Ch ❶The outside world overwhelmed my ears, my head. Nothing registered as sounds, just as noise, constant noise that never went away. Everything jumbled, mixed, combined. Thousands of unregistered obnoxious noises bounced off the insides of my skull. I ignored it all. I was elsewhere, not there on that bench on the very edge of the neighborhood park. My light olive green mixed eyes stared absolutely emotionless, blank, empty at the road before me; a road that divided nature from city, dividing line between a safe protective haven and vicious, lying world that surrounded this place on all sides.
I didn’t know how long I’d been there, sitting and doing nothing. Had no clue how many people had gone by and stared at me, maybe even thinking I was dead. Was I dead? I might’ve been, for all I knew. So separate from reality, could this be real? Doesn’t seem so…
Walked home. Robotically subconsciously mind moved legs without order from me to get out of there.
Got home. “Home.” What once was such a familiar, safe place was a now just as dangerous as the outside. No protection here, only danger.
“Roslyn…?” called my Dad from across the house. I wrinkled my nose at the harsh smell of cigarette smoke mixing with the scent of beers in the air. My Dad stumbled into the living room wearing that rank perfume.
It was hard to look at him, even through dead, expressionless eyes. The dark brown curls I had inherited form him were greasy and hadn’t been combed in a while, no effort had been put into them to control where they were going. His gray eyes were violently red, bloodshot around the color. They were angry, unforgiving, glaring a hole into my being. What did I do wrong this time?
As if to answer my thought, my dad tried to communicate passed his stalled, slurred tongue. “Yuh’re late.” It came out as one long sound almost unrecognizable I had no explanation for him, and wasn’t about to bother trying to make one up. My eyes just continued to gaze blanked, I wasn’t even seeing anything. I started walking toward my room when suddenly my dad grabbed my arm.
“I’m not done with yuh.” He snarled in a drunken fury. I should’ve screamed for help, knowing what was coming. I should’ve tried to get away, feeling the pain of his large masculine hand wrap tight and squeeze around my bicep. I couldn’t, couldn’t feel anything. Others might see it as something bad. It was my survival mode. His free hand raised above his head. My expressionless eyes followed it’s path, watching as it molded itself into a fist. My eyes closed as it reached its peak, waiting for it to come down.
*****
I didn’t know what time it was when I came back around. Mid-morning maybe. The light was bright enough to pass through my eyelids. Whatever the time, I was probably going to be late for school, worse, the first day of school. School would start today, right? I hope so. But for all I knew it could’ve been Saturday already, knocked out and unconscious on the living room floor for four days.
I forced my heavy eyelids open, denying the desire to stay in the blackness, swimming and drowning in the throbbing sharp pain. I slowly took in the world around me, still on the ground, in the exact spot where I fell after my dad was “done with me”. The arm he grabbed was in my field of view. The dark purple and green blotches pulsed where his cruel fingers grabbed.
I knew that was only a small fraction of the damage, and I knew I had to get up and get cleaned up and ready to go to school. There would be a lot of fixing to do to look normal. But just tensing my muscles to sit up was fiery sparks of pain, enveloping my entire body. But it had to be done. I slowly forced myself up, wincing and grimacing at the pain. I slowly rotated my head around, taking quick notes of the worse spots. The brown glass beer bottle that was shattered where my head had been, little shards of glass were glazed with crimson. My jaw felt tight, probably badly bruised from the initial punch. A lot of other parts hurt too, like I was just one big welt.
Standing was more painful than sitting up tenfold. On wobbly, unsteady legs, I stumbled into my room nearly as badly as my dad stumbles nearly every night now. I understand why he does; he’s in pain. But he’s inflicting pain on me. He’s my dad. Doesn’t he love me anymore?
After what seemed to be forever, I was finally dressed and assessing myself before the mirror. I was right, looking the part of near death, like my body was about to crumble to pieces.
After a thick layer of make-up and turtle-neck and jeans, most of the damage was concealed. Hopefully no one would notice the darker shade under the make-up on my face.
The bus had already gone by, so I’d either have to wake my dad from his hangover to drive me to school or walk to school. Walking was the only sensible option.
It was a long walk there, straining to push weak and abused muscles the distance to school. But somehow, some way, I made it to school on time, but just barely. Good thing, too. Didn’t want the attention of being late to school on my first day, or the attention from my friends. I had lost contact with them over the summer, even with my best friend, Hunter. I wasn’t sure if they were aware as to why, but if they were, I still didn’t want to face them.
