Warnings for mental health issues and child abuse. Seriously.
Chapter One: Gunpowder Memories
She's been like this for years
Dear, calling names, crushing herbs.
Gambling with the lovers and giving in to the dark.
"God dammit, Amelia!" Another glass went flying, crashing against the wall just next to her head and shattering. A single shard of glass flew into her hair, still wet from the rain, unkempt and frizzy.
"You dumb shit!" Her father said, face red. His hand reached out, a claw, and gripped her chin like she was a bad dog. His calloused, cold fingers dug into her jaw, drawing dull, tired tears to her eyes.
"I-I'm sorry Papa, I swear it won't happen again. Really, I just needed help some help with math, that's all-" She tried to explain to her father. Seriously, she hadn't been hanging out with anyone or something, she'd just wanted to talk to her teacher after class. But when she'd finally made it outside, her bus had already left, and it was raining. Which left her to finally get home, dripping wet and shielding her textbooks, and walk straight into her father.
"Do you know how disappointed your mother would be? Coming home late, from god knows where, looking like a mess- is this what I pay for you to go to school for? For you to fucking abandon me?" Her grip tightened around her physics textbook at the mention of her mother; that was low. Disgusted, he let go of her face.
"I'll try better next time, I swear. I won't be late again." She managed, voice thick.
"You'd better, damnit. I haven't got time for this." He said, shaking a finger at her and turning around to grab a beer off of the counter. Nodding her head, desperately trying to agree, Amelia held back a whimper.
Please don't get drunk again, she thought half-heartedly, knowing the thought was useless. It would happen anyway.
"And these kind of things happened… how often, would you say?"
Amelia looked off into the distance, quietly thinking. Her fingers twitched slightly where they rested on her knees. Doctor Kirkland waited patiently, barely making a sound. After a minute or so, Amelia answered.
"Probably once a day during the week… maybe a little less. During the weekend, if he got drinking, it'd be mostly okay. Until, uh, Sunday night. It would all kind of…" she trailed off, uncertain.
Doctor Kirkland tilted her head, a few wisps of loose blond hair shifting, free from her bun. "Yes?" She prompted gently, eyes soft.
"Build up. And explode." Amelia finished softly, her expression distant, like she was somewhere else.
Doctor Kirkland nodded, discreetly making a few notes on her on her sheet. It wouldn't have mattered how discreet or obvious she was, though, because Amelia was far away, mentally. The therapist looked up from her paper to find her patient shaking in her set, fists clenched tight and eyes glazed.
"Amelia. Oi, Amelia." The doctor's voice spoke sharply, trying to cut through her distress. But Amelia took no notice of the voice, either couldn't or wouldn't hear it. Her lips parted slightly, a squeak of a whimper escaping. Doctor Kirkland knew she was reliving something horrible inside her head.
"Amelia, I don't know if you can truly hear me right now, but I'm going to ask you some questions. Alright?"
There was no response, but she wasn't too surprised.
"What is two plus two?" A short pause, and then she continued.
"What is today's date?" This question, it seemed, Amelia actually made an attempt to answer. Her eyes cleared a bit, darting upwards to meet Doctor Kirkland's. Her mouth opened and closed, not actually speaking but trying to. Doctor Kirkland knew she was coming out of the flashback.
"How many books are on my table?" She asked finally, meeting the blonde's uncertain gaze with steady determination. Amelia swallowed, and responded without really thinking.
"Six."
Pleased, Doctor Kirkland nodded. "Great job, Amelia. Were you remembering something... He did?"
Hesitantly, Amelia nodded. Still, she didn't say anything.
"Okay. Would you rather not talk about it today? We can cover it next week, if you'd like." Doctor Kirkland assured her, trying to assuage any fears she could. Amelia seemed to agree.
