Truth and Illusion

When I think hard, I can still see bits and pieces of my old life. My mother was always working hard to provide us with a home, so we could have all we needed. My father went away often, but still came back whenever he could. I didn't cry. We had a small house near a lake. It was yellow, with a wooden door in front and two small windows. Mother would always water flowers in the morning and drink tea in the afternoon. My father would always go fishing. They always said I was their pride and joy. 

But, now, even if I try, I can't remember what their faces looked like. 

''I have to go now,'' she said. 

''Take care, Beth.'' 

Her head dropped down as she grabbed my shoulders. She stayed silent for a few seconds. 

''You too, Amelia.''

I opened the door for her and she slipped away, jumping over piles of rocks and building remains. 

She waved at me, and jumped into her helicopter. 

''Amelia! That boy you were looking for, I hope you'll find him,'' she shouted. 

And she was gone. 

It was almost evening and I had to lock my door, window and curtains closed. All lights were turned off. 

I felt the cold air on my cheeks, and a drop of sweat gliding down my neck. I stayed silent as I heard smaller rocks falling and scratching the surface of bigger rocks. I couldn't see anything, but I could hear everything. It was still too early and I couldn't get to my bed in time. I could only stand in the middle of my room, listening to the scratching and knocking, glass breaking and water splashing. They loved light, loved it so much they wanted to break it. It was easier to live now than before. The screams were so often, they'd drive you crazy. 

But now, all you can hear is the knocking, and scratching. 

Knock. Knock. Knock. 

I turned around, looking at my bedroom door, light peeking underneath.

Knock.