Chapter One
Wishing to be Fantasy
It was raining, once again. For days the weather had continued to be this same, dreary, horror book beginning. School was closed, but no one was outside enjoying the small taste of freedom that came from the cancellation. All Amy knew was that the test that she was supposed to take yesterday in Physics was going to be even harder. This unbelievable storm was just delaying the inevitable. It was just better to get it over and done with then to wait it out. The same philosophy applied to jumping into a freezing lake. Why go in inch by inch when risking a heart-attack by cannoballing in was a lot more fun?
A chuckle reverberated from her throat as she kept staring at the raindrops that pounded with such force onto her window of her room. Books of numerous titles and colors were spread out all over her bed with the pages bent and spines crinkled with use. She couldn't tell how many times she had read the same adventures over and over. But she couldn't stop herself from delicately picking up the story of someone else's life filled with toil and hardship but always came out on top. Because they were the hero. Everything went right when they were involved because that was how they were written to be. They were fantasy, fiction, unrealistic. Yet, even though their lives could never be real, it was what Amy had dreamt about having. It was what she wanted more than anything else in the world, so on her every birthday when her grandparents sent her money in cheesy cards that were covered in glitter and pink that she detested so much, the girl headed to the nearest bookstore and purchased at least a week's worth of fighting dragons, knights, and always a little bit of romance to wrap in up in a happy ending. Amy had it nothing like that.
The characters in her books were entirely different people and she knew that she couldn't be like them. Maybe she wasn't as enchanting as a fairytale princess who not only had the beauty of face but the grace of an angel, or as strong as an Amazon warrior who not only had the strength to crush enemies with their bare hands but had the undying love of the perfect man, or even as cunning as a thief with a mastery of the blade to be feared by all. She was who she was…normal. When she opened the imaginations of an author, however, she could be anyone that she dreamed to be, if only for a few hours. It wasn't enough, though.
Soon, Amy began to pick up her new career that she knew that she couldn't pursue because of the unsteady pay, writing. It became her favorite hobby that even topped annoying her little brother. Whatever she wanted, she could make it happen in her stories that increased daily. Some could be novels that had taken years of patience and sore wrists, or small, funny excerpts that improved her mood every time she looked at them. Computer files were all loaded with her little ramblings and a dresser drawer had been filled to the brim with ratty notebooks that contained more writings and numerous doodles that littered the pages. In her lap, at the moment, she held a pencil that had stilled its crazed movements a short, few minutes ago when the silent teenager had stopped its path on the lined paper.
She was wondering within her mind, searching for a conclusion to wrap up her newest chapter to her book. Amy was sitting on her windowsill that had been covered with her comforter from her bed and a few pillows to make her the most comfortable. This was her thinking spot where she could just stare outside, but at the same time, not see anything, and she loved it. Her teachers didn't appreciate the random moments of inspiration that came to her in the middle of lectures that held no interest in them, and one of her notebooks would encompass her thoughts and her attention. Her actions had consequences, but Amy had no choice but to write at any time that her mind commanded it. To be within the pages of hardships with mystical creatures was too much to resist and she succumbed to its splendor.
At this moment, something was wrong. She could not concentrate. Something was going to happen.
A chill swept through her body making her hair raise and bumps to form on her skin against her will. Her dark eyes that resembled an ocean storm, swept across the room accessing every detail. Bed unmade, door shut, lamp on, window closed, pictures still pasted on a dark blue wall…nothing was misplaced. It appeared to all be the same. Amy hated to feel scared; it made her actions irrational and lost sleep over shadows that seemed to come alive when her eyes were hidden behind her lids. Though when the sun shined through her gauzy curtains, they vanished and became nothing more than a bad dream. Her brother was supposed to be scared of the dark, not her. She was the older sibling and protected the smaller one from the imaginations of their mind. The mind…it was a monstrous place. The slightest pigment of doubt could plant seeds of insecurity within. Fear took root and grew into a mindless panic that even the bravest of men could succumb to.
Thunder boomed with a mighty force that seemed to shake the whole foundation of the house. The lighting flickered and Amy could faintly hear a moan of protest coming from the room next to her. Her brother practically lived in his room, the same as her. His life relied solely on his technology which included the almighty gaming stations and he practically worshipped the gaming controller that controlled his life say in and day out. Amy could almost understand his reverence toward his video games, almost. It was fun to play a character in a fantasy world, but it ended too soon and included more fighting and effort than an actual story line. She would take a book over it any day because each time the cover was opened and pages read, she could change the scenery to whatever she wished and see the characters travel through her ideas. It was forever changing and it made her excited to learn new things. Each time her blue eyes scanned the small print, she caught things that might have been missed before due to trying to read in school with one eye on the professor and half-listening to the lesson so that if she was caught, again, she could at least provide the excuse that she could multitask. It never worked.
