Chapter 7, Something From The Past

Where it all started

                “Hi Jason, thank you for coming in today,” she said with a wide smile stretched across her face, I couldn’t distinguish if it was meant or fake like people normally do with me if they don’t want me to feel bad. The seat where I always sat was in the same place than the previous week, except the cushion was missing.

“Where’s the cushion,” I asked in a voice just above a whisper. My eyes jerked from corner to corner in the room, seeking something I don’t know, but I just didn’t want to look in her eyes.

“I am so glad you could make it, I know how hard it is for you,” my eyes met hers for a split second; the same feeling of shame flushing my insides. “My daughter took it home; she likes it for some reason.”

                “I like it too,” my voice was again just a soft hoarse whisper. Her eyes were glowing with joy as she looked over to me. I couldn’t help but make a small attempt to smile back.

“Let’s talk a little bit about school, how has it been going for you there? Have the boys stopped teasing you,” she asked the moment I sat on the chair. I liked the chair; it was soft and comfortable, unlike the chairs at school where we have to remain seated of seven hours.

                “It’s better; they left me alone after the incident,” I looked down at the ground, mumbling the sentence from the guilt I started to feel again. I sat up straight again and this time looked her in the eyes for a long period of time. A tear drop started to form in my eye socket; and rolled down my face. It fell on my black jean, almost exploding into smaller drops of tears. “Let’s just cut the bullshit, when will this get better,” I asked with a louder voice this time. The smile on her face faded away and turned into a neutral face.

                “It takes time,”

“I didn’t mean to do it, I didn’t want to do it, she just,” I started to cry from the guilt, the sorrow, the self-pity.

“You have to come forth with what you done, you have to stand up for the consequences,” the tone in her voice changed to a more demanding voice. I looked into her eyes and saw the flames in her eyes of rage, of hate. She stood up and opened the door, and shouted loudly, “Police he is in here!”

 

The alarm clock flashed 6am; a loud buzzing noise that irritated me. I sat up straight and felt sweat beads rolling down my back. With haste I looked at my wrists and held them with my hands. No scratch marks, it was only a dream I convinced myself at the end. The moon still shone outside, darkness covering the city, people still fast asleep while I am awake. I looked down the road out of my window and saw two old people running down the hill. I had the urge to hit the window and run down to them and tell them what I did, but I lacked the confidence, the guts a real man had. At the end I walked to the closet to put on my school clothes like a normal boy, like a normal kid.

 

What I feared for months happened; I walked into her on the way to school. Amy had long blonde hair hanging down the back of her body, blue piercing eyes that looked straight through you. She saw me coming and stopped. Hate was in her eyes like the girl’s in my dream.

The pain spread across my face as her hand slapped my face. I deserved more than that, I deserved death. “I am sorry,” I mumbled out on the street when two birds flew over my head. “I know you hate me,”

                “You did it when I said don’t do it, you did it anyways,” tears started to roll down her face while she looked me in the eyes. I looked away from her gaze as the guilt built up to a point I couldn’t take it anymore. “I hate you.”

Author's Note

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Reviews

[Cascara (aka Sprint Goe..]

This kept me in suspense.

[EMF]

Real nice work. Got a good strong narrative and flow. It moves at a great pace and keeps you reading. Great job

[Dahlia Phoenix]

One can take so much but guilt will always be the enemy of man. What occurred is something that could've have been prevented but how can one forgive such act of irrationality. A dark piece where dreams are tormenting and forgiveness is hard to receive again.