I wake up with a sigh as I head upstairs to begin making the dinner for my father and his, very much so uninvited, guests. I pull out various pans and kitchen utensils. I begin to make Swiss Medley by mixing the veggies with swiss cheese and topping it off with dried, fried onions. I throw that in the oven, as I check on the ham I have in the crockpot. When I finish making all sorts of dishes, including slush cake, a ham, swiss medley, mashed potatoes, candied yams, chocolate and peanut butter fudge, chicken, and much more, it is already early afternoon. I decide to take a break and sit at my table, tracing the lines the oak wood forms. I let put a sigh as tears stung my eyes at the thought if being alone once again.
I was just getting used to this warm feeling that I get when I am with people and feel included, but I just had to go and scew it up. Back to the dark pit of loneliness I go! I suppose it would be for the best, though. I don't want to hurt anymore people. I get up and get a glass of water, looking out the kitchen window at the tree that stands there by the fence. Once i am done, i set the cup down in the sink, and turn around to continue my cooking adventure. I make many different cookies and some stuffing. I decide I may as well make a salad and some garlic, cheesy toast for them tonight, as well. I take out the Italian loaf of bread that still has yet to be cut, and cut slices of it off until there is no more. I melt down butter in the microwave, while placing the bread on the pan. Once the butter is done being made, I put a little bit on each slice, followed by garlic, dried parsley, and cheese on it. I pop it in the oven and check on my ham that is still in the crockpot. I take out the honey glazed goodness, and place it on a nice plate. I feel my mouth water and I feel my hunger rise.
This isn't for you.
I take out the bread and neatly arrange it around the ham and chicken. I begin to set the table and, ironically, as soon as I finish I hear the door open and shut, followed by an angry looking dad. "Who the hell was the boy that was hear yesterday?!" He booms.
I shrug as I take some of the dirty dishes to the kitchen and begin washing them. "I'm not sure. He's from school. I remember seeing him in the halls a couple of times and I think we have a class together, too. Maybe not." I shrug again. "He came over and started to question me about a lot of stuff to do with the upcoming football game. I tried to tell him I wasn't interested, but he was very persistent. I guess he has never been rejected before." I respond, as I place another dish in the dish strainer, after rinsing the soap off of it.
He puts his hands on his hips and his crazy gaze is on the window as he sucks his teeth. "You going to lie to me again?" He asks, his gaze still on the outside world.
"W-what?" I ask sheepishly. Suddenly, I am pushed up against the wall, my hands above my head and my heart going so fast, Flash would be envious of it. I feel my father's hot breath fan out over my face, as I squeeze my eyes shut in anticipation for the impact of a smack.
But nothing comes.
His grip is so tight on me, I know it will bruise. "Do you dare to lie to me?! Do we need another lesson!" He yells, causing me to flinch.
"N-no, sir." His grip tightens on me, and it hurts. Terribly. "P-please... you-you're hurting me!" I just barely manage to make the words leave my mouth.
"Who. Was. The. BOY!!"
"No one!" I manage to find my voice. He pulls back and looks at me, and I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.
"You flirt around with my guest tonight, or try anything at all, the punishment will be to show you who's you really are. Remember that no one likes a slutty whore, not that anyone will ever come to the means of loving you anyway. No one other than me, that is. You know what- just stay in your room. Don't come out until you leave for school, do I make myself clear?!" He growls.
"Y-yes, sir." I look down at my feet and feel my bottom lip quiver, trying to force tears to spill as I swallow them back down to my hole of darkness.
"Well? What are you standing there for! He will be here any minute! Get your lousy ass downstairs now!!!"
I only nod and head down to my bedroom, and the smell hits me again. I just can't get that terrible scent to leave! I walk over to my desk and pull everything out, throwing it all over my room. I push everything off of my nightstand, too. I throw books, pillows, papers, my phone, and pictures around. I open the drawer to my nightstand, and I pull out the first thing on top: a picture of my mother and I. I look at it, and I can no longer hold back my tears of anger and hurt. "WHY DID YOU HAVE TO GO?! WHY DID YOU LEAVE ME!" I yell out as I throw the photo across the room with a scream. I give a few huffs as I hear the glass shatter before turning around to look at it. I run over to it and the glass is so shattered, the picture looks cut off in some places. I fall to my knees, still sobbing and carefully pic up the frame that contains my beloved picture, watching as the glass slides off of it. My shoulders shake as I sob and hold the picture in my shaking hands. It's a picture of my mother in a beautiful yellow and white polka dotted sun dress, that tied behind her neck. Her brown hair cascades about an inch down from her shoulders, held neatly in loose curls, parted on the left side of her head. Her eyes are a bright blue and her lips are plump and pink. Her skin is quite fair, almost a sickly white, but she is beautiful nonetheless. She's holding a mini me, my hair unruly and down to my shoulders, as I was quite young when this photo was taken. She tied my hair back in a half-up-half-down hairdo, in an attempt to make my unruly curls looks pretty and neat. The hair tie is red and has a red bow at the top. I'm in a light blue jean-skirt overall, with a red t-shirt underneath, and my white and red sneakers that I loved oh so dearly. My cheeks are red, probably from the sun that was beating on us. Both her and I are smiling from ear to ear, laughing even, and she is looking at me with complete and total adoration of her child. I'm laughing at the camera and the wind was just blowing past us, a light breeze it must've been, since our hair was only slightly moving to the side.
I feel a small smile creep on my lips remembering that park with the seagulls. I let out a breath and my shoulders begin to shake as I sob, holding the photo to my chest. "I'm sorry, mom." I cry out. "I'm so sorry." My breaths are uneven and I begin to rock back and forth, as an attempt to calm myself. I only sob louder, though. "I wish I could be like you..." I whisper. "I'm sorry I can't be strong like you."
I get up and walk over to my bed, not minding the glass mess nor the mess of my room at the moment. I'm frustrated with myself and everything that is going on in my life. I could have it so much worse. I tell myself that often, as it is the only thing that keeps me moving. I sit on the edge of the bed and stare the the frozen in time object that is encased in a beautiful wood frame that her and I made at a woodshop. Then an unwanted memory flashes in my mind: the one of her in the hospital.
She looked so sick and scary with all of these tubes connected to her. I was terrified of her sickly appearance, but was even more so at the thought of her leaving me... forever. I had cried in her chest, the day she died, and she sang me her lullaby. I had fallen asleep in her arms, only to wake up to what I thought was an alarm, but now know that it was actually the pulse monitor going off, as she died.
I lay my head down on my pillow as silent tears fall from my eyes. I bring my feet up onto my bed and clutch the photograph to my chest again, not wanting to let go. I cry myself into a blissful sleep, only to experience the same nightmare, over and over again, as I cry in my sleep. It's the dream of my mother, as she lays there in the hospital bed and deteriorates right before my eyes.
Only this time, I don't just become captured by the darkness, the ash, the lightning.
I absorb it all, all of the heated electricity.
And I break from my prison with an ear piercing scream.
I break out with the anger of my mother's death.
I break out with the frustration of my father's hatred.
I break out with the sheer will of myself.
I feel myself become powerful, as if I were ready to take on a thousand worlds.