Chapter 2: Memories

“You are such an awful child.”

“You don’t deserve to live.”

That’s funny it sounds like my parents but why do I hear such a high pitched scream in the background? It seems that I’m at my house however I’m outside instead of in. It’s snowing although the house is on fire. I can almost feel the heat, I’m far from it so how can I. My feet start leading me to the door. It was a nice door, simple. A dark mahogany that seemed to sparkle and crackle under the flames. My footsteps don’t cease even though I’m almost touching the fire; I don’t fight it. Why should I? I know this image is just a dream. I’m sleeping but I want to see why I’m here again.

I enter the house, no burns on me. I can still feel the heat however.

I walk down to the basement where my parents would be. I walk down the cold cement steps only to be greeted by the scars of that memory. The fire looked as if it wasn’t really on me but entering my blood stream and trying to consume me from the inside out.

My mother was yelling at me about how dreadful I had become because my grades had been slipping. I wanted to slap her but I just took a seat on the steps and watched. I knew I couldn’t do anything so that is what I could do. The blood curdling shouts wouldn’t stop them. At that moment I had realized how insensitive my parents truly were.

I was watching for many minutes when everything started to haze away. Before it completely went away the fire suddenly turned into a giant Phoenix.

I awoke with a start but almost immediately calmed down. I glanced around at my surroundings remembering the series of events that occurred last night. At that moment an overwhelming pain took over my body. I gazed at my burns to see that they were fine however they were sore.

“Phoebe! You’re awake! I thought you were in pain because you were groaning last night. I put an ice pack on your burns but…Hey? Are you even listening to me?!”

All he does is talk; I wish I had some duct tape for his damned mouth. I dragged myself into my wheel chair, ignoring his cries for me to listen to him. I started to steer myself toward the door to go to Willow’s house. I know she isn’t there but her parents must be or something. If not, I know where they keep the additional key.

“Hey! Where do you think you’re going, Phoebe?”

I only but glance at him to find him tremendously livid. Must be from all the yelling and crying he was doing.

Snickering to myself, I open the door but then I realized the steps. “D****t.” I cursed to myself slightly. There was no way I was making it down the steps. “I feel so f*****g useless. Then again I know how to walk so maybe if I-” I took one step out of the wheel chair only to plummet downward the rest of the stairs.

I heard laughing from behind me and looked up to see Zayne. This is one of the reasons why I dislike him; he doesn’t care if you’re alright or not. Zayne only cares if he can be amused by the situation in front of him. My arms quivered as I tried to raise myself up, only to drop back down to the ground. This only seemed to interest Zayne more. I heard footsteps and laughter come up behind me; I was then lifted into the air and seated back into the wheel chair that was know on the ground beside where I was.

Zayne was in front of me, “I won’t let you leave until you at least tell me where you are going.”

I glared at him.

“Just to a friend’s house, that’s all.”

He hesitated but stepped out of the way and let me through.

 

I look up at the apartment building.

“Well if it isn’t Ms. Phoebe. I see you’re out of the hospital. How are you, anyway?”Ms. Genson, the landlord here is the nicest person here but she can be sort of a gossip. When I went into the hospital, she told some of the tenants that knew me that I went there because my brain exploded.

But you didn’t hear it from her.

“I’ve been fine Ms. Genson. Are Willow’s parents’ home? I need to get something from her room.”

“Nah, they aren’t home yet, darling. But you know where the key is. Just head inside, I won’t tell a soul.”

‘Thanks.” The good and very convenient thing about this apartment building is that fact that it has a ramp for the handicapped. I get to the first floor and get the key from the plant container. I go to the room labeled ‘The Kelly’s’. Unlocking the door, I hear the faint click of the lock gears turning against each other. The knob was like ice but it felt nice on my skin. I glance inside to see the very tacky furniture that Willow’s mother seems to enjoy. I wheel myself inside and turn into a small girlish looking room.

It was a light purple room with flower paintings on the wall. A small black and purple bed sits in the corner along with an oak wood dresser. I made my way over to the small dresser and scrounger whatever clothes were left in there. I pull out a short sleeve blank white V neck and black shorts. I strip off the hospital robe I’ve been wearing since I had escaped from the hell hole.

When I got off the robe, I looked in the full mirror behind her door. I was a mess; my body was in shambles from the flames, I kind of reminded myself of a marshmallow that was only burnt on one side. The perfect marshmallow in my perspective. My hair was almost gone but at least my skin was starting to grow back some.

