I was currently looking out the window. Heavy streams of rain dripped on the oval-shaped glass making the view blurry. Yet I could see everything as it was. New York was beautiful, it was everything one had dreamed of. It was the city that never sleeps. Only if I had been here under different circumstances.
The city lights had lit up everywhere at night. It had looked like the fourth of July. But something about it was more extraordinary. I remember once I had sat on the edge of a cliff. Once I had looked forwards my breath had been stolen from me.
Tiny colorful lights were scattered all over. Flashes and signs had stood out. It was the most breathtaking view that couldn't be captured in a painting. Each night was different and that's what had made it special.
The parties were the highlights of my nights. Sweaty bodily fluids had rubbed against each other. A few people's bodies were stuck together from sweat and sticky booze. We danced until we were tired then repeated the night all over again the next day. Our ears had rung from the night before but we didn't care this was the city that never sleeps.
In New York, no one had cared who you were. Underage drinking happened a lot here. But no one had cared enough to ask for id. It was paradise here for teenagers like myself. Teenagers who wanted to party their life's away until the responsibilities had clung onto them.
New York was an escape from the real world. It was the place you could go without feeling judged. I had grown to love New York as my new home. But all good things must come to an end.
There is no such thing as forever, in the end, it all remains the same. Good things grow old and become forgotten memories. Ones we keep locked in the back of our heads.
The seat I was sitting in had felt hard and extremely uncomfortable. It reminded me of sitting in a wooden chair with no cushion. This is the result of ordering plane tickets off a sketchy website. They were the cheapest and quickest ones I could find. I didn't think twice once I had entered my credit card information. Who even decides to buy plane tickets at the last minute? Apparently, me.
My past had begun to resurface as I glanced out the window and seen it was raining heavily. What were the odds? Had it always rained once something bad was bound to happened? Would the same wind pressure that had struck down a tree on my neighbor's car reappear also? My thoughts had echoed out loud as if someone was speaking them.
My head leaned back into the hard seat that had an oddly odor to it. I fluttered my eyes shut to collect my thoughts. Three years had passed since that day. Yet it was still fresh in my mind as if it happened yesterday.
It was my reality that turned into a nightmare. A nightmare that I had lived in for the past three years. It was a Friday spring break had begun. I had gotten out of school early due to classes being cut. But I hadn't gone home straight away. Maybe if I had all of this could have been avoided.
Instead, I was at El's house watching her try on dresses. Josh who was a friend of El's had invited us to a party. Me and El had no plans for the week so we had agreed. El had picked out my outfit for me. I was that type of girl who had just gone with the flow.
Looks wasn't something I had cared about back then. But El had insisted what I had been wearing was boring. I had ended up wearing a strapless crop top with high waisted and heels that night.
The wedges I had worn made clicking noises once I had stumbled up the porch steps. I had held the railing for support. My body had dripped with sweat. I remembered feeling sticky and dirty at the time. My body had reeked of cheap booze from doing body shots. I had known my parents had work and didn't get out until six am.
The heat from our small four-bedroom house had always felt welcoming. It was a warm blanket wrapping around you on a cold winter night. But nothing had felt welcoming as my four-inch heels clicked throughout the house. It was suffocating. The air was potent making it unbearable to breathe in.
My mother had taken this beautiful home and tainted it with her own two bare hands. Everything living had begun to withered up and die in her presences. She was death. She sucked the life out of everything until all that remained was a hollow empty shallow, I had called home.
Her voice had lingered in the air, echoed. The horrific memories of my past had resurfaced. Slowly playing out, one by one. It was torment. A child with an oval rounded face and dark raven hair was crying. Snot and tears had stream down her face.
Her eyes were puffy, swollen red from all the crying she had done. Clutching on an old teddy bear her father had gifted her for her 7th birthday. Even with one eye missing the girl had loved the bear more than life itself. That girl was me.
At the time my body had twisted and turned. Making a directed exit away from the memories that had tormented me and swallowed me whole. The marble floor had slowly turned into dirt.
The dirt had mushed together, slowly opening up, inside was pitch black, an endless pit. The edges of the hole had roses around it. The prickly torn stems had wrapped around my feet. Slowly sinking them, dragging me down.
The stems had held me in place. Forcing me to relive every event. But each corner was a different scene playing out. My life was a photo, captured in different photo frames. One where everything was perfect.
