Young Writers Society

Heres it is... sorry about length

Chapter 2

Honey, amber eyes but they quickly began to darken and harden into black granite. As the rocks glinted, my whole body lifted off the soft darkness and when I opened my eyes, I was looking down at my room. My body was perfectly still as if it had stood that way every night and my veins pulsed hysteria. Most of my nerves had reattached. Émile must had carried me up and put me in to my bed. I was almost vibrating while trying to sit back down. I hadn’t returned from my frozen state but I felt clammy. This frightened me, for this to happen. When my mom saw traumatic things on her shifts in the emergency room, she would always dream about them and jumped up out of fear. She said it was like it was happening all over again. I thought she was crazy.

Uselessly looking in the faint dawn, I found that I was still dressed. Willing to stay in jeans, I rolled myself up tightly, placing my head between the pillow and my knees. Holding my breath as long as I could, strained to exhale through my nose, easing me back to the darkness and I became haunted by pools of fossilized resin.

***

Falling slowly agonizing an almost restful speed. The leather had a cherry wood-like finish to it. Its stainless steel buckle captured the same sickening glint in the dim light. Just as the buckle managed to stop its self, making a slight impact noise and its strap rippling behind, my eyes flashed open.

“Natalie, dear wake-up it’s mom.” Gently spoke as she was rubbing my arm. That brought me to sit up. The lamp beside me as turned on.

“What’s the matter? Is everything alright?” My eyes were bulged open and my voice was a gasp and groggy.

“Natalie, its six pm, are you feeling alright? I came in at noon to make sure you were breathing and took your temperature.” This was a tone from Nurse Daisy Mallard. She continued “Nathan is on his way over.” Of course he was on his way over, he lived with us. He had been for about five years. Sometimes she couldn’t grasp the concept of change. My expression shook her back to reality. “ Right” was all her response.

“Mom, I am one-hundred percent fine. I’ve just been up later than usual and it finally caught up to me.” I looked her straight in those rimed shamrock eyes that were dull from working a week of night shifts. They were analyzing the truth behind mine.

She sighed “Supper will be ready in a few... don’t tell me your not hungry, you’re eating regardless” her golden curly hair tussled around her shoulders as she held her hand up and bounced of my room. Her slightly round body’s shadow vanished down the hall.

I climbed off my bed, planting my bare feet on the sturdy laminate floor. It felt out of place at first with my knees like that of jello. I grabbed a blouse hanging on the of my desks chair and headed for the bathroom.

Flicking the switch brightened the already bleach white ceramic and stung my eyes. Swiftly closing the door behind me, I quickly turned the faucet on and let cold water wash over my icy skin. Unfortunately, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror staring at me. My thin light mousey strands where damp and astray around my neck. It was different seeing my hair so short, last time I had looked it was half way down my back. My emeralds, a family trait, casted a new cloudiness and shadow beneath. Tracing over my cheek bones as a new faint red streak connected it with my jaw line. My pulse increased its beats per second as images of its creating flickered through my spinning thoughts. Jolting my whole head under the tap seemed to slow everything down. The glacial streams nicked every nerve back under the ice, deep into darkness.

As my mind stood stiller a grabbed a recognizable bottle off the counter and lathered its fragrant liquid in my hair. It made sense since I was already there. After attacking my hair with a brush I reached out for the other blouse when I noticed coin sized yellow bruises around my wrists. I frantically switched my shirts; spread some gunk on to keep my clear skin clear and shot down to the dim kitchen wanting for someone to press fast forward.

The setting sky glowed through the glass patio door, highlighting the set china ad good silverware on the table angled in front. That was my mother’s part in the preparation. Only the fact that I lived with them, I knew Émile began cooking early that afternoon and as I to my right there he was, smirking at me, tossing a salad.

“Look, the dead lives!” He stated as he made his way towards the stove. I was sure he was the only the only one in the house who knew how to use it.

