Silent Red

To this day I don't know how we were able to see her through all that rain.
The raindrops fell heavily on the windshield making it nearly impossible to see what was up ahead as my mom and I drove on the dark road that leads up into the mountains. I can't quite remember what my mom was talking to me about; maybe my latest bad grade in history or my lack of extracurricular activities�"she was always chastising how a young man like me should get out more. As we turned a corner, she appeared, collapsed in the road. Her red jacket caught my eye and made me cry out to stop the truck. The tires were inches from her head when we finally came to a stop.
No one knew who she was.
In the hospital, detectives and nurses filled the hallway outside her room. My mom and I were asked the same questions again and again but we were just as ignorant of who she was as they were. I managed to sneak away for a moment and peek in her room to see how she was doing. She was still asleep and all I could see were the bruises that blossomed on her face…and her wrists. Small scars scattered across the surface of her small white arms. Pain surrounded her in a deep black aura.
Somehow my mother was able to convince the detectives to let the girl stay with us. She reminded them that we were local and easy to reach. We had a spare room in the house and the town's high school was only two blocks from home. Since the girl never told anyone of her identity, mom had the police people write her name down as Amanda. In a matter of days, the mysterious girl was situated in our small home.
The first few weeks Amanda stayed with us were tense. Most of her wounds had healed by now and I could see her face clearly. She had high cheekbones and a small mouth with dark, full lips. Her black hair was full of tangles that hung limply on her head. Her eyes were the most striking part of her: a deep forest green. However, she would always look down if she saw someone staring at her. Amanda reminded me of an alley cat the way she walked around the house, silently lurking about. If you accidentally came behind her without her noticing you, she'd jump up suddenly and back away. I made a note to myself afterwards to make lots of noise as I walked through the house so she'd know where I was at all times
My mother ran a bakery in the heart of town. Our house sat behind it and doubled as the bakery's kitchen. The smell of fresh pastries always permeated through the rooms and hallways making any visitor hungry for my mother's home cooking. The store was very popular with the town and always full of people.
It was a magical place. Mom's plump little arms were constantly in a blur around a bowl, making small cakes, muffins, and cookies almost out of thin air. She loves to decorate the bakery with scenes from fairy tales and children's stories. One month it was Hansel and Gretel with little gingerbread men lining the windows, the month after that it was Alice in Wonderland with small tea cakes sprinkled with powder sugar. When Amanda came to our home, she made green tea cupcakes with a sea-foam icing and hung blue and green streamers on the ceiling in honor of The Little Mermaid. I've always wondered if my mother knew how sick and twisted the real versions of those stories were. They were tales where evil step-mothers poisoned their daughters and wolves devoured young girls. So much blood and death; they were nothing like the Disney movies my mother played in the bakery.
I helped my mother in the kitchen every day after school. Usually I would bring in the large sacks of flour or take the freshly baked pastries from the kitchen and set them up in the bakery. When Amanda came to live with us, she would sometimes come out and just sit at the round table in the kitchen. She never talked, only traced her fingers over patterns of lace of the tablecloth and stare at us as we worked. When she did this, mom would make her up a mug of hot chocolate sprinkled with cinnamon and start rambling about her day, or the weather, or some random piece of news she read in the paper. Mom never forced her to talk or asked her questions, but I knew that Amanda was always listening to my mother's words. I think it must have helped her stay in touch with reality.
Even though the bruises were gone, Amanda still carried the pain with her. Sometimes, I would find her curled up in the sun by the window with her arms over her chest, defending herself from the nightmares that haunted her. But I could see some improvement in Amanda. She gained weight and her pale skin began to have some color. I knew my mother was helping her. Her patience and maternal love was putting the life back in Amanda, little by little. But I had no idea how to help. Even with my careful steps around the house, Amanda always stayed a safe distance from me. I wondered why I scared her so much. She was always wary of me no matter what I did so I stayed away.
One Saturday, I was putting up garlands of autumn leaves along the walls of the bakery while my mom showed Amanda how to put up curtains in the windows. They were a bright red since mom decided she wanted the theme that month to be Little Red Riding Hood. Mom baked banana chocolate muffins and apple pies for the occasion. When we were all done with the decorations, mom gave both me and Amanda a muffin and stepped out to check on a batch of butter cookies cooling in the kitchen.
I sat across from her and watched her as she picked out all of the chocolate chips in her muffin. A faint hint of a smile seemed to hide itself from the corners from her mouth. She gathered them all up and was about to eat them when I heard the door behind me open. I saw the color drain from her face as she stared, wide-eye, at the person who walked in. I quickly turned to see a large man with a shaggy beard glaring at Amanda.
The large man wore a dirty work shirt and sturdy brown hiking boots. He stared at her for a long silence and then slowly growled out the name, "Christina." His eyes were full of anger as he took one step towards Amanda. She flinched and trying to escape, ended up falling from her chair with a loud thud.
Before the man could take another step, mom had come back in, hearing Amanda fall, and instantly put herself between the man and Amanda. I have never seen my mother angry until then. Her expression was as fierce as a mother bear protecting her cubs and nearly screamed at the man to leave. Before he could react, the door opened again for a noisy group of teenagers. With a large group of witnesses, the man didn't dare to retaliate against my mom and left, knocking over a vase of flowers.
The vase shattered into a million pieces.
After that scene, mom quickly called the detectives. Over the phone, she quietly gave the details to them while I cleaned up the broken pieces of the vase. She closed the store early, before nightfall and locked every door in the house. Amanda became frantic and wouldn't leave her room no matter how much my mom pleaded with her to come out. After dinner, I made up my mind to wait outside her room in case she needed something. I didn't move from my spot and must have fallen asleep at some point because I suddenly awoke to the sound of shattered glass coming from inside Amanda's room.
I could hear Amanda scream and the sound of someone falling on the floor as I broke down the door. In the dark, I could see a large figure crouching down with a rope to tie up Amanda. That man had come to take her away. Before I could really think of what I was doing, I rushed at him and rammed him into the wall. The man struck me and his fist felt like a rock smashing against face. I screamed at Amanda to run as I grabbed him, preventing him from reaching her. As I fought I could hear footsteps running up the stairs and my mother's voice rang out, telling me to stay down. I never knew my mom kept a gun in the house or that she knew how to use it. The shot rang through the air and suddenly, the man's entire weight came down to crush me.
I had passed out and later awoke in a hospital bed. I could fell that my lip was split and my right eye had swollen shut. Through the door, I could see my mom being questioned by the police just like several months before. Amanda entered my room with an expression of fear and concern in her eyes. I then noticed her bandaged hand. She saw me looking at it and painfully moved it away.
"You can tell me if it hurts." The words came out of my mouth before I could even think. Her eyes welled up with tears and she began to cry. She seemed to cry for all the years of torment, for all the fear and pain that man had given her, and for all the pain she thought she had brought to our family. I held her as she said over and over again how sorry she was; the sound of her voice strained from the lack of use. I whispered into her ear that we would always be there for her because we were her family now. She didn't need to fear the wolves that chased her in her nightmares anymore. The dark fairy tale had ended and sunlight had broken through the forest.

Author's Note

I know the end is a little rushed (I've been meaning to fix it!), but besides that, how do you think I can improve it?
Critiqes are welcomed and appreciated!

Reviews

[daydreamer]

yes it is sailing smoothly throughout captivating our imagination. The story is well scripted. it brethes life into all the characters. Probably you could deepen the mystery sorrounding the mystery man and bring him into light giving his and relationship to Amanda more space:)