School on the first day was a mindless waste of time. Teachers giving out syllabuses with their expectations and rules while non-stop talk about their life story spilled from their mouths. I stayed in the back as often as I could.
Lunch was going to be the hump of all school days, finally going downhill from that period on. I waited patiently through the line to be served, gratefully accepting the plate of pizza and greenbeans. I ate it quickly, filling the empty pit in my abdomen. It was a mixed feeling though; reliefe for the ending hunger growls and disapproval for stuffing myself in such an out of control manner.
While I had managed to get a seat, everyone else was trying to meet up with friends and lay claim to a table. My group was getting the table of their first choice, us being seniors and all that.
I saw them all sit down from across the cafeteria. Strangely, no urge to go be by them arose. Normally I wouldn’t be without my friends. How odd.
“Ros?” I jumped, startled, as someone called my nickname so close to me. I whipped my head to the right, olive eyes glaring, to find Hunter’s warm chocolate brown eyes looking down at me apologetically.
“Sorry, sorry.” He said, hands up towards his head, apologizing for scaring me. I let my coiled muscles relax, now feeling their screaming full forced. I’m not sure how convincing it was, but I smiled at him.
“Hello, Hunter.” I had to clear my throat, it was thick with film from not talking all day. He dramatically pulled a chair out next to me, watching my reactions carefully. I shifted slightly, nervous from his prying eyes. What did he see? What did he know? What was he thinking?
“How was your summer?” He asked, starting out with the easy questions, but his eyes betrayed hesitancy that lead me to believe he had heavier questions in mind. My eyes flashed to the clock and back, hoping he wouldn’t notice. Maybe I could draw this out for lunch to end before these other questions came up.
“Fine.” I told him, saying it a little more slowly than I would if it was any other time. The muscles around his eyes twitched a fraction of an inch. He was registering it all.
“What was that for?” was out of my mouth before I realized what I had said. My thoughts were racing, panicked, too fast for my mind to monitor and control. One element was common between all of them; keep him ignorant.
“What?” he genuinely had no clue what I was talking about, what I was thinking when I saw him twitch. It could’ve been an overreaction, but I had already concluded that he was trying to hide that he knew everything. That was the only logical answer.
“Nevermind” flew out of my mouth just as quickly, trying to repair the damage. The finality in my tone stopped his argument just as it was leaving his mouth. His eyebrows furrowed, expression confused and concerned. He slowly, gently, tenderly reached across the table to place his hand over mine. It was tough, thick like leather, but not rough and calloused and worn like my father’s. It still held its youth even against the constant battering of baseball practice; his favorite sport and possibly his life’s focus. He wanted to be pitcher one day, for what team was still undecided…
“Are you ok?” His voice interrupted my ever flowing, random trains of thoughts. I looked at him from under my dark brown ringlets, hiding my face. His eyes were now burning with inquiry and worry. He wanted to know if I was ok. What to tell him, what to say?
Thankfully the bell rang, giving me the perfect excuse to leave that obvious question unanswered. I stood up to leave, gathering my things.
“Sorry, have to go. Don’t want to be late. We can talk about it later. Or never. Bye.” I said quickly, using just about one breath. I turned to go and hurried away, getting lost in the current of students, swept away by their movements.
The second half of the day goes by in the same manner as the first. I relaxed when the day was over and I escaped outside to the comfortable late-summer, early-autumn air. Not all the busses had arrived yet, and I could sense that Hunter would do all that was in his power to hunt me down and use this time to finish our conversation. I decided to get out of there before that could happen. Walking would be easier this time around anyways. By now I’d stretched and loosened all the soreness by moving throughout school. The only thing that lasted now was the bruises, still very tender to any applied pressure. Those would take some time to heal.
When I got home, I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t control my legs to make me go inside. I wasn’t ready yet, but I wasn’t scared either. I’d accepted that to be the norm. Now I was traveling to the park again. I knew it was tempting a replay of last night, but I would just have to be careful to be home on time
I sat on the same park bench, stared at the same street, felt the same things that I did before. The only difference was I wasn’t drifting into the seemingly dead consciousness. I was aware of everything; could’ve even sworn I felt the presence of someone approaching.
“Hello,” a voice called from behind me. I knew right then it was for me, as there was no one else close enough around. The voice, feminine, didn’t shock me as Hunter’s did. My best friend’s voice startled me when, right now, a complete stranger just approached me from out of the blue. But the voice was oddly comforting, like somehow familiar but I couldn’t remember where it was from. And musical; her voice was nothing short of an angel’s sweet nothings.