Another clash of thunder made her jump in her place and cause her legs to slip from the wall which was the only thing keeping her balanced on the window ledge. On instinct, her arms flew out to try and keep her on her claimed spot, but gravity had its way with her. A jarring pain in her ass made her yelp a curse and to release her hold on the notebook and pencil. The lights flickered once more and Amy knew that the power wouldn't last much longer. To put it bluntly, their electric company sucked, and even the lightest thunderstorm caused something to go out much to her brother's chagrin. Their father had tried to do something about it before, but it was always Amy that had to go down to the basement with a flimsy flashlight to flip the breaker switch so that nothing overloaded. It was always her anyhow that fixed anything that fell apart and the things that she couldn't fix were the things that the professionals took care of. Jake, her pipsqueak, had no depth perception what so ever and his method of putting things pack together usually involved glue or duct tape. At times, though, it seemed quite efficient. Their father didn't even try and only offered criticism instead of getting off his lazy ass and actually doing something about the blasted things.
Groaning, but nonetheless pushing herself up onto her feet, and stretched limbs that had stayed stationary for hours on end. She cracked her neck along with her knuckles that had often caused disgusted looks among the student population. Lovingly, she bent down and gently closed her spiral covering the words that would have to be finished later. Amy picked it up along with other things that littered her floor and carelessly threw them on the mattress without a second thought. She'd find it later and until the time for bed arrived, she wouldn't even bother looking for it. Her hands smoothed out any wrinkles that might have formed permanently on her sweatshirt and absently ran them through her midnight black hair before deeming herself appropriate.
Her stomach growling and thoughts of warm soup floundered through her head, the teenager decided to head downstairs into dangerous waters. It was well worth the risk, she thought because her hunger wouldn't be sated for long. A smile lit up her face as she thought that a nice bowl of ice-cream afterwards would make this day seem brighter than it appeared to be. Carefully turning the doorknob and opening the door, Amy made sure that the hallway was clear before heading down it to get to the stairs. She passed a sign covered door that was practically pasted with "Do Not Cross" crime scene tape. Apparently, as every second grader believed, girls were covered in cooties and they contaminated everything that was touched by their infested hands. The door was slightly open and Amy made sure that Jake was alright. His eyes were glued to his television screen with his hands rapidly moving on the controller that he held on his hands. Hair that matched her own dark locks was plastered over his face with sweat. It amazed her that the boy was as skinny as a stick and yet anything that was coated in sugar was promptly consumed and the only exercise that he got was the jumping up and down at a completed level.
Relatives that had come over to visit always said that their favorite nephew or grandson greatly resembled his mother and just plain adorable. She knew the truth, however. Underneath that "cute" exterior lied a monster that only came out when Jake decided that Amy had become a character in one of his games and tried numerous things to bring his real sister back. One time he had even tried to exorcise a demon that had apparently taken over her body while she had been asleep. He then proceeded to knock her upside the head with two wooden sticks that had been taped together to form a cross. After that incident, the neighbor had a hard time explaining to her father to keep his kids out of his gutter.
"Take that you evil, monster thing that keeps kicking my ass!"
The sudden outburst made her crack up which startled her brother into dropping the controller. Blood red words dripped down the screen reading game over and caused the pipsqueak to violently protest and accuse the game of cheating. Amy's laughter died down as she remembered a certain word in that sentence.
"You know that if father hears what you just said, you're going to be in trouble," she reprimanded.
"I don't care," he mumbled under his breath, but Amy heard it anyways and shook her head at his stubbornness. He reminded her how much he took after her when she was little. Nothing could keep her down, not even punishments. The only thing that was learned from them was that stealth skills were needed to be improved on and not to get caught doing the same thing twice. Her stomach growled and reminded her that there was a package of soup with her name on it.
"Hey, squirt, I'm gettin' something to eat. Want anything?" Amy asked while leaning on the doorframe, watching Jake pick up his controller and began punching the buttons on them once more. He uttered a sound which Amy took as a negative. "Suit yourself. That was your only offer for a free meal." He grumbled again and paid no mind to his older sister. She shrugged and shut the door, leaving the seven year old in peace.
Her bare feet made no noise against the soft carpet as she traveled down the stairs, hopping them two at a time to get down to the kitchen faster. The house they lived in was mediocre at best and the only thing that the teenager loved about it was that the walls were soundproof. Their father was not a silent sleeper nor was the ladies that he brought home at ungodly hours in the morning. Amy made sure that her brother was fast asleep always before ten o'clock and locked his door for him before doing the same for the connecting bathroom as well as hers. She, however, left her bathroom door open so that when Jake had a nightmare, he could always come and see her. He hated to admit it, but the girl knew that he felt safe in her arms. It reminded him of their mother.
Their mother…she was a taboo subject to discuss. Jake had been the cause of Melinda's death. She had been weak even before the pregnancy and had become frail and sick over those nine months and when the time came…all she had the strength to do was smile at her newborn baby boy and whisper the name that she wished him to be called. She had been nine at the time and was not considered old enough to step past the boundaries of the waiting room. So she had to wait. Amy hated waiting. Soon a rubber band had been found on the floor and had caused her an hour's worth of entertainment of how far she could shoot the darned thing and how many times she could snap herself on the leg without crying out.
