking me, though. Liz began searching around, for what, I did not know.
She finally came back with a rather large tree branch in her hand, and smacked the werewolf right on its head. It didn’t appear to be super hurt, but boy was it angry. The wolf charged Liz and knocked her to the ground. I tried to stand up, but I couldn’t, I actually felt kind of dizzy. Nate ran over to me, saying that everything was going to be alright, telling me not to move, but in all honesty, I was more worried about Liz. Theresa was trying to distract the werewolf, but it was to no avail.
Shortly after the creature had turned on Liz, I began to hear those gun-like popping noises from before. I whimpered, not willing to take anymore adventure, though it isn’t like I really had a choice. Then, all of a sudden, the werewolf was gone. It had just disappeared, poof!
“What the heck?” Nate muttered.
“Are you kids okay?” A voice said from just beyond where we could see.
“Errr…not really.” Theresa replied. Then there was a middle aged man carrying a gun who came through the trees. He had salt and pepper hair, and laugh lines on his face.
“Holy…” The man said when he saw me and Liz. Liz though hurt did not seem to be in as bad a condition as I was. She was standing up, and it didn’t look like the werewolf had hit her in that many places.
“Please, call 911, or anything. Please do something!” Nate pleaded with the man, glancing down at me.
“Right, okay,” He flipped open a cell phone and dialed 911, “We need an ambulance at central park, now. I’m not quite sure, but please hurry!” He clicked the phone shut and turned to look at the four of us again. “Who are you kids anyway, and what are you doing here so late?”
“Who are you?” Liz replied, defensively.
“I’m George Willowberg. I live a mile or so in that direction.”
“Did you, shoot that thing?” I managed to say.
“Yes, I did. It comes around here every Friday the thirteenth, and each time I shoot it and it disappears until next time. Now, are you all going to answer my questions?”
“Oh, well, I’m Theresa, this is Liz, Nate, and Carmen. We hang out here a lot, and usually nothing happens, it’s just this time, well, you see,” She gestured to me. I was beginning to get blind spots in my vision, and I could still feel blood dripping from the many gashes in my skin. I moaned.
“We need to get her into the park, where the ambulance will be able to get to her.”
“How?” Nate asked helplessly.
“We’ll have to carry her. But we need to use the utmost caution, do you see how much blood she’s lost, it’s surprising that she hasn’t already passed out.” My three friends and George circled around me, trying to figure out how to transport me without causing any more damage. Somewhere between then and actually being put in the ambulance, I passed out.
Waking up in a hospital room surrounded by my family, Theresa, Nate, and Liz was kind of disorienting at first, but then the events that had occurred began to replay in my mind. Liz had her arm in a sling, but other than that looked okay. Everything came back to me, like a horror film.
“Oh my gosh.” I whispered before passing out again.
“Oh c’mon, Carmen, you can’t be serious! You know we won’t make fun of you!” Liz said, trying to get me to do the dance that I had learned a couple of days ago in gym class.
“No, no way! You guys will totally make fun of me! You always do!” I laughed, this was our usual group banter, laughing about one thing or another.
“Oh my goodness! Do you guys remember the dance from that party at the beach last Summer?” Theresa asked us all.
“Oh yeah! Carmen, there is no possible way that you could look any more ridiculous doing this dance than you did dancing at that party!” Nate pointed out.
“Ugh! Don’t remind me. How in the world did you guys let me do that! It was horrible.” Even though I was trying to sound angry, the words came out between bursts of laughter as my mind recalled the horrid dance that I had done. I was in that phase where I thought that I could make anything I did look great. It’s too bad that I realized that that wasn’t possible about three days after that party.
We finally reached “the spot,” and Nate held the branches out of the way as we climbed underneath and into our refuge of eight years. It was pretty late out, around eleven thirty or midnight. Since it was a Friday night we had all been hanging out with people, but the four of us had decided that we’d go to “the spot” afterwards anyway. Our parents weren’t always happy when we made these decisions, but since we were sixteen they had all allowed us to do pretty much what we wanted when we wanted, so long as the four of us were together. Through the years everyone’s parents began to trust us all, and they all liked each of us a lot.
Theresa began nimbly climbing the tree, to the highest sitting spot that we figured we could reach and still be safe; I followed, sitting on the rather large branch just below where Theresa was perched. Liz sat beside me, since the branch was so big, and Nate, being the daredevil that he was, decided that he was going to try something new. He climbed a couple of feet about Theresa, and made himself comfortable.
“Nate…” I warned, ever the cautious one.
“Chill, Carmen, you know I’ll be fine.”
“Well, yeah.” I had no choice but to agree. Nate had never fallen from any of the trees we climbed. Never.
“You better be careful, though, bud. It is Friday the thirteenth.” Theresa joked.
We sat in the tree for an hour or so, laughing and having a good time. We reminisced our best memories, our biggest mistakes, and we realized that now it all seemed so funny with the perspective of a few years.
“Wait. Guys. Shh….” I said after a particularly loud bout of laughter.
“What?” Liz asked.
“I heard something,” Everybody grew silent, “There! Did you hear it? There it is again!” It was a kind of popping sound that I was hearing; it reminded me of the fireworks on the Fourth of July. Or, as I thought about it, it sounded a whole lot like the noise of a gunshot. It didn’t come from nearby, and it was probably nothing to worry about, but I grew anxious and restless anyway.
“Oh that’s nothing! Relax. It’s probably just some of the seniors playing late night basketball again.” Theresa said after a moment.
“I don’t know…maybe we better head back to the park,” I suggested. Everybody seemed kind of reluctant, but as the noise started again, this time seeming closer than before, I began to rush everybody. “Please, let’s go. Now.” I quickly climbed off of the tree, jumping a little higher than I usually would in order to speed up the process. I looked back into the tree. My friends hadn’t moved.
“Carmen, seriously, it’s fine, don’t get too keyed up,” Nate said. I wasn’t a very superstitious person, but I had kind of been a little bit creeped out since Theresa pointed out that it was Friday the thirteenth earlier.
“No, please,” I begged, “Please, before I have an anxiety attack and pass out.” My worrywart side was beginning to show, and I began to breathe heavily and unevenly. “Guys,”
“Alright, alright, relax.” Theresa said, and she began to climb down, Liz following closely. “C’mon, Nate, Carmen is really freaking out.”
“I would, but, well, I’m stuck.” I groaned, and began to repeat “It’s alright” over and over under my breath as Theresa and Liz guided Nate down.
“Okay, let’s go!” I said the minute Nate jumped out of the tree. I wanted to get out of there as fast as possible, but I didn’t want to go first. Theresa led the way, and we left “the spot” and walked back into the forest. “Oh my goodness, Oh my goodness,” I muttered, trying to keep myself semi-calm.
I felt a tap on my right shoulder and screamed. When I whipped my head around to see what had just tapped me, nothing was there. Whimpering, I turned back to face my friends, only to find Nate laughing hysterically. “Was that you?!” I slapped his arm, “That wasn’t funny!”
“Sorry, Carmen,” He said, still laughing.
We continued through the forest, and I began to think that maybe it was a bad idea to come here so late. It was far enough away from anybody else that even if we screamed out during the day for help it would be difficult to hear us, but at night with everyone asleep it was all but impossible. I heard a rustle in the bushes and jumped, but my common sense told me that it was just a bird or rabbit or something. Well, that is, until it was accompanied by a loud growl.
I screeched and grabbed Liz’s arm, but she began to laugh, along with Nate and Theresa. The three of them exchanged high fives. “I hate you guys!” I was kind of laughing, kind of hyperventilating, but they knew that I didn’t seriously hate them. I picked up speed, and the other three soon followed suit.
After about three or four minutes, there was another tap on my shoulder. “Nate, that isn’t funny anymore!”
“What are you talking about?”
“You tapped my shoulder!”
“That wasn’t me…” He said, and the four of us stopped dead in our tracks.
“Then what was it?” Theresa asked, her voice quavering. We all turned around, there was nothing but the darkness of the forest surrounding us, or so we thought.
Something, or someone, was running towards us, we could hear the twigs and dead leaves being stepped on. Theresa, Liz, Nate, and I began to sprint, completely terrified. Whatever was chasing us, though, was much faster, and after a few minutes we could hear it right on our tracks. None of us wanted to turn around to see exactly what we were running from, because it would slow us down.
It turned out that it didn’t matter though, there were a few moments when our attacker stopped running, and then suddenly there was a huge impact that sent the four of us flying towards the ground. It was a wolf-like thing, but about three times bigger, with claws longer than my forearms. Werewolf, was the first thought that came to mind.
The werewolf charged back at us, attacking me, and clawing at my skin. It tore my flesh open, and I could see blood pouring from my body. Liz, Theresa, and Nate recovered as quickly as possible and tried to pull the thing off of me, quite a courageous thing to do. I kind of wished that they would just run, because as scared as I was for my own life, I was terrified for theirs. The werewolf merely snarled at them and went back to attacking me, though. Liz began searching around, for what, I did not know.
She finally came back with a rather large tree branch in her hand, and smacked the werewolf right on its head. It didn’t appear to be super hurt, but boy was it angry. The wolf charged Liz and knocked her to the ground. I tried to stand up, but I couldn’t, I actually felt kind of dizzy. Nate ran over to me, saying that everything was going to be alright, telling me not to move, but in all honesty, I was more worried about Liz. Theresa was trying to distract the werewolf, but it was to no avail.
