A Forgotten Memory
I never know what I've done.
Sometimes it was just because she was angry, or he'd lost a game at the pub.
But it all led to me.
Every night, I'd hear them come in; I'd hide in the corner. They would storm up to my room and grab my arms, shaking me, before they did it.
'Slap!' "You're a useless Bitch!" 'Bang!"
I groaned and rolled over into the pillow, trying to get away from the haunt full truths.
But then he came. On that day, when I was 4 years old.
I sat on the bench, watching the children play football. I wish I was that happy.
"Hey" I jumped and looked over, startled. A boy, that looked about perhaps a year or two older than me was looking at me curiously.
"You okay?" he asked.
I smiled at him and nodded – lying.
"Why aren't you playing with the rest of us?"
I shrugged and smiled again "I didn't feel like it."
"Oh" he said and sighed.
"What's your name?" he asked suddenly.
"It doesn't matter" I said looking away.
"Can I call you 'doe' for short?"
I looked up at him surprised. He grinned at me and I laughed.
He always made me feel better. He would hang around with me, talk laugh with me. He made me feel happier.
Until that night.
We were talking. I leaned out my window as I laughed. He cocked his head at me at an angle, his hands draping over the sill from his window opposite mine.
But then I heard my door open. I spun round as mum appeared in the doorway. She stormed over and grabbed my arms viciously hard. I gasped and whimpered as she screamed at me, shaking me over and over. I looked over at the boy. He was watching with a scared and hurt face. Was he scared for me?
Mum slapped my face to make me look back at her. She kept on screaming and dragged me out the room. Hitting me over and over again.
She grabbed the knife on the table and cut me with it, slashing me before nearly stabbing me with it, I wriggled out the way before she could. We heard sirens and mum stopped.
"You little bitch!" she screamed. "Calling the police on me and your father. Well there's no way that's gonna happen you worthless pile of shit!" she opened the back door and pulled me out into the night. She shoved me in the car and put tape on my mouth. We drove off, and she called dad.
He must have called them.
Anyway, that was the last I ever saw of him.
And that was 11 years ago.
It was on the news the next day. They thought I was dead and had built a grave for me. All they'd found at the house was a bloodied floor, and a ripped cuddly toy.
"Are you happy now Claire? You'll pay for this…"
But we were back now, in Morganville. I looked out of my window, up at the sky.
The door slammed downstairs. Angry yelling, smashing glass.
I closed my eyes.
That was another thing.
It hadn't stopped.
Shanes POV
"Come on Shane!"
I moaned into my pillow.
"You're going to be late!"
"I don't care" I yelled back.
"Correction then. We're gonna be late, since I'm gonna kick your lazy ass!"
"Leave me alone lyss." I sighed, but got up. I went over to my window like every day, and looked at the dark window opposite. Faintly in the morning glow, I could make out a child's picture, paper yellow with age, up on the wall in the room.
It was her room.
I looked away and got dressed. Padding downstairs I met Alyssa's cold glare as I walked into the kitchen.
"The living dead have returned." She muttered and grabbed my school bag. "Come on Shane!"
I sighed again and took the bag from her, fetching my keys; she perked up like a little dog and jumped up and down at the front door. I couldn't help but smile at that.
I closed the door and Alyssa ran head. She loved school.
I walked down the porch and glanced to my left. There stood the old house, paint peeling, grass knee length. I stopped and looked up at the place.
This place, it held so many haunt full memories, memories that people had been so blind to see. Yet it still stood.
Memories of a girl. A beautiful girl.
The girl with a broken smile. That she shared only with me.
"Shane?" I turned around to see Michael and Eve. They saw the house and grimaced. At least someone understood.
"Come on" I said and grinned. "Let's get this day over with."
The day was boring. So many lessons, that no one remembers a thing in them! Why bother?
I thumped my bag next to mikes and slouched down in my seat. Only an hour to go, only one hour…
"Good afternoon class!" Mr. Smythe called.
There was a chorus of mumblings and halfhearted greetings. I stayed silent.
"Now, please get out your books and turn to page 234-"
The door opened. We all looked over to see someone in a hoodie close it behind them. They walked over Mr. Smythe's desk and said something too soft to hear.
"Ah yes!" he said loudly and turned to face the class.
"Today boys and girls, we have a new student. May I introduce Miss Claire Danvers-"
She looked up and stared at me. I stared back, taken aback. Her face was pale and drawn, her cheeks seemed hollow. There was something familiar about her. I looked closer and I saw something blackish on her eye…
Her head snapped down and she hitched her bag up. She crossed the classroom and sat in the back corner. She bowed her head, waiting for the teacher to continue, and to probably stop talking about her.
"anyway class, be sure to make her feel welcome. Now, please turn to page 234-"
I did as told, though not really listening. There was something about her, when I had seen her face. Something, like a fragile angel i needed to protect, from something I had already tried to do so once before.
"My grandpa once said to me, that when you are about to die, your dreams give you wings, and take you to a place where you can be loved. I wish that was now."
I looked at Claire again when I remembered the girl's words. Claire looked like the girl had in school back then, quiet slumped over the desk.
Defeated.
I tried to remember the girl's name, but she'd only said it once to me, and as hard as I tried, I couldn't remember.
Claire's head snapped up again and glanced at me. She stared before she nodded once, before looking back down.
What the hell?
The bell rang.