Her game, though, had to end when the thing couldn't take anymore of the strain. Besides, her father had come out. He had been a different man back then. Loving caring, everything a father should be towards their child. It changed. It all changed. He shunned Jake and treated the poor child as if he was a contagious disease that would cause a lightning bolt to strike him down if he as much as touched Jake's skin. Amy wished that one would come down anyhow. He was just a kid! He didn't understand what had happened to cause his only parent to treat him with such animosity. She took care of him because who else would? Her little brother pretended that it didn't bother him, but not even did he allow his friends from his school to come with a five mile radius of his house. Okay, maybe that was a little bit of an exaggeration as the bus had to come by their house everyday, but the only time she got to see them was when they stuck their heads out the windows to say goodbye.
Amy reached the bottom of the stairs with a small bounce and cautiously checked around the corner to check if her father was asleep. The clock in the living room chimed six times, and not even did it bother the drunken man passed out on the baby blue couch. Empty beer bottles littered the floor like her books were on her bed. Internally sighing as to not wake him up, the teenager knew that she would have to clean that mess up before she went to sleep. Continuing on into the kitchen, Amy walked up to one of the numerous cabinets and fished around for the can of soup for her and her brother. She knew that he would be insatiably hungry just as soon as she finished her meal and then she would have to get everything out once again and feed his rumbling belly. Which hers was doing right now.
"Alright, alright. I'll feed you, give me a freaking minute," she growled downwards. The noise seemed to stop and Amy was satisfied. She gave a small cry of triumph as her finger brushed against the laminated label of what she hoped was what she was looking for. She jumped a bit to give her that extra foot of height for her hand to clasp around the cylindrical object. "Family Sized Chicken Noodle Soup," the can read. Just what she was looking for.
Setting it on the old, deteriorating countertop, the girl opened the wooden drawer located just below her supper and shuffled around the many kitchen tools before she found the handheld can opener. She laid it next to the can and pulled out a cooking pot underneath the stove and placing it on top of the burner. Carefully extracting the metal top of the soup and throwing it in the trashcan with good aim might she add, she poured in the noodles along with a cup full of water and turned on the gas. The mismatched lid was placed on top of the pot and Amy left it alone for it to boil. Her eyes peered into the fridge when she opened it up, looking for something that would go with dinner. Shrugging, she just pulled out two bottles of water. Out of another cabinet she took out two bowls and laid them on the table along with the water as well as silverware. Ta-Da! Dinner is served! Now to call down the munchkin. Father Drunk was fast asleep and she knew that if a band of flying monkeys eating light bulbs came through the living room, he wouldn't awaken. The man was unconscious. But she didn't want to risk the beating that he would give her if he wasn't that far deep in a beer-induced sleep.
Blowing a strand of her onyx hair away from her stormy-blue eyes, she grudgingly began to head back up the sixteen stairs only to fall back down when a lightning bolt must have struck the power lines. Again her ass met the floor and another curse was uttered from her mouth at her misfortune. It was pitch black and not even could Amy see her hand that was waving around frantically in front of her face. Great, she had to make another trip down to the basement which had to have been the third time in two days. Grumbling back into the kitchen, Amy flipped off the gas and rummaged in one of the other drawers for the emergency flashlight. As she drew it out, a loud snore from her father startled her into dropping it and making it roll underneath the table. Since it was incredibly dark, the teenager had to get down on her hands and knees searching for her only light source with probing fingers.
"Where are you, you piece of cra-ah ha! Here you are," she whispered in triumph in the dark. Quickly switching it on and scooting out from underneath the kitchen table, hitting her head in the process; Amy made the journey down into the dank basement.
It wasn't as if she hated to do all the work around the house. Sure it got annoying as it was done everyday, but it gave her a sense of responsibility and maturity that greatly surpassed the students at her school. College was approaching fast, but Amy wasn't sure that if she could go and achieve her dream job. What would happen to her squirt? Who would take care of him? Certainly their father wouldn't and would hand off the brat to his sister-in-law in a heartbeat who scared the freaking crap out of her to say it honestly. Even then he would be treated differently. Aunt Carrie had not really been close to her sister, but just one look at his dark hair and baby blue eyes, she would remember. Maybe she could get a job this summer to save up money for a cheap apartment they could live in and take college courses at night. It was a full time commitment, but she was ready to make one if only to take care of Jake. Only two years, she told herself, and then they would both be out of this dump and onto bigger and better things.
She sighed in the darkness. Two years was two too many. Reaching the breaker box, Amy pounded her fist against the lock and it popped open in an instant. Holding the flashlight in her left hand, her dominant hand, she began scrolling her right index finger down the small red switches. One, however, had decided to be increasingly stubborn and refused to be flicked off. Mumbled curses were heard underneath her breath as she popped the flashlight in her mouth to keep the beam of light fixed on her work and tried with both hands to make the switch un-stubborn.
Suddenly, another flash of lightning came down obeying the rules of not striking in the same place twice, and struck the breaker box where her finger were currently fiddling with. A great shock passed through her making her nerve cells send massive messages to her brain saying that this hurt like hell! A scream of her own tore itself from her throat as the burning intensity ripped through her body. She was going to die! She was going to freaking die, but she couldn't! Her boy needed her! She had to help him! With her last thoughts, the pain stopped as she sank into a black abyss.