Shortly after the creature had turned on Liz, I began to hear those gun-like popping noises from before. I whimpered, not willing to take anymore adventure, though it isn’t like I really had a choice. Then, all of a sudden, the werewolf was gone. It had just disappeared, poof!
“What the heck?” Nate muttered.
“Are you kids okay?” A voice said from just beyond where we could see.
“Errr…not really.” Theresa replied. Then there was a middle aged man carrying a gun who came through the trees. He had salt and pepper hair, and laugh lines on his face.
“Holy…” The man said when he saw me and Liz. Liz though hurt did not seem to be in as bad a condition as I was. She was standing up, and it didn’t look like the werewolf had hit her in that many places.
“Please, call 911, or anything. Please do something!” Nate pleaded with the man, glancing down at me.
“Right, okay,” He flipped open a cell phone and dialed 911, “We need an ambulance at central park, now. I’m not quite sure, but please hurry!” He clicked the phone shut and turned to look at the four of us again. “Who are you kids anyway, and what are you doing here so late?”
“Who are you?” Liz replied, defensively.
“I’m George Willowberg. I live a mile or so in that direction.”
“Did you, shoot that thing?” I managed to say.
“Yes, I did. It comes around here every Friday the thirteenth, and each time I shoot it and it disappears until next time. Now, are you all going to answer my questions?”
“Oh, well, I’m Theresa, this is Liz, Nate, and Carmen. We hang out here a lot, and usually nothing happens, it’s just this time, well, you see,” She gestured to me. I was beginning to get blind spots in my vision, and I could still feel blood dripping from the many gashes in my skin. I moaned.
“We need to get her into the park, where the ambulance will be able to get to her.”
“How?” Nate asked helplessly.
“We’ll have to carry her. But we need to use the utmost caution, do you see how much blood she’s lost, it’s surprising that she hasn’t already passed out.” My three friends and George circled around me, trying to figure out how to transport me without causing any more damage. Somewhere between then and actually being put in the ambulance, I passed out.
Waking up in a hospital room surrounded by my family, Theresa, Nate, and Liz was kind of disorienting at first, but then the events that had occurred began to replay in my mind. Liz had her arm in a sling, but other than that looked okay. Everything came back to me, like a horror film.
“Oh my gosh.” I whispered before passing out again.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
No Matter What
It was the first concert that I’d been at since my best friend, Rachelle, had died about seven months ago. My other friends who had been dealing with the grief of her sudden death at sixteen years old much better than I had convinced me that the annual town concert would be great. All of our families would be there, though most of them tended to stay by the picnic tables mingling while us teens made our way through the mob in front of the stage. Each year was a new band, and they were always awesome, and usually a great up and coming band!
Even though it seemed as though my heartache over Rachelle’s death would never go away I eventually was able to shove my sadness to the back of my mind for brief periods of time. Everybody from town was going, even Rachelle’s parents and younger sister would be there, and if they could do it, then so could I. Jared, the son of my parents best friends who had been like a brother to me since I was born, had promised to stay with me the entire time. Our friends Sydney, Alyssa, and Mark sat with us during the picnic too.
There was so much hype about this year’s picnic and concert that when the day finally arrived I was actually somewhat excited for it. My parents, my twin kid brothers, and I loaded up in the van and drove down the street to pick up Jared and his parents before setting off on the half hour long ride to the festivities. My mind wandered, and I wasn’t too sad for the majority of the day.
The afternoon was awesome. My family, friends, and I all played the usual games like the three legged race, the sack race, water balloon toss, and so many others. There was an abundance of food, as there is every year. Hot dogs, hamburgers, potato salad, coleslaw, watermelon, brownies, the works. I felt such a great sense of nostalgia, and though there were a few times throughout the day that I would look over my left shoulder to say something to Rachelle and a sudden swoop of misery would descend on me for a few moments before I was able to recompose myself, it turned out to be great.
Around the time the sun began to set everybody started to clean up the mess from dinner, the band began to start setting up on stage.
“Here, Mom, let me get that,” I said to my mom who was trying to carry six or seven dirty plates and a potato salad bowl in the same hand.
“No, no, no, you go on to the front of the stage with your friends, we’re fine here.”
“Are you sure, Mrs. Hale?” Jared asked.
“Yeah, we could stay and help if you wanted,” Sydney offered, sounding reluctant, but willing to help anyway.
“Oh it’s fine, you five go ahead down, have a good time. I’m going to keep the twins up here with us. Why don’t you meet us here after the concert is over?”
“Thanks, Mrs. Hale!” Mark and Alyssa said at the same time.
“Thanks, Mom,” I smiled and we all headed towards the stage.
A huge crowd had already formed, and we had to push and shove our way towards the front. It was nothing new, the same thing happened every year, the difference this year being that we didn’t have flamboyant Rachelle here to lead us through. We were usually pretty lucky, though, almost every year we had been able to push our ways to the very front of the crowd, and this year was the same. Adrenaline pumped through my veins as the band began to play. This year’s band wasn’t as well known, but from the start of the concert they sounded awesome. The band name was Fatal Formation. It was such a cool event. The stage was full sized, with camera screens on both sides and camera men in every direction to capture the faces of everyone in our town.
The first few songs were original songs written by Fatal Formation, and they were fist pumping, jump up and down songs. Already we were in love with the band. Throughout the whole concert they went back and forth between original songs and covers of popular songs. When the lead singer announced that this next song would be the last there was a collective groan from the entire crowd.
“Hey everyone! You all have been such an awesome audience tonight! We’d like to leave you with a cover of “Open Arms” by Journey. We know it’s kind of old, but we hope that you like it!”
My breathing started to come heavily as they played the first few notes of the ballad. This had been Rachelle’s favorite song, and even before she died I had always connected it to my memories of things we did together. Tears welled up in my eyes, and by the time that the first line of lyrics had been sung I was sobbing.
Jared turned and looked at me and immediately he embraced me. I buried my face into his shoulder and continued to cry.
“I miss her so much,” I managed to say between gasps. Jared murmured something in my ear that I’m sure was meant to be comforting, but I couldn’t hear exactly what he was saying over the volume of the speakers. I cried and cried, even after the song was over. As the Fatal Formation began to leave the stage the crowd cheered “One more song!” over and over again until the band started back up.
“This one is to you,” the lead singer said, “To that girl on the screen who’s been crying into her guy’s shoulder since the beginning of “Open Arms”. It’s going to be alright, especially when you have friends like him who are going to be there no matter what.” I looked up from Jared’s shoulder to see my tear streaked face on the camera screens as the band began to play “The Heart of Life” by John Mayer.
I was shocked that they had seen me, and somewhat embarrassed, but most of all I was thankful. Thankful that I had people like Jared in my life, who were there whenever and wherever I needed them. Thankful that I had what time there was with Rachelle, and thankful that the memories of her will never fade. I was thankful for the abundance of good things in my life, despite the blindness that I oh so often have to it all. As this blanket of thankfulness enveloped me, I buried my head into Jared’s shoulder once more, and let out a few more tears. I still missed Rachelle, I would no matter what, and in addition to the heartache I was feeling, the sudden wave of emotions that flowed through me brought tears to my eyes. I’m not quite sure what exactly the tears were for, but I do know that they weren’t tears of grief.
That was the most amazing town picnic and concert ever. I’m not quite sure if I can say that it was the best, since Rachelle was missing, but I do know that it’s what caused me to be able to start the healing process of losing her. Rather than beginning to cry whenever I hear “Open Arms” now, I’m filled with my wonderful memories of my best friend, and great thoughts of the people who care for me always.
Even though it seemed as though my heartache over Rachelle’s death would never go away I eventually was able to shove my sadness to the back of my mind for brief periods of time. Everybody from town was going, even Rachelle’s parents and younger sister would be there, and if they could do it, then so could I. Jared, the son of my parents best friends who had been like a brother to me since I was born, had promised to stay with me the entire time. Our friends Sydney, Alyssa, and Mark sat with us during the picnic too.
There was so much hype about this year’s picnic and concert that when the day finally arrived I was actually somewhat excited for it. My parents, my twin kid brothers, and I loaded up in the van and drove down the street to pick up Jared and his parents before setting off on the half hour long ride to the festivities. My mind wandered, and I wasn’t too sad for the majority of the day.
The afternoon was awesome. My family, friends, and I all played the usual games like the three legged race, the sack race, water balloon toss, and so many others. There was an abundance of food, as there is every year. Hot dogs, hamburgers, potato salad, coleslaw, watermelon, brownies, the works. I felt such a great sense of nostalgia, and though there were a few times throughout the day that I would look over my left shoulder to say something to Rachelle and a sudden swoop of misery would descend on me for a few moments before I was able to recompose myself, it turned out to be great.
Around the time the sun began to set everybody started to clean up the mess from dinner, the band began to start setting up on stage.
“Here, Mom, let me get that,” I said to my mom who was trying to carry six or seven dirty plates and a potato salad bowl in the same hand.
“No, no, no, you go on to the front of the stage with your friends, we’re fine here.”
“Are you sure, Mrs. Hale?” Jared asked.
“Yeah, we could stay and help if you wanted,” Sydney offered, sounding reluctant, but willing to help anyway.
“Oh it’s fine, you five go ahead down, have a good time. I’m going to keep the twins up here with us. Why don’t you meet us here after the concert is over?”
“Thanks, Mrs. Hale!” Mark and Alyssa said at the same time.
“Thanks, Mom,” I smiled and we all headed towards the stage.