“Is there anything I can do?” I was desperate for normality.

“Nope. Listen, are you feeling ok?” As sincere as each time it was asked it vigorously inverted me.

“I’m fine really. What’s for supper?” I was willing to talk about anything else. Émile lifted up one perfectly marinated and broiled pork chop. “So when are you going to teach me?” I had been pestering him the whole summer. But our conversation was quickly interrupted by echoing giggles.

There he was, my mother on his arm, Dr. Nathan Cecil. A tall structured man, his chestnut hair streaking grey at the sides and his baby blues dull from working almost every late shift for nearly twenty years alongside my mother. They were the best of their rank, Head nurse and emergency Doctor.

“Natalie, how are you feeling? Should I...” Nathan stopped as I held up my hand and repeated once again that I was fine. But I knew that Nathan wouldn’t accept that as quickly as my mother.

“Natalie could you bring me some candles from the living room?”

Without even knowing it, my mother opened one set of connecting double doors to a moment of peace, a chance of gathering the straggling few pieces left astray from the rest of me. The hum of clinking corning ware in the metal sink and Émile and Nathan competing to tell the mother of all dirty jokes faded behind me as I entered the dim, elegant living room. In no rush, I watched my reflection pass in Émile’s glossy, up-right piano, his personal key to life. Passing my mother’s violin, it became evident how tuneless I was in a home full of melody. My only compromise was a pair of pointe ballet shoes, sitting in the rocking chair in the far corner. Out of desperation, it was my mother’s genius thinking and slightly expensive remedy for my clumsiness that for the most part didn’t help.

I lifted a twisted piece of metal, trying to balance the candles held in frosted bulbs. Holding my breath to smooth the motion, it rushed out in a gust when I heard heavy steps then a large palm on my shoulder blade.

“Are you sure you’re ok?” Nathan whispered, concern bleaching through.

“I’m fine, really. Did she ask...?”

“No, I thought you might want to speak in privacy. You know you can talk to me, no matter what it is.”

“I know. I’m just a little crazy that’s all, you know that. Now supper is most likely ready so let’s eat.” By this time I had bitten through a piece of the inside of my lip. Keeping the rusty blood behind required me not moving my mouth.

I steadied my shakes and forced the corners of my mouth to curl upwards. Nathan held out his hands and began removing the center piece from my hands when he hovered and gently touched my darkened forearms. My pulse increased and my head began to spin. I tried to shrug “I fell and my friend caught me, a little too hard.” He sighed, took the candles from my hands and mimicked my false smile.

I shadowed behind and closed the connecting doors. I took my place at the table, gracious for the coolness of the solid wood chair as it released a weak tranquilizing affect. I focused in on my plate, chewing everything more than necessary and sipping water more than usual. Doctor and Nurse where chattering in code about their patients and like most seventeen year olds, Émile was inhaling whatever was in front of him would occasionally comment with short sentences and syllables. As crazy Daisy began clearing the table into the dish washer, Émile and Nathan began dragging me in to conversations mostly about school, sports and the one thing I hated the most, well running a close second, cars.

“That reminds me, Natalie, while you were off in la-la land someone called about your driving test for Tuesday. They will pick you up at school at two thirty. Try not to crash the car or kill anyone, especially on the first day back to school.”

“Give her some credit Émile, you’ll do fine Natalie.” Nathan reassured.

“There are nervous drivers and then there’s Natalie. She even failed her permit test five times.” Émile was defiantly not Jobes Comforter.

“It was once!” who cares how much tire tread or pressure you have in your tires, right?

“Émile, knock it off! I mean it! Nathan, why don’t we go for a walk while it’s still early?” Mom always knew how to end conflicting opinions between her children ever before they truly escalated.

In my peripheral, the sky beyond the glass patio was jewelled a deep navy. Mom tossed the dish towel, ringed in her hands, at the sink and clung to Nathan and echoed a quick “we shouldn’t be long and behave yourselves” out through the hall. I heard one more giggle before the faint sound of the front door sealing. I jolted up and wanted to bolt back to sanity but was stopped when a symphony began to ring from the living room and pulled me towards it.