I turned to see her face, and my heart nearly stopped as I did. The girl wasmy age, and the mid-afternoon sun glistened in her the-lightest-of-blonde hair like the smallest of diamonds had been nestled within the smoothly straight strands that were just and inch or so off her gently curving shoulders – perfectly proportioned. The rest of her body was just as perfect, from the length of her thin but sculpted arms to her chest – not too large nor too small – and her back was a gentle curve, her small waist and flat stomach, supported by her ballerina legs, all enwrapped by her flawless pale – but not transparent – skin. She was a lot to take in.
“Hello.” My voice unsure, and even though complimented on for sounding so nice, mine was nothing next to hers. She was better me in every way, why would such a beauty come up to me?
She gave a radiant smile, flashing her pearly white teeth, the sun illuminating the form of her smiling face. I couldn’t help but stare at her beauty, feeling my own mouth pull up into a reflecting smile. I liked her already, couldn’t help but like her. Some passersby gave me strange stares, but I ignored them. Homophobes. Not that I was interested in her like that or anything.
I scooted to one side of the bench, giving her room to sit down next to me. She came around the bench and sat. There was a moment of awkward silence, wondering what she came for.
She parted her soft lips, bringing her harmonious tone back in to the world. “What were you looking at?” she asked, looking in the general direction I was previously, her eyes searching for the answer that captured my attention, but it wasn’t there anymore. It hadn’t been there for some time now, but I could still see it if I tried.
I debated what I would tell this stranger girl. “Nothing, I was just daydreaming.” I told her calmly, hoping she would buy it. I didn’t want to be bothered on the subject.
Her perfect mouth slanted, unsure of my answer I gave, but she didn’t fight me on it. For some reason, we continued to talk more and more, but just about simple things; weather, school, neighborhoods. It was very calming, comforting even. I felt drawn to her, the warmth of her body. However the continuous stares and whispers from those around us were ruining the moment. I wanted to go somewhere else with her… s**t! I haven’t even gotten her name yet. Wake the ******** up Roslyn!
“Hey…” I said, very awkwardly, “Can I get your name?” I asked, lips molding into an embarrassed, shy smile.
She laughed, the sound as magical as little bells a flurry in a breeze. She smiled warmly. “I’m sorry. My name’s Hellen. Yours?”
“Roslyn, or just Ros.”
“Roslyn,” she said to herself quietly, emphasizing the sounds, tasting them in her mouth. Someone walked by, giving us one of those stares. I had had enough.
“Can we go somewhere? Say, your place?” I liked that idea. I wanted to know where this angel-like girl came from, but she hesitated in her answer and frowned, one-half of her mouth in slight detest.
“I’d rather not.” She murmured softly.
“I understand,” and I really did. I knew what it was like to not want to go home. It wouldn’t be my first choice to go there right now, but I couldn’t stand the looks anymore, and Dad wouldn’t be home for a while, so it was safe in that aspect. “Wanna go to my place?”
Her eyes perked up, the light returning to them, no longer sad. Her smile was back, too. “I’d love that.” She said, and we were off.
The park is relatively close to my house, so it was only a short walk. We continued to chat until we got there, and I suddenly wished I hadn’t offered. It was a pretty damn small house; what if she was used to higher standards of living, this angel-girl named Hellen? And worse, my house was as messy and messed up as my dad. There was crap everywhere, not to mention the bloody broken bottle in the middle of the living room floor. Crap. Too late to turn around now. Crap crap crap.
I hesitantly pushed open the door, holding it for her as she went inside. I braced myself for her reaction; the disgust, sheer horror of my living conditions. I just hoped she would stay my friend, if she considered herself that.
What she didn’t do was more shocking than what I had expected her to do. She did nothing, didn’t even flinch or wince. Simply took a look all around, three hundred and sixty degrees, then looked at me; wanting guidance from her good hostess. I waved my arm out, giving her free acess to everywhere she could stand to be in. I took her bookbag and placed it on the living room table, where one of the few cleaner surfaces existed in the whole house.
We sat down on the couch, and I turned on our worthless last-century T.V., going through our random limited channels. I had no idea what she liked, but when I looked at her for her decision, she merely shrugged. I stopped on some hospital soap opera or something, I was clueless as to what it was about. Nevertheless, we both still got into it’s cheesy drama. We laughed even when the characters were crying. So fake, so fake.