A huge crowd had already formed, and we had to push and shove our way towards the front. It was nothing new, the same thing happened every year, the difference this year being that we didn’t have flamboyant Rachelle here to lead us through. We were usually pretty lucky, though, almost every year we had been able to push our ways to the very front of the crowd, and this year was the same. Adrenaline pumped through my veins as the band began to play. This year’s band wasn’t as well known, but from the start of the concert they sounded awesome. The band name was Fatal Formation. It was such a cool event. The stage was full sized, with camera screens on both sides and camera men in every direction to capture the faces of everyone in our town.
The first few songs were original songs written by Fatal Formation, and they were fist pumping, jump up and down songs. Already we were in love with the band. Throughout the whole concert they went back and forth between original songs and covers of popular songs. When the lead singer announced that this next song would be the last there was a collective groan from the entire crowd.
“Hey everyone! You all have been such an awesome audience tonight! We’d like to leave you with a cover of “Open Arms” by Journey. We know it’s kind of old, but we hope that you like it!”
My breathing started to come heavily as they played the first few notes of the ballad. This had been Rachelle’s favorite song, and even before she died I had always connected it to my memories of things we did together. Tears welled up in my eyes, and by the time that the first line of lyrics had been sung I was sobbing.
Jared turned and looked at me and immediately he embraced me. I buried my face into his shoulder and continued to cry.
“I miss her so much,” I managed to say between gasps. Jared murmured something in my ear that I’m sure was meant to be comforting, but I couldn’t hear exactly what he was saying over the volume of the speakers. I cried and cried, even after the song was over. As the Fatal Formation began to leave the stage the crowd cheered “One more song!” over and over again until the band started back up.
“This one is to you,” the lead singer said, “To that girl on the screen who’s been crying into her guy’s shoulder since the beginning of “Open Arms”. It’s going to be alright, especially when you have friends like him who are going to be there no matter what.” I looked up from Jared’s shoulder to see my tear streaked face on the camera screens as the band began to play “The Heart of Life” by John Mayer.
I was shocked that they had seen me, and somewhat embarrassed, but most of all I was thankful. Thankful that I had people like Jared in my life, who were there whenever and wherever I needed them. Thankful that I had what time there was with Rachelle, and thankful that the memories of her will never fade. I was thankful for the abundance of good things in my life, despite the blindness that I oh so often have to it all. As this blanket of thankfulness enveloped me, I buried my head into Jared’s shoulder once more, and let out a few more tears. I still missed Rachelle, I would no matter what, and in addition to the heartache I was feeling, the sudden wave of emotions that flowed through me brought tears to my eyes. I’m not quite sure what exactly the tears were for, but I do know that they weren’t tears of grief.
That was the most amazing town picnic and concert ever. I’m not quite sure if I can say that it was the best, since Rachelle was missing, but I do know that it’s what caused me to be able to start the healing process of losing her. Rather than beginning to cry whenever I hear “Open Arms” now, I’m filled with my wonderful memories of my best friend, and great thoughts of the people who care for me always.
Saturday, April 30, 2011
My Happy Ending-Avril Lavigne
Inspired by My Happy Ending by Avril Lavigne
Everything I knew, gone. Everything I believed, everything that I trusted, vanished. My happy ending, disappeared.
It had seemed so perfect for so long. I was in love with Ethan, heck, I was going to marry that boy in just one short month. Ethan had said that he felt the same way, but he’s an amazing liar. I’m sure that I’m not the only person who would’ve been fooled; I’m just the unlucky one who was. The truth was too much to ask for, apparently. It wasn’t as if he just got cold feet, or that he decided that maybe he didn’t love me, no, not at all. He’d been lying for months and months. The entire three years that we’d known each other, all the memories that we’d shared, all of the kisses, all of the words, everything was fake, a lie. And if that was all unreal, then what had really happened?
We were clearing out the cabinets and files in Ethan’s apartment, preparing everything to be moved into the apartment that we’d soon be sharing. I was sitting in the spinning office chair, and he in a kitchen chair that we had moved. There were piles upon piles of files, receipts, and the usual junk you would find in any person’s home office, and the shredder had been filled and dumped into the trash seven times already. We were finishing up, with only about four or five cabinets left to do.
“Hey, Eth, where’s the key for these cabinets over here?” I asked, throwing a glance over my shoulder.
“The master key should be in the desk drawer,” He answered, not even looking up to see which cabinets I had been pointing at. I dug through the drawer that he spoke of, and rifled through its contents, pulling out a key ring with six or seven keys on it.
I looked through the keys, delighted to find one labeled “Master.” Ethan walked over, “No, not that one, I’ll do it.” My fiancé said.
“Don’t be silly, I can do it! You have a bunch to do over there.” I fit the correct key into the hole in the front of the cabinet, but before I could turn it, he hit my face. Hard.
“I said, not that one!” Ethan’s voice was harsh, fury dripping from each word. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I gingerly touched the place he had hit. I could already feel swelling. It was as if a switch went off inside Ethan’s head, and he realized what he had just done. “Piper…” He said to me.
I looked up at the man who I loved, at the man who I was getting ready to marry. What was he hiding so diligently from me? My trembling hand reached towards the key, slowly, turning it in the lock. I opened the cabinet door, and pulled out one of many file folders.
The first paper in the folder was a picture and I.D. of a man I recognized from America’s Most Wanted. The remainder of the folder contained pages and pages of information about this man. I pulled out another folder, it contained another picture and set of information on another man who I recognized from America’s Most Wanted. And another and another, there were four total, with one last remaining folder in the cabinet.
I was afraid to take it out, but I forced myself to. There was a note card taped to the front of the folder. The top of the note card read, IDENTITIES, in big block lettering. Underneath, there was a list of each of the names that had a folder, with sets of years next to each. The last name on the list was Ethan Turnbladt (2003-?).
“Ethan, who are you?” I asked, tears beginning to stream down my face.
“Piper, please, let me explain.”
“How in the world do you explain this? I don’t even know who you are.”
“It isn’t what it looks like,”
“It looks exactly like you’ve had multiple identities, and screwed each one up before moving onto the next.”
“Then it’s exactly what it looks like.” Ethan looked me directly in the eye.
“Why didn’t you tell me? What am I to you? Ethan, we’re getting married in one month. How could you hide the majority of your past from me?” I was so hurt.
“Piper, maybe, I don’t love you. This has all been, my attempt to, walk the straight and narrow. But I see that my past will never disappear.” His eyes didn’t stray from mine. I couldn’t see the beauty in those blues anymore; they were masked by cruelty and lies.
“What?”
“Get out. Leave my house, now.” He pointed towards the door. Still shaking, I picked up my purse, and made my way out into the hallway of the apartment building. That’s where I could no longer hold myself together anymore. I began to sob, shoulders shaking, tears pouring uncontrollably. From inside Ethan’s apartment I could hear his muffled voice talking to somebody on the phone, but I couldn’t quite make out what he was saying.
That was a week ago. And for a whole week, I haven’t heard a single word from Ethan Turnbladt. It’s as if he’s disappeared from the face of the earth. Which I’m sure he did. The year 2011 must have replaced the question mark on that note card, followed by a new name, with a new question mark. A new folder added to the collection, Ethan Turnbladt just a bitter memory. I’ll be forgotten, along with every part of this era of his life, and he’ll never think of Piper Richards again.
He’s gone, I keep telling myself, but I don’t believe it. I don’t believe anything anymore. The only truth I know is that Ethan lied to me. I think the only reason that I even know that’s true is because of the still dark purple bruise on my face from when he struck me. Who knows, maybe when that fades, I won’t know anything for sure anymore.
Everything I knew, gone. Everything I believed, everything that I trusted, vanished. My happy ending, disappeared.
It had seemed so perfect for so long. I was in love with Ethan, heck, I was going to marry that boy in just one short month. Ethan had said that he felt the same way, but he’s an amazing liar. I’m sure that I’m not the only person who would’ve been fooled; I’m just the unlucky one who was. The truth was too much to ask for, apparently. It wasn’t as if he just got cold feet, or that he decided that maybe he didn’t love me, no, not at all. He’d been lying for months and months. The entire three years that we’d known each other, all the memories that we’d shared, all of the kisses, all of the words, everything was fake, a lie. And if that was all unreal, then what had really happened?
We were clearing out the cabinets and files in Ethan’s apartment, preparing everything to be moved into the apartment that we’d soon be sharing. I was sitting in the spinning office chair, and he in a kitchen chair that we had moved. There were piles upon piles of files, receipts, and the usual junk you would find in any person’s home office, and the shredder had been filled and dumped into the trash seven times already. We were finishing up, with only about four or five cabinets left to do.
“Hey, Eth, where’s the key for these cabinets over here?” I asked, throwing a glance over my shoulder.
“The master key should be in the desk drawer,” He answered, not even looking up to see which cabinets I had been pointing at. I dug through the drawer that he spoke of, and rifled through its contents, pulling out a key ring with six or seven keys on it.
I looked through the keys, delighted to find one labeled “Master.” Ethan walked over, “No, not that one, I’ll do it.” My fiancé said.
“Don’t be silly, I can do it! You have a bunch to do over there.” I fit the correct key into the hole in the front of the cabinet, but before I could turn it, he hit my face. Hard.
“I said, not that one!” Ethan’s voice was harsh, fury dripping from each word. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I gingerly touched the place he had hit. I could already feel swelling. It was as if a switch went off inside Ethan’s head, and he realized what he had just done. “Piper…” He said to me.