But after the photographer had clicked his camera, the smiles would fade. The only glass covering the photo would crack and break. Sending each shatter in a different direction.
"CELIA!" my mother's voice had boomed and echoed throughout the house. Sending waves and vibrations down my spine. Nothing about the tone she had used was friendly. Once I had glanced down, I seen the stems slowly unwrapping themselves from around my legs.
The stems had traveled down the hole slowly disappearing. The hole began to close back up until I was staring at our marble floor. It was as if I had imagined the whole thing. The memories from my childhood had slowly blurred until nothing had remained.
I rubbed my eyes a few times then blinked. The little girl was gone I was staring at an older version of myself. The glossy brown marble floor had reflected against me in the dark. Blinking my eyes again to adjust my vison I glanced over my shoulder.
Her long dark raven hair was placed neatly in a bun. Not a single strain was out of place. Her dark blue eyes had found my light brown ones.
My mother was sitting in our living room in the dark. Her hands slowly moved up revealing an empty liquor bottle she held out with her hands. "Where were you?" her voice was calm, too calm. A storm was stewing, slowly waiting happen.
I straightened out my back and wiped my hands against the fabric of my jeans. "Me and El had a last-minute group project that was due." those were the only words that had flown out my mouth at the time.
My mother had always talked to me in the same voice she had talked to her clients. Maybe that's what made her more intimating at the time.
"Ella?' she scoffed "that girl ain't nothing but trouble it seems the apple doesn't fall far from the tree."
"that's not fair of you to judge her based off her parents." I whispered. My mother was a proud woman. She had believed hanging out with someone like El would tarnish her name. Drag our family's name through the dirt. El's father worked at a small oil company.
El's father had no college degree. It drove my mother mad once she had found out he gotten a job at a rising company with no college degree. She had a harsh way of thinking; she had believed spending time around Els family would somehow poison me.
"Celia, we don't associate ourselves with people like them." each time I had bit my tongue once she had said those words. Those people had been nothing but kind to me. She had judged them by their lack of education.
"No?" she stood and began to walk towards me. Each step slower than the last one. The closer she had gotten the louder her heels had clicked against the floor. Her feet met mines and my head fell down in shame. I had felt her gaze piercing holes into my skull.
Her nails trailed up my arm until it had fallen over the thin spaghetti strap. It was uncomfortable my body had squirmed. I wanted to pull away at the time but I never did.
"You're breath reeks of alcohol Celia and you come home stumbling through the door. With no bookbag, no papers. Then on top of that your dressed like some cheap hooker."
My cheeks had reddened from embarrassment. When I didn't respond she continued "I found all those empty bottles of alcohol in your room Celia don't you dare lie to me." her voice was firm but had raised.
My body went still from her words. "There not mine." my hands had found my legs, gripping them until I had dug my skin through the skimpy cheap material.
"The empty bottles scattered all over your closet aren't yours either?' her words had come out more of a statement than a question. Tears filled my eyes but they had refused to fall. In that moment I had wanted to scream on the tops of my lungs. Until I couldn't scream anymore and I was left gasping for air.
She walked away clicking her heel harder with every step into the kitchen. Her footsteps echoed against our marble floor. Each step caused items around the house to shift slightly on the dressers.
"I can't do this anymore. Celia, you have a drinking problem. It's out of control I'm sending you to stay with your aunt until its dealt with." her words had pierced me to the core. The tears had fallen off my face.
Her words were harsh and final. She had known and did nothing to stop it from progressing. Each time she had let me down a piece of heart had cracked. I was left bleeding opened. Breathing but slowly bleeding out.
Then eventually all that would be left is an empty shell of a person. The younger version of myself had reappeared. She stood right next to me, offering her hand. Her right hand holding the teddy bear while her left hand waited for mines. Dried tears had stained her tan skin.
She had watched it all go up in flames. The fire would never die out. Instead, my mother words had sparked it more. She had added fuel to the flames. Each word triggering new tears to form. Instead of letting go of my hand she had gripped it tightly. It was warm and reassuring, telling me that everything would be ok. Maybe not right now but soon.
"I need help." I had screamed out but the words never left my lips. The words were on the tip of my tongue but were never spoken. Every time the right words were meant to be said they would evaporate into thin air. Washed away along with the rest. Lost and never to be found.
She had turned her head, refusing to look at me. To see how much, I had needed her in that moment. For her to put my head in her chest and tell me everything would be ok. In the end, she had pointed at the door.