My mom was on the computer buying me a new comforter and bed sheets in a matter of minutes.
I felt horrible.
I had outbursts like this at least once a week, usually I walked to the garage when I felt the urge to get angry. That way I could beat the shit out of the non-living punching bag. Usually I would calm down in a little while, and I would walk back into the house as if nothing happened.
Sometimes I forgot to leave the rooms; Like today.
At the moment, I was in the bathroom staring at the large mirror. My hair was frizzy and tangled, sticking up in the wrong places. My hair came down to the middle of my upper arm, and even when I brushed it, it still looked like a mess. I clipped the hair out of my face, and once I did I realized that I shouldn't have. My eyes were red, and had large bags beneath them. My face was still slightly pink, and shiny, tear stained. At this moment, I was glad that I wasn't fond of make up, because if I was wearing it I would look like a prostitute.
I washed my face with a damp towel and then walked out of the bathroom again. I looked up and down the hallway. It was still a bit unfamiliar even though we've lived here for a good seven months. The longest we've ever lived anywhere since I started getting the dreams.
I still missed the big brick house I first lived in. My fingerprints probably still lingered on the dusty floors. I missed my big pink room filled with teddy bears, and dolls. I would sit in there for hour combing plastic hair, and dressing dolls to match what they were doing that day. I missed the innocence, before I knew about sex, drugs, diseases. Before I knew about what the world really was once you uncovered all of the layers of sweetness.
What I missed especially, was what the family was. Happy. Genuinely happy. Yes, we are a very strong and have very many joyful moments. That doesn't change the fact that I'm constantly worried about, and I'm probably the reason for my mothers few gray hairs.
I mean, who would want to have a kid like me? A spoiled brat who still wants to kill herself although there is nothing wrong in her life.
Tomorrow was school. Well that is obvious because it is the middle of December, and usually at that time, kids are in school. Tomorrow would be a Monday. People always described that as a bad day because its the day that everyone dreads. No one is ever like.. "Yay! Its monday! The day I most likely have to work or go to school!" Except of course, me.
At school I was a calmer version of myself. I had friends who cared about me, but none who knew my past. I had the closest thing to a best friend which was Ryan Gonza, and I trusted him with most things. I had teachers who hated me, and teachers who I hated. I had lunch at a lunch table, and the food was only a bit better than the rest of the schools I've been too. I usually didn't have anything worse than a panic attack at school, which was pretty good from my past experiences. For some reason this placed calmed me.
I trotted into my room and gently closed the door. I begun picking up my items, anything that was broken was thrown into the black garbage can in the corner. My iPod was luckily unharmed in my acts of anger. The picture of Monroe still smiled down at me.
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"Dinner!" My mother shouted from the kitchen, I got up from my spot on the floor and walked to the kitchen. I made sure to notice the difference of when my feet hit the carpet to when they landed with a thud on the hard wood floor, and then the cold tile. I don't know why, so don't wonder.
I took a seat in the chair next to my dad, and stared at my plate. I smiled. Mac and cheese with chicken.
"Thanks mom." I said before shutting my eyes.
God is great
"Your welcome sweetie!" She said digging in.
God is good
"This chicken is great, sweet heart." My dad said, chewing softly.
Let us thank him for our food
"Well I made it so duh." She replied, her mouth full.
By his hands we all are fed
Give us lord our daily bread.
"You gonna eat Emily?" My mom said, looking concerned about my un-touched plate.
"Amen." I replied, digging in with my fork. I got criticized by my science teachers and some peers about my belief. But when I kept having dreams like this, sometimes turning to light and believing in goodness over evil, and a place better than earth, sounded better than believing in nothing.
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I love you
I love you too.
He chuckled pushing hair away from my face. He kissed my mouth, I felt my eyes close as I wrapped my arms around his neck.
He kissed more urgently, and pressed my body to his. I sighed heavily and let him pick my thin body up and press it against the wall. I felt so small in his arms. They were large, and somewhat pale. A scar trailed from his earlobe to his collarbone. I ran my finger over it, and he pressed me harder against the wall.
I was in love with him, I could feel it, I wanted to feel more of it. I wanted him to hold me closer , tighter. He started to kiss my neck and then laid me down on the large bed. For some reason I was okay with this. I felt safe. Once it started to happen, the door was knocked down. I screamed and looked over at the man..thing that just walked through the door. His black suit was torn and sort of bloody. It wasn't his blood on the coat.
Some how I knew this man. I hated him. I jumped up and grabbed the lamp at the bed side and tossed it at the man. He dodged it and came forward with the large weapon in his hand. He swung it behind him, and I knew I was a goner.
I closed my eyes and waited, but when the hammer came down, it didn't hit me. Warm blood covered my body, and I felt it crawling all over my skin.
"NO!" The man shouted, and I screamed the same word.
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"NO!" I screamed, leaping out of my bed, and finding myself completely clothed. I took deep breaths and looked around, wiping the tears off my face. My alarm clock began to buzz and I smashed the snooze button, and cracked the screen.
"Dammit." I fumed, grabbing clothes from my closet and started for the bathroom. My skin still felt damp and sticky and I sure as hell wasn't going to leave it that way.
I jumped into the shower and let the water wash off the remains of my dream. I cried. Just like I did every day that I woke up with my dream infatuations blood on my body. I felt an emptiness in my stomach. I missed him.
I got out of the shower and towel dried my hair. Put on my clothes, and walked for the door. Ryan would be here any minute.
I was correct, he was already in the drive way honking the horn on the Granny Van. I smiled and trotted to the van and hopped in, buckling my seatbelt and smiling over at Ryan.
"G'mornin' Emmers." He said, backing up the van and turning up the radio. 98 rock, what else could I expect? He flipped the brown curls out of his dark brown eyes and smiled over at me.
"How was your weekend?" He asked, turning down the road opposite from the street going to the school. I frowned.
"Horrible, but where are you headed?" I asked cautiously.
"No offense, but have you seen your face Em? You look like shit." He said, carrying out the word in sing-song form. I rolled my eyes and chuckled. "You look like you need some good ole' ice cream to cheer you up. So, I'm taking you to Sammy's and getting you two scoops of your favorite strawberry ice cream in a cone." He said, looking proud of himself. He pulled a ten dollar bill out of his pocket and fluttered it in front of my face.
I laughed loudly and snorted. Which made Ryan erupt into a series of chuckles, I honestly thought we were going to die in that car.
We were still smiling as he pulled up in the parking lot, and he stuck his pointing finger up to tell me to wait. He got out and ran around to my side, opening the door and helping me out.
"Mad-moosel, ice-a cream-a is-a on-a me-a." He said, in equally horrible French and Italian accents. I smiled and began walking towards the small, white ice cream shop. So, maybe today would be alright after all.