I looked up at the man who I loved, at the man who I was getting ready to marry. What was he hiding so diligently from me? My trembling hand reached towards the key, slowly, turning it in the lock. I opened the cabinet door, and pulled out one of many file folders.
The first paper in the folder was a picture and I.D. of a man I recognized from America’s Most Wanted. The remainder of the folder contained pages and pages of information about this man. I pulled out another folder, it contained another picture and set of information on another man who I recognized from America’s Most Wanted. And another and another, there were four total, with one last remaining folder in the cabinet.
I was afraid to take it out, but I forced myself to. There was a note card taped to the front of the folder. The top of the note card read, IDENTITIES, in big block lettering. Underneath, there was a list of each of the names that had a folder, with sets of years next to each. The last name on the list was Ethan Turnbladt (2003-?).
“Ethan, who are you?” I asked, tears beginning to stream down my face.
“Piper, please, let me explain.”
“How in the world do you explain this? I don’t even know who you are.”
“It isn’t what it looks like,”
“It looks exactly like you’ve had multiple identities, and screwed each one up before moving onto the next.”
“Then it’s exactly what it looks like.” Ethan looked me directly in the eye.
“Why didn’t you tell me? What am I to you? Ethan, we’re getting married in one month. How could you hide the majority of your past from me?” I was so hurt.
“Piper, maybe, I don’t love you. This has all been, my attempt to, walk the straight and narrow. But I see that my past will never disappear.” His eyes didn’t stray from mine. I couldn’t see the beauty in those blues anymore; they were masked by cruelty and lies.
“What?”
“Get out. Leave my house, now.” He pointed towards the door. Still shaking, I picked up my purse, and made my way out into the hallway of the apartment building. That’s where I could no longer hold myself together anymore. I began to sob, shoulders shaking, tears pouring uncontrollably. From inside Ethan’s apartment I could hear his muffled voice talking to somebody on the phone, but I couldn’t quite make out what he was saying.
That was a week ago. And for a whole week, I haven’t heard a single word from Ethan Turnbladt. It’s as if he’s disappeared from the face of the earth. Which I’m sure he did. The year 2011 must have replaced the question mark on that note card, followed by a new name, with a new question mark. A new folder added to the collection, Ethan Turnbladt just a bitter memory. I’ll be forgotten, along with every part of this era of his life, and he’ll never think of Piper Richards again.
He’s gone, I keep telling myself, but I don’t believe it. I don’t believe anything anymore. The only truth I know is that Ethan lied to me. I think the only reason that I even know that’s true is because of the still dark purple bruise on my face from when he struck me. Who knows, maybe when that fades, I won’t know anything for sure anymore.
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Discontinuation
Sadly, I wish to inform you that I am going to discontinue my posting of Eva's story on this blog. My hopes are that I will be able to finish writing the novel, and turn it into something that could be professionally published.
I do not, however, want to discontinue posting in this blog completely. I will post short stories, poems, and other small pieces of my writing. I hope that you all will continue to read my writing, and continue to follow my words, despite this change. Thank you, everyone!
I do not, however, want to discontinue posting in this blog completely. I will post short stories, poems, and other small pieces of my writing. I hope that you all will continue to read my writing, and continue to follow my words, despite this change. Thank you, everyone!
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Religious Battle
Once again, I was awoken early by the heat filtering into my house, only rather than beginning to prepare for another day, I lay in bed and think about what had happened the night before. Writing in my notebook reminded me of the prayers that I used to write to God before The Incident, when I still had room in my head for anything else. I used to be really into Christianity, but after The Incident, well, everything changed. It wasn’t that I stopped believing, no, that wasn’t it at all, but I couldn’t deal with going to youth group or the services on Sunday mornings. I became afraid of large groups of people who didn’t know about what had happened, afraid that people wouldn’t understand, that the people who I used to think of as friends would notice the change in me. As I stopped attending church functions, I kind of let my faith slip away from me.
I missed talking to God, though. God was the only person who I could tell everything to. Even Marissa and Dana didn’t know as much about me as God did. Well, I know that God knows everything about everyone, but what I mean is, I told God more than I had even told Dana and Marissa. When I was still in elementary school and people would ask me who my best friend was, I was actually known to say Jesus on most occasions. I missed those days.
I guess I was angry at God, too. I mean, after all, He hadn’t done anything to stop what had happened to me. He had watched every horrifying moment of The Incident occur, sat by and watched as I screamed and tears poured down my face. I had to remember what I had been taught when I still went to Church, though. God gave us free will, that’s why bad things happen. God doesn’t do the bad things to us. I was still angry, though, no matter how many times I tried to tell myself what I knew was the truth.
My Bible still sat on the little bookshelf next to my bed, but I hadn’t touched it since a few months after The Incident. I hadn’t meant to stop caring about my religion, but it just sort of happened. Most people wouldn’t have been shocked about my sudden religious change after The Incident, but I was. God and Jesus used to be such a major part of my life. I missed those times, though, and I really wanted to go back.
That desire to have the happiness that I had before The Incident is what drove me to rolling over on my bed, and pulling my Bible off the shelf. I blew the dust from the cover, and allowed the book to fall open to a random page. My eyes fell upon a verse that I had underlined at one point in my younger, more innocent, days.
“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding,” Proverbs 3:5
I laughed quietly to myself. Yeah, right, I thought, trust. I barely trust my own family members now. But then, as I began to think deeper into what the verse really meant, I thought that maybe God was trying to send me a message. I didn’t really want to listen, though. I mean, I had been begging to know the reason why all that I’ve dealt with has happened to me just hours ago, but that doesn’t mean that this was my answer. No. I didn’t like this answer any more than I liked what had happened to me. It was like the insult after the injury.
Despite my anger at that moment, though, I was driven to pray the first prayer that I had prayed since around the time of The Incident. It was a short prayer, fueled by anger and stubbornness, but a prayer nonetheless.
Not today, Lord, not today
I missed talking to God, though. God was the only person who I could tell everything to. Even Marissa and Dana didn’t know as much about me as God did. Well, I know that God knows everything about everyone, but what I mean is, I told God more than I had even told Dana and Marissa. When I was still in elementary school and people would ask me who my best friend was, I was actually known to say Jesus on most occasions. I missed those days.
I guess I was angry at God, too. I mean, after all, He hadn’t done anything to stop what had happened to me. He had watched every horrifying moment of The Incident occur, sat by and watched as I screamed and tears poured down my face. I had to remember what I had been taught when I still went to Church, though. God gave us free will, that’s why bad things happen. God doesn’t do the bad things to us. I was still angry, though, no matter how many times I tried to tell myself what I knew was the truth.
My Bible still sat on the little bookshelf next to my bed, but I hadn’t touched it since a few months after The Incident. I hadn’t meant to stop caring about my religion, but it just sort of happened. Most people wouldn’t have been shocked about my sudden religious change after The Incident, but I was. God and Jesus used to be such a major part of my life. I missed those times, though, and I really wanted to go back.
That desire to have the happiness that I had before The Incident is what drove me to rolling over on my bed, and pulling my Bible off the shelf. I blew the dust from the cover, and allowed the book to fall open to a random page. My eyes fell upon a verse that I had underlined at one point in my younger, more innocent, days.
“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding,” Proverbs 3:5
I laughed quietly to myself. Yeah, right, I thought, trust. I barely trust my own family members now. But then, as I began to think deeper into what the verse really meant, I thought that maybe God was trying to send me a message. I didn’t really want to listen, though. I mean, I had been begging to know the reason why all that I’ve dealt with has happened to me just hours ago, but that doesn’t mean that this was my answer. No. I didn’t like this answer any more than I liked what had happened to me. It was like the insult after the injury.
Despite my anger at that moment, though, I was driven to pray the first prayer that I had prayed since around the time of The Incident. It was a short prayer, fueled by anger and stubbornness, but a prayer nonetheless.
Not today, Lord, not today
Friday, March 25, 2011
Sleepless Torment
Sleeping all day had done terrible things to my internal clock, and at three in the morning, I was still awake. I kicked the sheets off from the bed, figuring that if I wasn’t going to sleep, I didn’t need that protective layer of heat that was causing me to sweat. Thoughts were swirling around my head, none of them quite substantial enough in the late hour of the night to actually take hold in my brain.
My knee was sore, and the band-aid was beginning to itch, but I didn’t dare touch it, knowing full well that the cut hadn’t scabbed yet. In order to possibly slow my thoughts down and distract me from the itchiness I rolled over and turned on the radio to my favorite station, not sure what to expect at three in the morning. Lucky for me, they weren’t playing some weird techno songs or running the same old commercials over and over again, but rather playing songs that had been popular just a couple of years ago.
When I turned the radio on, it was in the middle of playing the song that my entire grade had been obsessed with in about fourth grade. It was still a pretty good song, but after about a year most people began to realize how overplayed it was. I hummed along quietly, letting the lyrics take over my mind.
The first song ended, and the next one came on. No. No, no, no. I thought, as the first few chords began to play. Not this song. Please no. I begged silently to who knows what. This song was that song. This was the song from the night of The Incident. The cheery chords and joyful lyrics only brought terror and tears for me. Instantly I was fighting from the memories all rushing back. I was holding back tears, unsuccessfully, and trying to muffle screams into my pillow. A cold sweat broke out all over my body.