Forever awed by the air quality movements of Émile’s hands over the keys. Watching only his hands, he never looked up to the guide lines. Then finishing with twinkling, high pitched tones, he looked up with inquiring and anticipating ever greens.

“I don’t know how we’re related?” My head shaking

“Why would you say that?” his eyebrows creased together

I sighed “It was flawless, as everything beautiful.”

“ Thanks my boss gave me some more sheet music so that means less cooking and more playing.” For Émile it was just switching between breathing from his mouth to his nose, he couldn’t favour. “Natalie,” his said after a pause, “don’t sell yourself so short.”

“Okay” I couldn’t take another inquiry, “We’re not talking about me anymore. So did Oliver get home alright?”

“Yeah, the guy got luck. His parents didn’t even notice. Heather just slipped him under the radar, though I’m sure his wasn’t as fortunate when he woke up. Heather called.”

“I’ll call her tomorrow. So...uhm... does have... you know... a... girlfriend?” That was difficult to spit out, I wasn’t sure I wanted an answer.

“No. Rosaline is after but the dumb-nut has turned her down about six times. Not that I like her but she seems his type. Come on I’m going to be late!”

“Oh, whatever will they do if the Hotel Aulmity’s rising star is late.” I tried to tease but I knew I was not convincing.

I desperately fought the heavy sigh building it’s self in my chest as I followed Émile up our hard wood steps. Rosaile was beautiful, exotic and perfect. Every male in Aulmity’s high wanted her and I faded easily. She was charmed and untarnished.

“Here.” Émile handed the fabric to me. Looking up he already had is white dress shirt on. At least I knew how to tie a bow tie.

“Émile you have to button it up first and stand up the collar, don’t you have to put your pants on.” I hadn’t noticed that he was wearing his pyjama pants all evening.

“Wow. Your really out of it.” We both rolled our eyes, “hand me my blazer”

“After” I protested, my hands wrapping and tightening, “There was that so painful?” I said after straitening his collar.

“Nope, thanks.” He bowed his head to kiss the top of my head before running out the door, grabbing his blazer off it’s corner.

I was half way down the stairs when I heard the front door close. Passing by the table at the bottom I caught a glimpse of a letter amongst the junk and bills; The father, Clide Duncan from Vancouver to Aulmity’s Daisy Mallard. He couldn’t marry her when she got pregnant with Émile and then a year later left her five months before I was born for a frog, as Daisy called her. Never met him and at that point it didn’t concern me.

I looked at the time on the ovens digital clock which read the time I was looking for. Nine pm, a reasonable tie for anyone to go to bed. Knowing Mon and Nathan, they would be called in for over time and stay for a day or so for something to do. I turned off all the lights as I made my way back to sanity. It was a muggy night so I just hauled off my blouse and jeans to relieve some of the icy heat. Before sliding between my sheets I swallowed a cold medicine capsule or three to ensure a dreamless escape. Pulling an over sized shirt over my exposed body I could feel the tingling, numbing sensation that normally I hated form at the back of my head. Racing to the bathroom to brush my teeth before my brain became that of cotton was an easy defeat.

Falling into the pit that was my bed sheet helped spread whatever was filling my head through the rest of my body. Coursing through my spine, leaching through very vein, pouring into the very tips of each limb but waiting for it to consume my core only emptied it more. Frozen in a hollow state, I couldn’t feel the ach or my mind clearly analyze the agony gnawing at my organs. My eyes began to fill and stream in thick paths, spilling out on my pillow. The lack of control then only made it worse when tried as I reach for my MP3 and failed. I was stuck in a torturing surreal reality with no way to fade away, folding my limp legs up, fighting the fear that realization as I began to slip in a more accepting darkness.