Fear

A Story by C.A. Richards

Memories can sometimes be your biggest weakness, but they tend to make you stronger.

The walls shake under the force of his fists. And not even my music can cover his horrible yelling or my mothers cries. I'm frozen under the bed in my small pink room. My Barbie dolls left in a pile on the floor where I abandoned them as the screaming got louder. Something shatters against the wall and Mommy screams.

I try to ignore them. I reach my small hand out and grab one of my dolls. Making up a story for her to play out. My favorite way to pass the time. Finally the yelling and crashing stop and all that is left is my Winnie the Pooh C.D. playing through the horrible silence. No one is yelling or crying anymore. But that's when the horrible feeling in my belly gets worse.

I want to run to Mommy. I want us to run far away and never come back. I decide that is what Barbie will do. She will get in her bright pink convertible and she will drive as fast as she can to get away. But we learned the hard way running makes it worse. Loud thundering footsteps sound from the hallway and make their way out the door. His large van roars to life and peels out of the driveway.

I finally crawl out from under my bed and wait. I know what will happen next. My white bedroom door creaks as it is pushed open gently. Mommy peeks her head in half her face pale and beautiful the other dark and bruised. Her blond hair is half in a ponytail; a large chunk flowing free of the band. Where he has pulled at it.

She sits next to me and pulls me into her lap. I don't like this part. It makes me sick. Her sobs fill my room now. And I can feel her hot tears in my hair. Her frail hands shake against my shoulders and back where she tries to comfort me.

"I'm sorry. So sorry. Please."

It's become a habit to hold her now. I move us so her head is laying in my lap. I let her long blonde hair free so I can gently run my fingers through it because that's what I like when I'm sad. I sing along to the music filling the room and play with her hair while she cries and apologizes over and over again.

'BUZZ. BUZZ. BUZZ.'

My alarm startles me awake. My heart pounds in my chest as I search my room. Dark purple walls greet my eyes and a large Paramore poster hangs over my desk. My hands shake and I'm struggling to catch my breath as the heavy feeling in my chest lessens.

"We are fine. He's not here. I am safe."

I usually feel ridiculous talking to myself. But the words calm my spinning head and the world becomes a bit more bearable. My alarm buzzes loudly from my desk across the room. Mom had to finally put it there where I would have to get up to turn it off or I would never join the land of the living.

My morning routine is pretty basic. Dress for the day which usually consists of a witty tee and some shorts, or ripped jeans. Grab my phone which has all my music and make my way downstairs for breakfast. A delicious, sometimes hot, Pop-Tart. Yum.

Oddly thought this morning when I get downstairs the smell of coffee hits me. Pancakes sit on the table along with strawberries and some sausage. Really odd. With mom being a lawyer our house is usually empty due to her heavy case load. Her way of dealing with the past is putting guys like my stepfather in jail.

Yet this morning she stands in the kitchen stirring milk into her coffee with a pen tucked into the bun at the top of her head. She is taller than me but not by much. Other than that it's like looking in an aged mirror. Pale skin, bright green eyes, blonde hair, and a round face. Making us both look much younger than we actually are.

It's an interesting thing. Looking at someone I admire so much and yet hate more than is possible. My nightmares play in the back of my mind reminding me of our past.

"What are you doing home?"

She smiles warmly at me and her eyes crinkle. She looks amazing for almost forty years old and I can only hope I age like she does.

"I don't have to be to court until later so I figured why not do breakfast."

We sound the same as well. Our voice the exact same soft and sweet with a hollowness hidden in its depths. I hate the dreams. They bring out the horrible little person inside me who hates everything and sees the wickedness in the world.

"I don't have time this morning. I promised Ali I would help her study for our Chemistry test this morning. She's heading over now to pick me up."

I know better than to look her in the eyes. So I stare at a freckle on her forehead just above her eyebrow. She whispers something but I don't take the time to listen. Instead I grab a slice of toast off the table and make my way towards the front door.

I almost turn around but my phone buzzes and a new text message pops up on the tiny screen. So instead of having a heart to heart with my mother I walk out and into the excruciating heat of Alabama and make my way to my best friends bright red convertible. She smiles bright her long black hair looks blue in the sunlight. She's an exotic beauty taking after her Hispanic mother. Basically my opposite in every way.

"My boo! I missed you so much there are no words to describe it!"

I smile at Ali and climb into the passenger seat. This is why we are best friends. No matter what from my past comes back to haunt me she can always make me feel better. And with the music blaring and the wind blowing through our hair we make our way to campus and I let go of all the anger and heartache from before. Right now I'm a sixteen year old girl with her best friend going to school.

Unfortunately we take too long at Starbucks and are late to first period again. Mr. Grettle passes us both a bright yellow slip for detention this afternoon seeing as how this is our fifth tardy in the last month.