I looked around her room for something that would cover my head. I found a bandana with the logo from the amusement park that comes around every once in awhile. I wrapped it around my head making sure that some of the hair that was left was still peaking through. I put on the clothes making sure not to severely hurt myself, grab one of her many pairs of plastic sunglasses, and head out again.

“This probably wasn’t the best idea. However, I must brave through this torture until Willow gets back from England. Maybe she would let me stay at her house for awhile until we head out for college. Or maybe I should have talked to Ms. Genson about letting me stay in the yard in a tent until I could rent an apartment. Then again maybe I could just go live under a bridge with some hobos and we could do hobo things together. Now I’m just talking nonsense. Why don’t I just go find Zayne and stay there until Willow comes back? When did I start becoming crazy?”

Why was I just talking to myself? I think the burns are the least of my worries, maybe I got brain damage.

I wondered the streets for a few hours, getting strange looks from people here and there but nothing to live changing. Until Zayne showed up with some of his buddies from school. At first I thought nothing of it until one of them came up to me, “Well, if it isn’t Phoebe. What the hell happened to you, s**t? Someone get to depressed?”

“No, Jessica. I just tried to burn away the memory of the first time I met you. The fact that you came up to me with such confidence must mean that you just had sex. To my understanding you don’t have the right to ask me such personal questions seeing as we aren’t on a personal level. But thank you for wasting my time.”

Jessica is probably the most perfect girl from her looks to her “fame” in high school. Underneath that perfection, however, is a girl that has been through three pregnancy scares and has slept with almost every boy in the school. We used to be friends back in elementary and middle school but when we hit high school she transformed into a scary moth rather than a beautiful butterfly.

Her current play toy is Randle who is just an average guy but he takes everything particularly serious.

“Don’t you dare speak to Jessica like that! She is the picture of perfection and much more and where are you? Stuck in a wheel chair.” Did I mention that he has a temper? I looked at Zayne who seemed to just fade into the backdrop of the situation. He was shifting from foot to foot as if panicky which I don’t blame him at all. His friends are just flamboyant, not in the good way either.

I twirled around and decided to go for a stroll somewhere I won’t be bothered. The best and only place I would go is the park however it’s all the way across town and I don’t feel like going there. So instead I think I’ll go to the Lankston River. It’s only a little ways away from where I am. I used to go there as a kid but discontinued going because it brought back too many memories that I didn’t want to remember. However I felt in the frame of mind to go over my history and why I felt so secure then.

By the time I got to the river the sun was beginning to set. The sky had turned a beautiful shade of purple and turquoise with a dash of pink here and there. The remaining sun glistened through the trees and down on the water. The clouds looked as if a painter had brushed them on with a fan. Some crickets were loud enough to be heard; they created gorgeous music together. Small fish played in the river without a care in the world. Lily pads were hovering over the water and glided against the surface when a frog hopped on one.

Everything was perfect. Then I started to remember.

“Mommy! Daddy! Look what I found!” They strolled over; my mother had a happy expression, something I haven’t seen in a long time. My father seemed carefree which is what I missed the most from him. “What did you find, Phoebe?”

I showed them the object, a stunning red flower with blue specks on the inside. My mother took it in her hand and shortened the stem to fit it gently behind my ear. She bent down, “It looks gorgeous.”

She was calm back then, which is what I missed most about mother.

My father was possibly the best person in the world when I was younger. At this river he would bring me here on sunny days to play me his violin. The melody of his playing was so magnificent it would end up drawing a crowd. He would transition through songs until the sun was visibly gone and the crowd would dwindle down. At that point the stars would twinkle against the navy blue sky. My father always loved the night; he would take me for a wander into the trees until we got down to a big hill. The air would dance around us in the open field, his deep voice would just whisper stories about the moon and the sun. I always knew this story was really how he fell in love with my mother but this would keep the story more free feeling.

 

 I smiled, a sad smile; these memories made me exhausted because my emotions would get all mixed up however I refused to cry. The memories of my past weren’t worth any tears due to the fact that they were happy.

I was happy.

The world was happy.

.

.

.

Then it changed.

Author's Note

(Word count: 2,026)

Reviews

[The Pain Stays Fresh]

Just as good as the first chapter. Keep it up. :)

[Jamal]

yay i'm the first to comment