No. I wanted to reach over and turn the music off, but I couldn’t do it. Some masochistic part of myself liked the terror, liked the pain that this song brought along with it. The tears continued to stream as I remembered each wretched moment of The Incident. I could see everything happening in vivid detail, could smell the smells, hear the sounds, and even feel the touches. I shivered, waiting for it to end.
I wanted to scream out loud for once, but I knew that I couldn’t, my mom was only yards away in her bedroom, and I wouldn’t let her see how much pain this still caused me, no matter what. I hated this. I hated feeling so trapped. I knew that I couldn’t do this alone anymore, but I knew how much it hurt the people around me to see me in so much pain, and I would never put them through that again.
Trying to calm my thoughts, I took a deep breath, but as soon as it seemed like I would be able to gain control of my pain, it all rushed back, and in a sudden snap of memories, I was once again whisked away to that night.
“Bye, Taylor!” I turned back to the book that I had been reading. Josh was practically a brother to me, and he was totally comfortable in our house, and we were totally comfortable in it too.
After a few minutes of watching TV Josh turned to me, “So, kiddo, what do you want to do?” I shrugged, indifferent. “Well, what did we do last time?” He asked.
“I think we played cards,” I said.
“Oh, yeah! That’s right. Well, we could play another game,” Josh suggested.
I nodded, “Sure. Can we play Monopoly?”
“Definitely,” So I pulled the board game out of our hall closet, and we began to set up the pieces.
I always had hated putting the game together, it took too long, and I wasn’t even sure how it would turn out, with just two people playing and all. I made Josh be the banker, because I hated math, even minimal amounts of it.
I loved hanging out with Josh, he really was like that older brother that I never had. At first when Taylor started going out with him, I wasn’t sure if I liked it, I didn’t think that I would want to share my sister, but soon enough, our whole family was tied around his finger. I secretly hoped that the two of them would get married one day, even though my parents told us that that was ridiculous. Taylor was only sixteen after all. I don’t think that I was supposed to know this, but Josh was seventeen, almost eighteen, years old. I had heard them talking about it once, but I never told my parents, because I figured they had known, but looking back on it, I think that I must have figured wrong.
Josh was the kind of boy who could make anyone love him. My family and I definitely did, and I know that he was super athletic, so the coaches all loved him. He definitely got good grades, and he was the boy that everyone wanted, or so I had imagined at age twelve.
About fifteen minutes into the game, I became thirsty, so while Josh was taking his turn, I walked into the kitchen to pour myself a glass of water. I remember carefully counting out the little cubes of ice that I gently plopped into the water, making sure that there wasn’t too little or too much.
When I walked back towards the family room, I tripped, spilling ice water all over myself. My purple sweater with gold sequins took the majority of the spill, but water was everywhere. Josh whipped his head around.
“Eva!” He laughed, grinning at me with a horrifying smile.
***
No! Stop! I yanked myself back into the present day, in my own bedroom in the summer heat, before the worst parts of it flooded into my mind. I was not reliving anymore of that treacherous memory. My breaths came at an unsteady pace, and my heart was beating much faster than its usual rate. Tears started to pour from my wide eyes. I couldn’t believe how vividly I still remembered that night. It was never going to go away, was it?
I spent a good portion of the past three years trying to heal, trying to get better and forget, but it all must have been a waste, because just as I thought that I might actually be getting better, it all came back. This couldn’t happen to me again, it couldn’t. For so long I was in so much pain, The Incident took over my life, and I hated it. Everything about me was weak in my mind. I wasn’t strong enough to stop what happened on that night, I wasn’t strong enough to keep composed in front of my family and friends in the beginning, and now I wasn’t strong enough to get better. What was wrong with me?
I couldn’t do this anymore. There was no option but to give up. But to give up what? I had no idea what I was thinking about. I just knew that I couldn’t handle it all anymore. I guess it was time to give in. If I wasn’t getting better, then there was no point in lying to myself and say that I was. For such a long time I had refused to write in a journal or a diary, because after The Incident my therapist had me write a journal to deal with my emotions. Once I figured that things were getting better, I decided that I wouldn’t write in the notebook anymore, because if I could not do that, then surely it must be true, I must really be okay. So, with the admittance that maybe I wasn’t healed, I dug through the books next to my bed, and found the marbled notebook that I had stored all of my deepest feelings in.
I began to write. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t pretend that I’m okay any longer. But I have to. No matter what I do, I will not hurt the people who love me any more than I already have. I’m sure so many people blame themselves, when really it was my entire fault. Even the people who don’t blame themselves hurt so much more with every tear that they see me shed.
I am so afraid. Though I have no idea of what I’m afraid of. I guess there have been some obvious changes in me since The Incident, but I’ve always adapted pretty well to change of all kinds. Maybe I’m afraid that it could happen again. I don’t know. I’m just afraid, and that’s all there is to it. Every time that I try to shove my fears out of my mind, it seems as though they just come back even stronger. I can’t make the memories go away, I can’t make the waves of nausea that begin every time I think of The Incident stop. I just can’t do it.
Is this how I’m stuck feeling forever? Small, weak, and afraid? That night was the absolute worst night of my life. How many times am I going to be forced to relive it? I don’t think that I can even do anything to stop this. There isn’t an end in sight, and I can’t think of any means to an end at all. I used to think that it would just take time, and soon all of the vividness of my memories of that night would disappear.
Please don’t make me do this anymore, oh please, God, no.
And I snapped the notebook closed before laying back down, and falling asleep. My tears continued to fall throughout my few hours of rest.
My knee was sore, and the band-aid was beginning to itch, but I didn’t dare touch it, knowing full well that the cut hadn’t scabbed yet. In order to possibly slow my thoughts down and distract me from the itchiness I rolled over and turned on the radio to my favorite station, not sure what to expect at three in the morning. Lucky for me, they weren’t playing some weird techno songs or running the same old commercials over and over again, but rather playing songs that had been popular just a couple of years ago.
When I turned the radio on, it was in the middle of playing the song that my entire grade had been obsessed with in about fourth grade. It was still a pretty good song, but after about a year most people began to realize how overplayed it was. I hummed along quietly, letting the lyrics take over my mind.
The first song ended, and the next one came on. No. No, no, no. I thought, as the first few chords began to play. Not this song. Please no. I begged silently to who knows what. This song was that song. This was the song from the night of The Incident. The cheery chords and joyful lyrics only brought terror and tears for me. Instantly I was fighting from the memories all rushing back. I was holding back tears, unsuccessfully, and trying to muffle screams into my pillow. A cold sweat broke out all over my body.
No. I wanted to reach over and turn the music off, but I couldn’t do it. Some masochistic part of myself liked the terror, liked the pain that this song brought along with it. The tears continued to stream as I remembered each wretched moment of The Incident. I could see everything happening in vivid detail, could smell the smells, hear the sounds, and even feel the touches. I shivered, waiting for it to end.
I wanted to scream out loud for once, but I knew that I couldn’t, my mom was only yards away in her bedroom, and I wouldn’t let her see how much pain this still caused me, no matter what. I hated this. I hated feeling so trapped. I knew that I couldn’t do this alone anymore, but I knew how much it hurt the people around me to see me in so much pain, and I would never put them through that again.
Trying to calm my thoughts, I took a deep breath, but as soon as it seemed like I would be able to gain control of my pain, it all rushed back, and in a sudden snap of memories, I was once again whisked away to that night.
***
“Alright, Eva, I’ll be back in, like, forty five minutes. Josh will be here the whole time, so don’t worry about anything.” I gave my sister a small wave as she walked out of the house. She had promised my parents that she would pick Grandma Mary up from the airport on time. My mom insisted that she could stay home from her lunch with the girls, but in an attempt to prove her responsibility Taylor had practically shoved her out the door. Even though I was twelve years old, I was terrified of staying home alone, and this was before The Incident. Josh Wilkens, Taylor’s boyfriend of two years, had volunteered to stay with me, since there wasn’t room in the two person car that Taylor had been left with the pickup Grandma with.“Bye, Taylor!” I turned back to the book that I had been reading. Josh was practically a brother to me, and he was totally comfortable in our house, and we were totally comfortable in it too.
After a few minutes of watching TV Josh turned to me, “So, kiddo, what do you want to do?” I shrugged, indifferent. “Well, what did we do last time?” He asked.
“I think we played cards,” I said.
“Oh, yeah! That’s right. Well, we could play another game,” Josh suggested.
I nodded, “Sure. Can we play Monopoly?”
“Definitely,” So I pulled the board game out of our hall closet, and we began to set up the pieces.
I always had hated putting the game together, it took too long, and I wasn’t even sure how it would turn out, with just two people playing and all. I made Josh be the banker, because I hated math, even minimal amounts of it.
I loved hanging out with Josh, he really was like that older brother that I never had. At first when Taylor started going out with him, I wasn’t sure if I liked it, I didn’t think that I would want to share my sister, but soon enough, our whole family was tied around his finger. I secretly hoped that the two of them would get married one day, even though my parents told us that that was ridiculous. Taylor was only sixteen after all. I don’t think that I was supposed to know this, but Josh was seventeen, almost eighteen, years old. I had heard them talking about it once, but I never told my parents, because I figured they had known, but looking back on it, I think that I must have figured wrong.
Josh was the kind of boy who could make anyone love him. My family and I definitely did, and I know that he was super athletic, so the coaches all loved him. He definitely got good grades, and he was the boy that everyone wanted, or so I had imagined at age twelve.
