If You Could Go Back - Prelude

I have decided to kind of step outside of my normal writing ability and try something new. I've never written a story that surrounds reality - what the world really is and what people really go through. Of course, there will be some supernatural mayhem going on (I can't resist ) but for now, I really want to capture what some people really do go through in their daily lives. I hope you can connect with my main character in one way or another during this piece and future pieces.

Thanks for taking the time to read!

Happy reading

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Prelude

Six years previous…

“Who do you think you are?” a voice thick with rage screamed before a barrage of breaking glass shattered Lacy’s last shred of self control, sending her over the edge and out of the house. She climbed with experienced skill up the large oak that had been her solace since before she could remember. Curling up on the one last branch that could support her four-foot frame, she hunched down, feeling burning tears scald her face.

“Get out! You don’t belong here! I hate you!” the voice continued to yell, cut in by many more sounds of breaking items.

The front door swung open, light flooding onto the patio. A man’s frame cut into the glow, a heavy bag in hand.

“You’re crazy,” the man muttered, loud enough for the other voice, a woman, to hear, sending her into a spitting fury.

“Just get the hell out of here!” An object—a bowl—was aimed at his head, and the man ducked before she could make her mark, smashing into the wall of the garage.

The man just shook his head and still ducking, headed for the safety of a corroded red truck. Lacy huddled down deeper into the foliage of the oak as the headlights flickered on. She wanted to reach out, to stop the man, but she heard the woman let out a painful cry and fall to her knees, mumbling useless apologies as the man sped from the driveway, kicking up loose pebbles and sending them flying. Lacy watched the two specks of light fade and then disappear entirely.

Peeking out carefully, she heard her mother suddenly yell out with renewed fire, “Lacina, you brat, get your ass back in this house before I throttle you!”

Lacy cowered, hoping her bright pink Converse wouldn’t notify the woman where the seven-year-old was hiding.

“Lacina! This is it! If you don’t get in this house right now, that’s it! You can go with your lousy father for all I care!” She called out the little girl’s name one last time before she swore vehemently and slammed the door behind her.

The only sound that could be heard was the soft drone of city life and a hoot of an owl searching for a midnight snack. Lacy felt suddenly weak and she pried her hands from where they had been clutching the trunk of the tree for dear life. Her hands shone raw and red in the moonlight and she let out a soft whimper before she flinched and checked to make sure her mom was no where to be found.

She sat in that tree for hours until the commotion inside the house died down. She could just picture her mom throwing items and breaking everything in her destructive path. Then she slowly slid down the tree, hitting the soft, dew-covered ground with a thud that made her ankles shudder under her slight weight. Checking again to make sure her mom was still in the house, Lacy ran in the direction of the only place she knew that would keep her safe.

It was a good mile and a half to where he lived. Her tiny feet ached in the two-sizes-two-small converse and her pajama bottoms were three inches too short and let the cold air chill her skinny legs. Her seven-year-old mind could only think of one rational thing—get to Ryan’s house.

Dawn dabbled the sky with pink streaks when she finally reached the steps to Ryan’s condo. She fell, her legs shaking too much to keep her standing. Lacy’s breath wheezed and she knew that this was when her mom would normally sit her down and make her take a puff or two from her inhaler. But her mom wasn’t there. Or her dad, who she feared, was gone for good. This brought fresh tears to her eyes and she crawled feebly the rest of the way to the door, ringing the bell with trembling fingers.

Laying her face into the cool concrete, she imagined a time when she was younger and her mom and dad were laughing, clapping there hands at one of her piano recitals. Before the fighting and yelling and breaking.

Before the anger.

Lacy wanted to go back to that time. She couldn’t understand why things had changed. Didn’t her mom and dad love her? Didn’t they want to be with her? Why did her daddy have to go?

“Lacina? Oh Lord, what happened!” The little girl remembered faintly pair of warm, soft hands cover her face, and then touch her inflamed hands. She remembered her chest tightening then as a face swam before her eyes, a face she would never forget.

Her angel—dressed in all black with a pierced nose and black eyeliner.

But she was Lacy’s angel all the same.

“Ryan! Ryan, come quick! Its Lacy!”

Right before Lacy’s chest became too painful to keep awake, she saw Ryan, the one person she loved more than her own life. The boy she cherished and held in the highest of esteem.

“Lacy, what have you done!” was the last she heard before her world went black as she lost all the ability to breathe.