When the show was over, we made our way to the barren kitchen for snacks. There wasn’t much, but we made do with some crackers and American cheese singles. I got out a plate and put out enough for the both of us, and we ate, enjoying each other’s company rather than the food. We both shared our stories, passing over the more important details. Hellen said her dad was crazy, and his behavior drover her mom away. I emphasized with her. My own mother was gone, and I told her that.
I froze, color draining from my face as I heard the sound of an old, decrepit car pull into the driveway, the car door open and close, and my dad mumble to himself as he came through the front door. s**t. Dad didn’t allow people over (for good reason. Just look at the state of the place), and especially not when he wasn’t informed about it well ahead of time. That way he could make me straighten out the house some. I looked over at Hellen, obvious fear in my olive eyes, but she wasn’t looking at me. Rather she was watching my father.
He walked by me to the fridge, passing Hellen as he did, grunted something meant to be a greeting, pulled out a beer, and went to his room. He didn’t look at, talk to, or say anything about Hellen’s presence. It was like she was invisible. My head swiveled back and forth between him and her. Was that seriously my dad? If it was, what was wrong with him? I mean, I was glad he didn’t harass Hellen away. I most certainly was not about to complain about that. But it wasn’t like him to act that way, especially if I broke such a serious rule as that. Hellen raised an eyebrow at my fear-confusion-relief-all-in-one expression.
For the evening we mostly stayed out of Dad’s way, not wanting to test his limits. But when the late hours rolled around, and Hellen was still with me, I had to either build up the courage to ask for Dad to take her home or ask if she could spend the night. Both involved someone he somehow didn’t know was here. Both were equally dangerous.
I took Hellen by the hand, leading her out of my room to the living room where Dad was watching his shows. I cleared my throat to get his attention, and he stared only at me with his drunken bloodshot eyes.
“Could… I possibly…”
“Spit it out already.” He demanded.
“Could I possibly have a friend over for the night?” I asked hesitantly, my voice weak. I looked over at Hellen’s bright blue eyes which were looking at me. I drew strength from her.
“Who?” He asked just before the bottle he was bringing up to his mouth touched his lips. My eyes gestured to Hellen so he would get the picture. He gave me one of those looks the people in the park did.
“My friend… Hellen.” He still wasn’t getting it. ‘What the ******** is you’re problem?! She’s standing right here!’ I wanted to scream, wanted to slap him even, to get his drunken a** to compute this simple statement. But I obviously couldn’t scream, especially not slap him. That would mean certain death.
“I have no idea who you’re talking about,” he said, words starting to blend and jumble, making no effort to speak clearly. “Besides, its too late to invite anyone over. And the house is a mess. You know the rules.” He now turned his full attention to the T.V., frustrated that I had made him miss part of his show.
I drug Hellen in front of him, blocking his view of the T.V. He didn’t even flinch, just continued to stare through her legs at the screen. Now I reached out and moved her aside, Dad watched my hands with eyebrows raised. Hellen was a little scared and confused, not understanding what was going on. But she didn’t resist, and for that I was grateful. I took her place in front of the T.V., and he looked me straight in the eye.
“What?” he growled. I knew I had to figure this out quickly, his monster was awakening for the night. I could see the merciless anger star to seep into his eyes and warp his vision.
“How many people are in this house?” I asked desperately, trying to control my voice but the hint of panic still surpassed my willpower to hide it.
He looked around sarcastically, then back to me, his expression completely different. “What the hell you shmo-smokin’? I want sh-some.” He laughed, the sound was disgusting and cruel. I fled the room, disappearing and hiding inside my own. I leapt onto my bed, tears of uncomprehending confusion stung my eyes, leaking out when I tried to blink them away.
“Roslyn?...” Hellen’s gentle voice was suddenly next to me, drifting from a few inches away into my ear. I freaked out, jumping up and pushing my back against the wall. My heart was pounding. How’d she get in here? How did I not hear her? Her unnaturally blue eyes were pitying, sympathetic as she reached out a hand to touch me. Her hand brushed my face, wiping away my tears. I felt her hand; the pressure against my cheek, the warmth of her fingers, the baby smooth softness of her skin. I
felt it all but…
Dad had not seen her.
And all those people in the park. They were giving us weird looks. Or… giving me weird looks? Maybe instead of thinking we were gay, they thought I was crazy. Dad had not seen her, what if the others had not either?
My color drained and I felt queasy as I stared at Hellen, her trying to comfort my panic. No no no. This can’t be happening. She’s not real. But I can see her.
I must be crazy.
