INDIFFERENT AWAKENING
October 24, 2005
For My Instructor,
Mrs. Nancy Thater
(To you, I owe the greatest.)
The young girl arrived home to a half-built house. She shook her head as she shuffled up the walkway to the front door. The cold wind whipped at her hair, she cursed Mother Nature in her mind. The car horn sounded off as her uncle backed out of the driveway. Without sparing a glance towards him, she flipped her hand over her head. She figured that it was best that she be alone for a while. She had a lot of thinking to do. She did not need anything more pressing on her soul, which seemed to be dragging on the ground behind her, tied halfway by her shattered heart. Even then, those were only held by the remaining trace of her sanity.
She opened the door and headed to the right wing of the house. She slid the first door behind her shut to keep the draft of the unfurnished half of the house from rushing in. She set her bags down by the entrance to the basement. She rushed down the stairs, shivering, and turned the furnace on to heat the right side of the house. She quickly checked the gauge and turned the furnace on as high as it could go without worry of blowing. Oh boy, would I love that, she thought to herself and rushed back up the stairs. She trekked up another set of stairs back to her room.
She set her bags down and went to the bathroom that was connected with her room. Whenever her stepfather had first introduced the plans, she was terribly excited by the idea of having her own bathroom. Now, it was indifferent, as so any things now were in her life. She turned on the shower and watched the steam rise. She walked out of the bathroom, swinging the door shut as she went. That should do the trick. She checked her messages. That was another issue between her and her stepfather. The girl needed privacy. That was all she asked. She even paid for the bill. That is right, she was working now. Everyday after school, sometimes until dawn. She managed to keep up her homework, it did not highlight the best of her abilities, but it got done and her grades were reasonable. Above average, that is just what I am.
She took a seat on her bed and listened to the fourteen messages that were left by friends left out in the cold about the entire ordeal. She half-listened. Her attention was now more focused on the vanity mirror that sat across the room from her. She wore her eye makeup thick, trying to hide the fact that she had not slept in days, that she was dying inside. She was trying to shake the world off her trail. Her cheeks were still a bit red from the cold October air. She snapped her head to the side, looked out the window and screamed. She screamed for what it was worth. She did not care who heard her or what message was playing. Those factors were indifferent now. They were bleak static in a dark and dreary world.
The hot tears were streaming down her face, making her face burn, making her scream louder and with more vigor. Her fists were clenched so tight that her nails were digging valleys into her palms. The screams turned to sobs and the sobs to mere whimpers. She watched the first faint traces of blood begin to appear in the small gashes of her flesh and wiped them off on her dress pants. She laid back and closed her eyes, letting everything go. The images ran through her mind like a movie projector. Sounds, smells, tastes forming for a bit, and then leaving before she was even aware they were there. She knew the overall theme. Her father. Lost forever. Never to return. Never to be there again. Her mind flashed red. She was overcome with anger and resentment. She did not understand it. No warning. No explanation left.
Her father had killed himself.
Out of state. Oregon, actually. He had told the girl he was going to open his own law firm and become a leading attorney for the northwest. And, when he had attained enough money, he was going to bring her to him. They could finally be a family. She could finally feel loved. She could relieve herself of the pain in her heart that they dubbed her 'new father.' Not too much longer. She could still remember the day he told her that. She could finally have those true father-daughter moments.
He had had too much to drink. His girlfriend had abandoned him. His firm was failing miserably. He was left alone, cold, confused. He left not a single note.
The girl was sat down by her uncle, a near week after the incident. It was unsure of how to be revealed to his daughter. She did not cry, which is what worried her uncle the worst. After speaking to her for over two hours, he told her the funeral was on a Saturday and that he had plane tickets for the both of them. He had alerted the school, which was very sympathetic and said that whenever she felt like returning would be fine. The girl had stated that it was not necessary. She was extremely formal about the entire thing. With no emotion at tall, she asked and received details about how it had happened.
She was numb.
Her uncle shook his head. A week before, three kids from her school had died in a car accident. Now this. The year before she had to deal with her best friend's father's suicide. He remembered her being sent home from the school for being in such a state of rage about how the school had handled the incident, treating it as a publicity stint. He asked the girl if she was going to tell her friends, and maybe choose one of them to take the trip with her. She shook her head no, and stated that she did not want to put one of them through what she had gone through the previous year.
They had attended the funeral and the girl sat quietly, accepting condolences with an appeasing but fake smile. She remained distant, and went with her cheeks dry the entire weekend. She replied in one word answers, and would not eat. On the flight home, she turned her distant eyes out the window and that is where they had remained.
The girl opened her eyes. She sat up. She looked into the mirror and witnessed the mascara running in streams down her cheeks. Tears of the dead. She picked up the crucifix. You robbed me of him. She threw it. It shattered the mirror. She allowed herself a slim smile and trudged into the bathroom. It was choked with steam. With a distance even away from herself, she seemingly undressed and slipped into the empty tub. She felt the water, and imagined its tranquility washing over her. She was not aware of the movement of her own hands, working diligantly around her. She felt her eyes close and welcomed the gesture and dreamed of the would haves, could haves, and the could bes. She dreamed of her father.
She saw her father building the pens for her horses he had always promised her. She took steps to approach him, for his back was turned, and she felt amazing gusts of wind knocking her off her feet. She fell on her back and looked into the sky, which was black and endless. She looked quickly for her father, and watched silently as his flesh was ripped from his body. She attempted to scream, but that too had been stolen from her. She felt herself falling, and welcomed the feeling. The scene around her turned to ashes.
She fell onto a bed of beautiful roses. White and fragile. Purity. She arose and peered around her. In the distance, there was a magnificent stone building. She felt drawn to it. She slowly began to move towards it, the roses ripping at her flesh. The feeling was true. She welcomed the sense of reality. At last, she felt the stone beneath her feet and was within arm's distance of this monstrosity. This giant. She let her fingers trace the walls as she walked its perimeter. No entrance. The stone was smooth and there was no evidence of age or weathering. Words started to appear beneath her hands.
Her feet could not carry her backwards from this place fast enough. She stumbled over her own feet and found herself sprawling backwards terrified by the events taking place in front of her. And after a brief period of metamorphosis, the wall revealed its underlying secrets. Something that both astonished the girl and appeared not to be a surprise at all.
On the wall, carved deep and bold, was her father's name. Below that, engraved was 'forever to be in the company of...' and there more prominent than ever, was her name. Her breath was nonexistent and her lungs were convulsing upon ashes. The ground opened beneath her. The girl tried to grip the roses to prevent her fall, but it was to no avail. Seemingly, the roses had lost their thorns, and their stems gleamed in the sun overhead, smooth and pure.
Light. White light.
The girl's eyes were open, yet she could not close them against this blinding force. She found that she could not react in any way physically. She was not even aware of her physical self. She felt somewhat.... lighter. Slowly she began to rise, but her body did not follow. It stayed behind, soaking in what she had left of her father, what she had left pumping through her veins.