About fifteen minutes into the game, I became thirsty, so while Josh was taking his turn, I walked into the kitchen to pour myself a glass of water. I remember carefully counting out the little cubes of ice that I gently plopped into the water, making sure that there wasn’t too little or too much.
When I walked back towards the family room, I tripped, spilling ice water all over myself. My purple sweater with gold sequins took the majority of the spill, but water was everywhere. Josh whipped his head around.
“Eva!” He laughed, grinning at me with a horrifying smile.
***
No! Stop! I yanked myself back into the present day, in my own bedroom in the summer heat, before the worst parts of it flooded into my mind. I was not reliving anymore of that treacherous memory. My breaths came at an unsteady pace, and my heart was beating much faster than its usual rate. Tears started to pour from my wide eyes. I couldn’t believe how vividly I still remembered that night. It was never going to go away, was it?
I spent a good portion of the past three years trying to heal, trying to get better and forget, but it all must have been a waste, because just as I thought that I might actually be getting better, it all came back. This couldn’t happen to me again, it couldn’t. For so long I was in so much pain, The Incident took over my life, and I hated it. Everything about me was weak in my mind. I wasn’t strong enough to stop what happened on that night, I wasn’t strong enough to keep composed in front of my family and friends in the beginning, and now I wasn’t strong enough to get better. What was wrong with me?
I couldn’t do this anymore. There was no option but to give up. But to give up what? I had no idea what I was thinking about. I just knew that I couldn’t handle it all anymore. I guess it was time to give in. If I wasn’t getting better, then there was no point in lying to myself and say that I was. For such a long time I had refused to write in a journal or a diary, because after The Incident my therapist had me write a journal to deal with my emotions. Once I figured that things were getting better, I decided that I wouldn’t write in the notebook anymore, because if I could not do that, then surely it must be true, I must really be okay. So, with the admittance that maybe I wasn’t healed, I dug through the books next to my bed, and found the marbled notebook that I had stored all of my deepest feelings in.
I began to write. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t pretend that I’m okay any longer. But I have to. No matter what I do, I will not hurt the people who love me any more than I already have. I’m sure so many people blame themselves, when really it was my entire fault. Even the people who don’t blame themselves hurt so much more with every tear that they see me shed.
I am so afraid. Though I have no idea of what I’m afraid of. I guess there have been some obvious changes in me since The Incident, but I’ve always adapted pretty well to change of all kinds. Maybe I’m afraid that it could happen again. I don’t know. I’m just afraid, and that’s all there is to it. Every time that I try to shove my fears out of my mind, it seems as though they just come back even stronger. I can’t make the memories go away, I can’t make the waves of nausea that begin every time I think of The Incident stop. I just can’t do it.
Is this how I’m stuck feeling forever? Small, weak, and afraid? That night was the absolute worst night of my life. How many times am I going to be forced to relive it? I don’t think that I can even do anything to stop this. There isn’t an end in sight, and I can’t think of any means to an end at all. I used to think that it would just take time, and soon all of the vividness of my memories of that night would disappear.
Please don’t make me do this anymore, oh please, God, no.
And I snapped the notebook closed before laying back down, and falling asleep. My tears continued to fall throughout my few hours of rest.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Eva Endeavors
The next few days were long and difficult to get through. It was the middle of June, and a heat wave had just arrived. Our schools had only just let out for the summer few days ago, but already the summer season was in full swing. I loved the laziness of summer, loved the sickly sweet smell of my mom’s homemade lemonade, the feeling of damp cloth on my back as little beads of sweat formed a loose glue between my shirt and my skin. Year after year it was always the same thing, every summer, the same boredom, the same freedom, and the same experiences that somehow brought new memories with new years.
On the first Wednesday of summer, I woke up earlier than usual, drenched in sweat, a nightmare that was more like a flashback of The Incident scaring me into consciousness. My cotton shorts and tie-dyed t-shirt hung limply on my body, and strands of hair that had escaped my ponytail clung to my face. I stifled a scream and tried to catch my breath. One, two, three, four, I counted, trying to make my breaths come evenly. I couldn’t do this again, wouldn’t allow this disaster to become the center of my life once more. It had seemed as though I was getting better, beginning to heal, even my therapist had thought so, and for about five months I had only been going in for bimonthly check-ins. Apparently I was wrong. The nightmares, the breakdowns, it was all coming back, all of it.
Deftly, I rolled over, tangled in the bed sheet, and squinted at the clock on my bedside table, before giving up and rolling over completely in order to reach my glasses. It was 7:14 in the morning, much too early to be awake when I wasn’t forced to be. My breathing was still unstable, and my heart continued to race. I knew it would be a complete lost cause to fall asleep again, so I mustered my energy, and swung my legs over the side of the bed, sitting up and untangling my body from the bedding. I sat there, perched on the edge of the mattress, for a few moments, allowing my heartbeat to slow down a little, and with it my breathing steadied.
Deciding that there was no point in wasting the time I spent awake, no matter how early it was, I collected my towel and bathrobe and walked into the purple themed bathroom that Taylor and I had shared until she left for college. The temperature outside must have already been up to the mid to upper ninety’s, and it would only get worse as the day wore on. My family had the windows in our house closed, though, because we didn’t want the air conditioning to have to work harder than it already was, but still the rooms were hot and the air seemed almost too thick to breathe in.
When I stepped into the shower, I let the cool water pelt down onto my bare back for a while, before beginning to actually clean myself. It was unusual for me to keep the water in the shower below scalding, but it was much too hot out to even consider anything above chilly.
Once I was showered with my teeth brushed and contacts in, I wrapped my towel under my arms, and allowed my wet hair to lay down my back as I darted into my bedroom to get dressed. It was around 8:00 when I was dressed in Bermuda shorts and an old camp T-shirt with my hair wrapped in my towel.
“Eva?” My mom called from downstairs. She must have gone into the kitchen to make herself a cup of coffee before getting ready for her day.
“Yeah, Mom?”
“Did you turn the air conditioning off?”
“No, of course not,” I said incredulously. I glanced back at the thermometer stuck to my bedroom window; it showed one hundred and eight degrees already.
“Hmm…”
“Why? Is it off?”
“Well, yes and no. The thermostat says that it’s on and programmed correctly, but it doesn’t seem to be working. Maybe the unit has finally seen the last of its days.” She suggested. No. No, no, no, I thought, this is not happening. My dad was getting back from Ohio in two days, and I knew that my mom would wait until he was home to call anyone to fix the AC. I groaned.
“Now, Eva. I know it’s hot out, but maybe it’ll be good for you. Marissa, Dana, and you can spend the day outside for once, the breeze will be better in the yard then in here, and the fresh air is healthy.”
“If we don’t die from the heat first,” I muttered under my breath before walking back upstairs to text Marissa and Dana and warn them about the AC. Marissa’s dad had died when she was only a year old, and her mom had to work long hours to support the two of them. Ms. Davenport, Marissa’s mom, was worried that if Marissa was home alone all summer she would get involved in bad things, so my mom had offered for Marissa to hang out at our house during the day, so it wasn’t like we could hang out there until the AC was fixed. Dana was the oldest child of six, and her house was chaos all the time with the four year old triplets screaming and the eleven year old twins’ attitudes growing by the minute. We loved the hectic environment of the Rani’s home, but it was too crazy to spend an extended amount of time there.
sorry, guys, but it looks like we’re going 2 b forced 2 spend the rest of the week in the heat I warned.
huh? They both replied, almost at the exact same moment.
the AC broke. its even hotter inside than outside :(
no big. just left the house. b there in 2. Dana replied first. The three of us all lived in the same neighborhood, though Marissa lived at the opposite end that Dana and I did.
whatevr. but no making fun of my frizzball hair. Marissa said, and I could almost hear her laughter.
kk. cya soon! Dana would probably be here before the message had even sent, but I hated not replying to people.
riss, we all get frizzball hair in this weather. rmbr last yr? it wasnt even this bad then. I said.
yeayeayea. suree. trying to find matching flip-flops, then i’ll head up.
just wear 2 different colors. none of us care.
fine. i’m leaving now.
good! don’t try to take that shortcut again! Last summer Marissa had tried to cut through some wooded areas in our neighborhood to get to my house faster, but ended up with nothing but scrapes and a bad case of poison ivy. Dana and I won’t ever let her forget it.
I unwrapped the towel from my head, my still damp hair falling around my face. I didn’t even bother putting shoes on when the doorbell rang, knowing that I would take them off once we were outside anyway. Dana stepped into the house, and made a gagging noise.
“Could this air be any thicker?”
“Ugh, I know, right? My hair is never going to finish drying in this humidity.” I complained, not really caring what I looked like, but there was enough moisture in the air surrounding me, I didn’t need any more of it, thank you very much.
Dana kicked her shoes into the mudroom, and the two of us walked outside and into the garden shed, in search of an outdoor blanket to sit on. In the middle of us trying to climb up the various objects in the shed to reach the top shelf Marissa walked in and began laughing, causing me to whip my head around. I accidentally fell into Dana, and as the two of us struggled to regain our balances on precarious perches, someone grabbed the edge of something on the top shelf as both of us fell onto the ground, an avalanche of various seasonal object cascading down upon us. Snow sleds, plastic sand toys, a portable lawn chair, and an assortment of other objects completely buried us, the blanket that we were trying to find drifting down to sit on top of the pile.
Marissa stood by the door laughing hysterically before beginning to save Dana and me from the dangerous pile of shed objects. It took the three of us about two hours to put everything that had fallen back into its rightful place.
