The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window--and her father was there. She could feel him from the way he moved, as if he were still wearing his coat and hat. Her mother had gone on vacation. It hadn’t been the first time, but it was certainly not their last. No, this one would be different. This night wasn’t going to be like any other.
Her feet had so many things on them, she had no idea what they were. They felt warm and fuzzy, as though someone else might have tried to pull them off and rub them off, but she couldn’t remember anyone ever doing it. She never minded, but she was too tired to care, or maybe just plain numb. At least, that’s what she told herself. When she lifted her foot up to her mouth to take in the smell of pine and honeysuckle against the cool air of the forest, the scent seemed to linger. There was something about how familiar her father smelled—like earth, and her fingers were sticky. Something about a warmth she didn’t know existed between her skin and the softness of the floor. All the hairs in her body rose up, and all the pressure felt in her eyes.
She knew better than to look. If anything happened, she could still tell she was in some sort of dream. Maybe her dad was somewhere else, watching over her, keeping her safe. Or perhaps he was sitting across from her on an old couch with food in front of him. Either way, he looked pretty good; there was nothing wrong with the way he had a beard and wore his clothes. His face was kind of sad and tired, but he was a nice man in a dark suit, white shirt, and tie. He always looked really sharp and serious when he wore that uniform. That one day when she was little and asked why she didn’t have a dress or sweater, he said she was perfect. Even then he was saying it. And he looked at her every night before bed, before he went to sleep and thought about her every single night.
But that day, he was already asleep, and she was awake, and they lay there together, talking and laughing to each other about whatever happened the previous night. Finally, she fell asleep. But even then, she could still hear him. She felt cold and hot at the same time; she could see him and the light in those deep slumbering eyes. One minute she was feeling happy and loved; the next she saw her father curled up, snoring. Sometimes she felt that she was trying to go back and undo everything, make another family, make another home, but she couldn’t shake the memory. The tears that came were blurry and ran down her cheeks. Tears she had forgotten that were real tears. How could she have forgotten that? Why had she allowed it? Wasn’t that what we did—to allow ourselves the chance of forgetting the pain? Just like her father? What had he done to deserve such selfish choices? Would it be okay if she forgot everything? For her father, yes? Or, should she forget everything all the time and live happily ever after? Maybe just forget it all. So much happiness. So many memories. Couldn’t she just get along without the pain?!
She blinked slowly. She was finally awake now. She blinked again. Where was she? A strange place she didn’t recognize. “How did I get here?” She whispered. Her parents were in a house in Montana called Red Deer. About thirty minutes away, by car. Her mom was crying quietly, while her father sat quietly staring out the window. She wasn’t afraid for her parents—they were both very caring and supportive people. They were both sweet. Both women. Then there was her sister who was being molested at age fourteen, and they had to move out of their apartment because their landlord wouldn’t let them stay there with their friends for money. The man who molested her then killed himself after that. Her grandparents took her mother and father in. They were nice people! They were also her best friends.
But it sounded like something was up with her parents. She felt anxious, curious, and confused. Was her father still here? Did he want someone else with her? Who would he be? Had he died of natural causes? She remembered having a bad dream the night before, about a man dressed up as Darth Vader coming back into her life and helping her find a new family, and her parents weren’t there—she was just sure of it. Maybe they were playing hide and seek with someone else. Oh God, she said to herself. Someone else. What did the dream mean? Her heart raced, not knowing what she was dreaming about. Nothing else made sense. Yet, something seemed off. After realizing this, she realized that her heart wasn’t beating fast enough. She was probably right. She needed something to calm her nerves. But what was happening? Not only had she never seen her father before, she knew that she didn’t know how to act around him, or even speak. Everything seemed strange, and she wanted to scream in terror, but she couldn’t do it. Instead, she closed her eyes and opened them again. In her dreams before, she had dreamt that she was walking into a room full of her family, but when she woke up, she found nothing. Of course, that wouldn’t have worked this time either. She was alone and scared, but maybe she was imagining the whole thing? Or maybe she was scared of something? Perhaps she really was dreaming, or she was awake, and someone was looking at her.
Her mind started tingling, which is normal for her, as every girl her age does. Although, when you’re fifteen, even fifteen year olds can sometimes get nervous about girls, especially if they’re making crude comments about your looks. So it was surprising to her that she suddenly recognized herself in her mom’s bathroom mirror. She reached up to her chin. She looked down, wondering which one of the girls was standing behind her. She had a lot of growing up to do, she mused to herself in a way that made her cringe, like she was speaking to herself. Yes. She did feel scared. But then it occurred to her that she was the girl standing at the door. It made sense. Surely she heard me. Didn’t look at me like that. But she must’ve been looking in my face. The two girls that are standing, she thought. Were those girls… her? Were they her? Damn. There were five girls in the picture of hers. Every girl in existence. Five. Fucking. Girls. These were her friends. She had forgotten about a few of them, but they always made her smile. Each of them was unique and special, but she saw the same girl standing behind her, with a black, curly hair. Dark green eyes, brown skin, freckles. Eyes that sparkled like fire. She felt dizzy with excitement but knew she was more scared than anything. There was no way they were her parents though. Those girls were older than she. Probably 20. Most likely, she thought, they were her brother’s girlfriends at school.
They were moving in two months, anyway. With the boy’s parents who were super nice and understanding of her situation and her feelings, as long as she was OK. They were great. But they had no respect for her. None of them did, but who knows? Things could have changed for the worse if she were one of those girls that was bullied. Especially considering that she hadn’t wanted boys in the past. Now, she wished she had. Her friend group had been filled with guys who liked their shirts hanging off their boobs, boys who liked to kiss girls when they were drunk—and boys who liked to hit girls in public. And she hated them all. Well, except for her boyfriend. He was sweet, charming, funny, and he liked her too, even though she liked his dick better. They were inseparable. They did cute shit together and talked about stuff other girls didn’t because she was the center of attention, she had learned. Yeah, there were problems but she did her best to keep them away. Nobody ever got hurt by them. Except maybe one guy who kissed her in front of everyone, after she had given him oral sex. That would’ve ruined our friendship, she thought. The rest of the girls didn't even notice. They were so stupid to make fun of her and her friends. And she wasn’t even close to getting pregnant. At all. But she liked her boyfriend, and they were good. Really good. We were always hanging out together and going camping every summer and dancing every now and then. It was all so good. But something was missing. They weren’t being nice anymore, or caring, or loving. They were using her. Using her friends. Being nasty. She felt violated,
No comments:
Post a Comment