The Date of Death Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I lay on the ground, trying not to be drowned by the water pouring down. Mud had caked the bottom of my boots and I was completely soaked. I had been runnin up the hill to my house to avoid the rain. I had slipped on the water streaming down, landed on my back, and slid backward all the way to the bottom. It knocked the wind right out of me. I was able to get to my knees and I took a minute to catch my breath. I walked back up the hill, much slower than last time. I made it to the top of the hill and saw my house. All the lights were off and the rain poured off the roof. Once I made it to the porch, I tried to open the door, but it was locked; my mom kept the door locked all hours of the day. But what time is it? I was known to spend anywhere from five minutes to several hours under the willow tree. I reached for my bag to get my key, but discovered I didn’t have my bag. I looked down the hill, which was now dark and menacing. I let my head drop and sighed. I couldn’t even see the bottom, but I knew my bag was somewhere down there covered in mud and darkness. I walked around my house looking for a way in. I could try to climb the tree that led to my bathroom window, but I could only see the bottom branches and I would probably trip on the slippery wood. There was also a high chance my mom locked all the windows, too. I went back to the porch, cupped my hands around my eyes, and looked inside the window. All I could see was a darkened version of my living room.

What was worse? Waking my mom up at an unknown time in the middle of the night or going down the hill in the blackness getting wetter and searching the ground until I found my bag? I went up to the door and pushed the doorbell. I heard a scream and someone running down the stairs. I waited patiently as my mom slowly opened the door.

“Hello? Who’s there? Thana, is that you?” Her voice was shaky and unsteady.

Who else would walk to the top of a hill when it was raining in the middle of the night? “Hi,” I said calmly, as I opened the door fully.

She just stared at me, taking in my appearance. A minute later, she was still silent. She moved her mouth, trying to say something. Maybe she didn’t recognize me. I lifted my arm to brush my hair out of my face; it had come undone sometime during my fall. “Ah! Don’t touch me!” my mom screamed and slammed the door in my face.

I let out a breath; my mom could be paranoid sometimes. She didn’t like when I was out alone. She insisted that it was safer to be with her. “It’s me, Thana. Please let me in,” I said to the shut door. I hoped she would open the door without an argument. However, today wasn’t going so well anyway.

“Prove it,” she said through the door. I could almost hear her dialing 911 on her phone.

“Mom, it’s Dad’s birthday. I lost track of time, sorry. Please let me in.” I saw the door crack open and I barely had enough time to brace myself before my mom threw open the door and pulled me inside. Once inside and the door was shut and locked, she pulled me into a hug. I leaned away from her body, trying to avoid contact.

“You scared me so badly!” She finally released me and I took a step back. My mom stared at me and said, “Why are you covered in mud?” Then she looked at her watch. “It’s twelve forty-six! Don’t you have school tomorrow?” I nodded. “I would get out of those wet clothes and into bed.”

I walked upstairs to my bedroom. Halfway up, I turned. I saw my mom watching me go up to my room. I continued up the stairs then turned down the hall and went into my bedroom. I took off my mud-covered shirt and looked at it. I couldn’t remember what color it used to be. And my pants weren’t any better. I crumpled my shirt into a ball and tossed it in the trash along with my pants. I put on black sweat pants and a white T-shirt. I went into the bathroom, looked into the mirror, and sighed. My face was muddy and my hair could be brown, but I couldn’t tell. I got a washcloth, wet it, and scraped the mud off my face. I scrubbed and scrubbed, and then I pulled it away. My face was raw, but clean. I threw the cloth to the ground and grabbed a brush. I pulled the brush through the tangles and mud that resided in my hair. Ten minutes later, my hair was still a mess. Surrendering, I put the brush down and threw my hair up in a messy bun. I shut off all the lights and climbed into my bed.

Falling asleep was a challenge. I didn’t really like nightmares. However, I allowed my mind to drift off to my mom. People said that I looked like her, but they’d never met my dad. I like to say I looked like my dad instead. My mom and I used to be close. We would play games together, read, and watch TV, but now, not so much. How could you watch TV when a person was dying or getting killed on screen? All I could think when I saw some actor dying was, You’re not really dying, you’re dying in fifteen years. It was even worse when watching old movies when the actor was already dead. I would think, You’re already dead. Stop dying all over again. I would rather read because sometimes a character’s death was unexpected. Drawing people was also good, but to make a picture look realistic, you had to add the numbers. At least to me…