It wasn’t until we had spread the blue picnic blanket out in the back yard underneath a big oak tree that I noticed the gash on my knee. My left calf had dried blood all over it, though the cut didn’t appear to be bleeding anymore.
“Um…guys?” My voice squeaked as I looked back and forth between my friends and my knee. How had I not noticed such a large cut before? I guess I must have thought it was sweat running down my leg, not blood, which was a logical thing to think.
“Eva!” Dana said, before springing into action. She was always the one that knew what to do, always the one who could think clearly in every situation. I couldn’t stand the sight of blood, my own especially, ever since I was a little kid, and I froze up at the sight of it. Marissa and Dana pulled me towards the door to my house, and sat me down at a chair in the kitchen. As Marissa was pulling a box of band-aids out of the medicine cabinet along with a tube of antibiotic ointment, Dana was putting soap and water on a paper towel to clean my knee.
“Eva Marie Rodgers! What happened?” My mom asked when she walked in from the kitchen, taking the paper towel from Dana’s hand and continuing to clean the cut.
Dana launched into the story, starting from when we were looking for the blanket, ending where I discovered the wound. My mom just shook her head at us, laughing quietly before putting about three times as much antibiotic ointment as was needed on my knee and covering it with a band-aid.
“Well, I guess you girls have always been kind of crazy. Let’s just not go anywhere beyond cut knees, deal?” My mom said.
“Definitely!” Marissa answered with a smile, before pulling me and Dana back outside.
The three of us spent the rest of the day laying on the blue blanket outside, and when the sun changed sides in the sky, and we were no longer in the shade, we had actually fallen asleep, exhausted from our shed endeavors and the heat. Dana and Marissa each had lobster red skin, whereas mine was just slightly darker than before. I guess it was one of the blessings that I had received when I was born, I had never burned in my life.
We also all woke up with the frizziest hair that I have ever seen. It was worse than any other summers before, and we all laughed at the odd directions of our hair. Ah, how I love the laziness of summer time.
After dinner with my mom Dana and Marissa each went home for the rest of the night, though I’m not sure what they did for the hours of the night, because I know that I certainly wasn’t able to sleep.
On the first Wednesday of summer, I woke up earlier than usual, drenched in sweat, a nightmare that was more like a flashback of The Incident scaring me into consciousness. My cotton shorts and tie-dyed t-shirt hung limply on my body, and strands of hair that had escaped my ponytail clung to my face. I stifled a scream and tried to catch my breath. One, two, three, four, I counted, trying to make my breaths come evenly. I couldn’t do this again, wouldn’t allow this disaster to become the center of my life once more. It had seemed as though I was getting better, beginning to heal, even my therapist had thought so, and for about five months I had only been going in for bimonthly check-ins. Apparently I was wrong. The nightmares, the breakdowns, it was all coming back, all of it.
Deftly, I rolled over, tangled in the bed sheet, and squinted at the clock on my bedside table, before giving up and rolling over completely in order to reach my glasses. It was 7:14 in the morning, much too early to be awake when I wasn’t forced to be. My breathing was still unstable, and my heart continued to race. I knew it would be a complete lost cause to fall asleep again, so I mustered my energy, and swung my legs over the side of the bed, sitting up and untangling my body from the bedding. I sat there, perched on the edge of the mattress, for a few moments, allowing my heartbeat to slow down a little, and with it my breathing steadied.
Deciding that there was no point in wasting the time I spent awake, no matter how early it was, I collected my towel and bathrobe and walked into the purple themed bathroom that Taylor and I had shared until she left for college. The temperature outside must have already been up to the mid to upper ninety’s, and it would only get worse as the day wore on. My family had the windows in our house closed, though, because we didn’t want the air conditioning to have to work harder than it already was, but still the rooms were hot and the air seemed almost too thick to breathe in.
When I stepped into the shower, I let the cool water pelt down onto my bare back for a while, before beginning to actually clean myself. It was unusual for me to keep the water in the shower below scalding, but it was much too hot out to even consider anything above chilly.
Once I was showered with my teeth brushed and contacts in, I wrapped my towel under my arms, and allowed my wet hair to lay down my back as I darted into my bedroom to get dressed. It was around 8:00 when I was dressed in Bermuda shorts and an old camp T-shirt with my hair wrapped in my towel.
“Eva?” My mom called from downstairs. She must have gone into the kitchen to make herself a cup of coffee before getting ready for her day.
“Yeah, Mom?”
“Did you turn the air conditioning off?”
“No, of course not,” I said incredulously. I glanced back at the thermometer stuck to my bedroom window; it showed one hundred and eight degrees already.
“Hmm…”
“Why? Is it off?”
“Well, yes and no. The thermostat says that it’s on and programmed correctly, but it doesn’t seem to be working. Maybe the unit has finally seen the last of its days.” She suggested. No. No, no, no, I thought, this is not happening. My dad was getting back from Ohio in two days, and I knew that my mom would wait until he was home to call anyone to fix the AC. I groaned.
“Now, Eva. I know it’s hot out, but maybe it’ll be good for you. Marissa, Dana, and you can spend the day outside for once, the breeze will be better in the yard then in here, and the fresh air is healthy.”
“If we don’t die from the heat first,” I muttered under my breath before walking back upstairs to text Marissa and Dana and warn them about the AC. Marissa’s dad had died when she was only a year old, and her mom had to work long hours to support the two of them. Ms. Davenport, Marissa’s mom, was worried that if Marissa was home alone all summer she would get involved in bad things, so my mom had offered for Marissa to hang out at our house during the day, so it wasn’t like we could hang out there until the AC was fixed. Dana was the oldest child of six, and her house was chaos all the time with the four year old triplets screaming and the eleven year old twins’ attitudes growing by the minute. We loved the hectic environment of the Rani’s home, but it was too crazy to spend an extended amount of time there.
sorry, guys, but it looks like we’re going 2 b forced 2 spend the rest of the week in the heat I warned.
huh? They both replied, almost at the exact same moment.
the AC broke. its even hotter inside than outside :(
no big. just left the house. b there in 2. Dana replied first. The three of us all lived in the same neighborhood, though Marissa lived at the opposite end that Dana and I did.
whatevr. but no making fun of my frizzball hair. Marissa said, and I could almost hear her laughter.
kk. cya soon! Dana would probably be here before the message had even sent, but I hated not replying to people.
riss, we all get frizzball hair in this weather. rmbr last yr? it wasnt even this bad then. I said.
yeayeayea. suree. trying to find matching flip-flops, then i’ll head up.
just wear 2 different colors. none of us care.
fine. i’m leaving now.
good! don’t try to take that shortcut again! Last summer Marissa had tried to cut through some wooded areas in our neighborhood to get to my house faster, but ended up with nothing but scrapes and a bad case of poison ivy. Dana and I won’t ever let her forget it.
I unwrapped the towel from my head, my still damp hair falling around my face. I didn’t even bother putting shoes on when the doorbell rang, knowing that I would take them off once we were outside anyway. Dana stepped into the house, and made a gagging noise.
“Could this air be any thicker?”
“Ugh, I know, right? My hair is never going to finish drying in this humidity.” I complained, not really caring what I looked like, but there was enough moisture in the air surrounding me, I didn’t need any more of it, thank you very much.
Dana kicked her shoes into the mudroom, and the two of us walked outside and into the garden shed, in search of an outdoor blanket to sit on. In the middle of us trying to climb up the various objects in the shed to reach the top shelf Marissa walked in and began laughing, causing me to whip my head around. I accidentally fell into Dana, and as the two of us struggled to regain our balances on precarious perches, someone grabbed the edge of something on the top shelf as both of us fell onto the ground, an avalanche of various seasonal object cascading down upon us. Snow sleds, plastic sand toys, a portable lawn chair, and an assortment of other objects completely buried us, the blanket that we were trying to find drifting down to sit on top of the pile.
Marissa stood by the door laughing hysterically before beginning to save Dana and me from the dangerous pile of shed objects. It took the three of us about two hours to put everything that had fallen back into its rightful place.
It wasn’t until we had spread the blue picnic blanket out in the back yard underneath a big oak tree that I noticed the gash on my knee. My left calf had dried blood all over it, though the cut didn’t appear to be bleeding anymore.
“Um…guys?” My voice squeaked as I looked back and forth between my friends and my knee. How had I not noticed such a large cut before? I guess I must have thought it was sweat running down my leg, not blood, which was a logical thing to think.
“Eva!” Dana said, before springing into action. She was always the one that knew what to do, always the one who could think clearly in every situation. I couldn’t stand the sight of blood, my own especially, ever since I was a little kid, and I froze up at the sight of it. Marissa and Dana pulled me towards the door to my house, and sat me down at a chair in the kitchen. As Marissa was pulling a box of band-aids out of the medicine cabinet along with a tube of antibiotic ointment, Dana was putting soap and water on a paper towel to clean my knee.
“Eva Marie Rodgers! What happened?” My mom asked when she walked in from the kitchen, taking the paper towel from Dana’s hand and continuing to clean the cut.
Dana launched into the story, starting from when we were looking for the blanket, ending where I discovered the wound. My mom just shook her head at us, laughing quietly before putting about three times as much antibiotic ointment as was needed on my knee and covering it with a band-aid.
“Well, I guess you girls have always been kind of crazy. Let’s just not go anywhere beyond cut knees, deal?” My mom said.