"Alright, that's fine. You know, actually, I wanted to lend you this book. After our talk last time, I thought you might really like it. Nearly every space enthusiast does." The therapist picked up a single book off the table, it's cover decorated with spacey red and black hues. Amelia took it into her gently trembling hands, turning it over curiously. Doctor Kirkland smiled, happy to distract the young woman from her memory.
"Cosmos- oh! I think I've heard of this one. Th-thank you, Doctor Kirkland. Wow." She said gratefully, running her fingers over the spine of the book. Doctor Kirkland smiled gently in response.
"Not at all, Amelia. You'll have to tell me what you think about it!"
"Definitely."
The therapist made a note on her sheet to ask Amelia about flashbacks next time.
Walking home was nearly always an exercise in self control. A passing stranger coughed too violently, and she'd find herself flinching just as hard. A man selling oranges at the corner, waving one in her face, and she'd be caught between punching him and curling into a ball.
On this particular day, a woman behind her nearly tripped, catching herself before falling, and clipping Amelia's calf in the process. Not noticing, the woman walked on, but Amelia completely froze up. Jarring memories came back, she tried not to pay attention, she really did. But-his hands were always so rough and harsh against her body-he was never careful with her-her breathing became ragged. Coughing and attempting to discreetly wipe her eyes, Amelia slowly began walking again. Luckily, she'd already gotten close to her apartment by now, so the rest of the walk wasn't long.
At long last, she made it through her door and shut it behind her, relieved. All the lights were off, but she didn't bother turning any on. Tiredly, she slid off her shoes and clicked the flashing button on her answering machine, turning the volume up so she could hear it while she changed. Heading into her bedroom, the recordings began playing. An automated voice started.
"You have 3 new messages. Message one, begin:".There was another click, and a man with a commercialized voice started talking. "If you've got insurance debts up to your ears, then do I have a deal for…" Amelia droned the rest of this out- she had no use for telemarketers. Then another click sounded, and the automated voice announced a second message. This time, it was from her brother, Matthew.
"Hey 'Mia! Matt here. I just wanted to check up on you, and tell you… well, I'm really proud that you started seeing a therapist-professionally. I think it's really gonna help you."
Amelia paused in the middle of pulling on a t-shirt. That's right, she'd forgotten that she'd told Matt about therapy. He was always so worried, concerned that something was seriously wrong, after… well. Finally, he'd convinced her to see someone about it. But there wasn't anything wrong with her, really. Matt was just overreacting, as usual.
At least, that's what she kept telling herself.
"Call me back when you can. Love you!"
Matt's message made her smile, forever grateful for the goofy blond who always managed to understand her. At least someone would always care about her. Pulling up the waistband on her sweatpants, Amelia walked back into the main area. The final message started playing, some advertisement again. She hit the delete button, and the automated voice spoke.
"No new messages."
Sighing heavily, Amelia sank down into a chair, pressing her head against its back. A chill ran down her spine, but she ignored the draft in her apartment, happy to be alone. At last, blessed solitude and silence. She wasn't working tonight, so she was free to relax. Looking briefly at the clock, she planned out an imaginary day. It was 4:30-ish, so that left time to go out and eat at the new diner down the block. Supposedly they had great burgers. Then she could walk through the park, feed some ducks, maybe go for a run!
Of course, she wouldn't actually do any of that. More likely, she would stay home, order some shitty food, and pick at it a little bit.
Maybe the Twilight Zone was on-that was usually pretty good. Spooky, though.
Hello everybody! I'm very excited to be starting my second story, and yes, it is in the same universe as "If all of my answers...". If you haven't read that yet, there's no obligation, but I think it might add some cool factor or depth to reading this.
The quote from the beginning of the chapter is from Emperor, a song by Wilsen.
I'm really excited to continue writing this, but PLEASE. If you have any serious issues with child abuse and think this story might not be for you, then make the choice that will be best for you. The story will continue to have these themes.
Anyway, I really hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please review, favorite, follow, or whatever you'd like! I love you guys,
~Skeleton