“Definitely!” Marissa answered with a smile, before pulling me and Dana back outside.
The three of us spent the rest of the day laying on the blue blanket outside, and when the sun changed sides in the sky, and we were no longer in the shade, we had actually fallen asleep, exhausted from our shed endeavors and the heat. Dana and Marissa each had lobster red skin, whereas mine was just slightly darker than before. I guess it was one of the blessings that I had received when I was born, I had never burned in my life.
We also all woke up with the frizziest hair that I have ever seen. It was worse than any other summers before, and we all laughed at the odd directions of our hair. Ah, how I love the laziness of summer time.
After dinner with my mom Dana and Marissa each went home for the rest of the night, though I’m not sure what they did for the hours of the night, because I know that I certainly wasn’t able to sleep.
Monday, March 7, 2011
Intro
“How do I forget?” I screamed, tears glistening on my eyelashes. “How do I make it all go away?” I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to hold everything in. It was only when I was alone that I could afford to unlock the mental doors that I keep shut snugly most times. My parents were both out, and I knew that I only had a little bit longer until my mom would come home and drive me to ballet, but I was too mentally exhausted to keep myself composed any longer. I tried to breathe, like the therapist taught me right after it all happened, but my lungs and my brain were not in sync. I may have been barely twelve years old back then, but I still remembered everything in vivid detail, three years later. It was times like these when I wished that my sister was still living at home with us, not across the country taking summer courses at some college in California. Taylor was the first person who I told about what had happened, about what I now refer to as The Incident, even though it really wasn’t much of an incident at all.
I could still see myself in my little twelve year old body, shaking as I knocked on my sixteen year old sister’s open bedroom door. She looked up from notebooks that she had strewn across the bed, and immediately saw the tears building in my eyes. “Come here, Eva. What’s wrong?” Taylor asked me, pulling me into her lap and wrapping her arms around me. I began to tell her my story, having to pause multiple times as the sobs shook my entire body. By the time I had finished Taylor was crying too, stroking my blonde hair and telling me that it would be alright. When the two of us finally calmed down after two or three hours, Taylor held my hand and led me downstairs to where our parents were watching the news on TV. She sat and held my hand as I re-told the story to my parents, until the four of us were all crying together.
The sound of the garage door coming up pulled me back into the present, and I got up from where I was sitting on my bed, wiped the tears from my eyes, and began to yank off my frayed sweatpants in order to put my tights, leotard, and shorts on. I grabbed my dance bag, slinging it over my shoulder, and slipped my feet into my purple clogs before pulling my hair back into a neat ballerina bun.
“Eva! Are you almost ready?” My mom called up the stairs. On a normal Saturday both of my parents would bring me to ballet, and the rest of the day would be a family day, but not today. My dad was in Ohio on his annual business trip, and my mom was babysitting her best friend’s three year old twins while they were away at a funeral.
“I’ll be down in a second, Mom!” I looked into the mirror one more time, making sure that I wasn’t showing any more evidence of the agony I had been in just moments before. My family loves me, and is there for me through everything, as I already knew, but I just couldn’t bear to cause them any more pain by allowing them to see mine.
“Okay, sweetheart. The O’Harris twins are still in the car, so just come right out when you’re done.” I lingered for an extra moment outside, breathing in the fresh Spring air, before sliding into the car.
Ballet was one of the only places that I was ever happy anymore. I could just let the music carry me, and flow gracefully with the rhythm. Ballet never bored me, no matter how many hours in a week that I spent practicing the same dance. I was never too tired for ballet, and the friends that I had made at the studio were some of my favorite people in the world. Everything came out in my dancing. My pirouettes and plies show the turmoil and destruction of my past, exemplifies my happiest moments, mirrors everything in my life.
The other girls in my classes were my best friends, the people who I hung out with on the weekends, the people who I giggled with at three in the morning during sleepovers. Even our teacher, Ms. Claire, was easy to talk to. Classes were a blast, and we were our own mini-family. Everyone at the studio knows about what happened with The Incident, but there are very few people who understood how deeply I had been affected. I tried to be strong in front of everybody, I saw how much it had hurt them when I told them how badly I had been hurt, and I wouldn’t let them see me in that much despair ever again.
I walked into ballet a few minutes late, and the other girls had already begun to warm-up, so I hurried to fill the gap between Rachel and Dana. We were about two weeks from our recital, and I was doing a solo dance that I was so excited about. Ms. Claire had allowed me to do most of the choreography myself, and this was my favorite one ever. It was slightly above my skill level when I first started creating it and rehearsing, but I mastered it fairly quickly. Everybody was impressed by the dance, and though I had been extremely shy since The Incident, ballet was the one place that I was not afraid to stand out.
After class Marissa and Dana, my two best friends in the entire world, walked up to me, water bottles in hand. “Eva!” Dana squealed, “Guess what!”
“What?” I asked, slightly out of breath from our faster paced dances.
“Chris finally asked me out!”
“No way! That’s awesome, Dana!” I tried to sound excited for my friend, but I was worried that Chris would hurt her in the end. They always did.
“Yes!” Dana was smiling ear to ear.
“I told Dana that we would help her get ready before he picks her up on Friday night, right Eva?” Marissa said. I nodded.
“Of course.” And I knew that Marissa and I would sit in Dana’s house the entire time that she was out, and then the three of us would have a sleepover, and Marissa and I would hear all of the details. This is what I loved about the three of us, though, our predictability. I didn’t like things to come as surprises to me, even before The Incident. And I was always super protective of my friends, just more so after what I’d been through. Right?
I could still see myself in my little twelve year old body, shaking as I knocked on my sixteen year old sister’s open bedroom door. She looked up from notebooks that she had strewn across the bed, and immediately saw the tears building in my eyes. “Come here, Eva. What’s wrong?” Taylor asked me, pulling me into her lap and wrapping her arms around me. I began to tell her my story, having to pause multiple times as the sobs shook my entire body. By the time I had finished Taylor was crying too, stroking my blonde hair and telling me that it would be alright. When the two of us finally calmed down after two or three hours, Taylor held my hand and led me downstairs to where our parents were watching the news on TV. She sat and held my hand as I re-told the story to my parents, until the four of us were all crying together.
The sound of the garage door coming up pulled me back into the present, and I got up from where I was sitting on my bed, wiped the tears from my eyes, and began to yank off my frayed sweatpants in order to put my tights, leotard, and shorts on. I grabbed my dance bag, slinging it over my shoulder, and slipped my feet into my purple clogs before pulling my hair back into a neat ballerina bun.
“Eva! Are you almost ready?” My mom called up the stairs. On a normal Saturday both of my parents would bring me to ballet, and the rest of the day would be a family day, but not today. My dad was in Ohio on his annual business trip, and my mom was babysitting her best friend’s three year old twins while they were away at a funeral.
“I’ll be down in a second, Mom!” I looked into the mirror one more time, making sure that I wasn’t showing any more evidence of the agony I had been in just moments before. My family loves me, and is there for me through everything, as I already knew, but I just couldn’t bear to cause them any more pain by allowing them to see mine.
“Okay, sweetheart. The O’Harris twins are still in the car, so just come right out when you’re done.” I lingered for an extra moment outside, breathing in the fresh Spring air, before sliding into the car.
Ballet was one of the only places that I was ever happy anymore. I could just let the music carry me, and flow gracefully with the rhythm. Ballet never bored me, no matter how many hours in a week that I spent practicing the same dance. I was never too tired for ballet, and the friends that I had made at the studio were some of my favorite people in the world. Everything came out in my dancing. My pirouettes and plies show the turmoil and destruction of my past, exemplifies my happiest moments, mirrors everything in my life.
The other girls in my classes were my best friends, the people who I hung out with on the weekends, the people who I giggled with at three in the morning during sleepovers. Even our teacher, Ms. Claire, was easy to talk to. Classes were a blast, and we were our own mini-family. Everyone at the studio knows about what happened with The Incident, but there are very few people who understood how deeply I had been affected. I tried to be strong in front of everybody, I saw how much it had hurt them when I told them how badly I had been hurt, and I wouldn’t let them see me in that much despair ever again.
I walked into ballet a few minutes late, and the other girls had already begun to warm-up, so I hurried to fill the gap between Rachel and Dana. We were about two weeks from our recital, and I was doing a solo dance that I was so excited about. Ms. Claire had allowed me to do most of the choreography myself, and this was my favorite one ever. It was slightly above my skill level when I first started creating it and rehearsing, but I mastered it fairly quickly. Everybody was impressed by the dance, and though I had been extremely shy since The Incident, ballet was the one place that I was not afraid to stand out.
After class Marissa and Dana, my two best friends in the entire world, walked up to me, water bottles in hand. “Eva!” Dana squealed, “Guess what!”
“What?” I asked, slightly out of breath from our faster paced dances.
“Chris finally asked me out!”
“No way! That’s awesome, Dana!” I tried to sound excited for my friend, but I was worried that Chris would hurt her in the end. They always did.
“Yes!” Dana was smiling ear to ear.
“I told Dana that we would help her get ready before he picks her up on Friday night, right Eva?” Marissa said. I nodded.
“Of course.” And I knew that Marissa and I would sit in Dana’s house the entire time that she was out, and then the three of us would have a sleepover, and Marissa and I would hear all of the details. This is what I loved about the three of us, though, our predictability. I didn’t like things to come as surprises to me, even before The Incident. And I was always super protective of my friends, just more so after what I’d been through. Right?
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