Beautiful Monsters Novel
Chapter Two
I woke up screaming. Clutching the sides of my mattress, I shot upright, tears streaming down my clammy face. It was like one of those dreams where you fall and wake up just before you hit the ground, but your body still feels like its falling. That's what losing my dad felt like, falling into a hole, where I would never see him again. I had this dream so often lately, almost every night since the accident, but it wasn't really a dream, it was a memory. That was what was hardest about it because for one second when I woke up, I forgot about the accident and the dream was just that, a dream. But then it hit me and tore me limb from limb, that it had happened, that my dad and my best friend were dead, that my life would never be the same again.
The cold breeze from my open window caressed my hot skin and caused the net blinds to billow, moving and swaying with the rhythm of the wind. My head pounded and I couldn't get my breathing to calm down, this is what it was like every night; me fighting with the dream and the need to sleep. I wrapped my arms around my legs and pulled them up to my chest, resting my chin on my knees. It had been nearly three months since the accident and it hadn't gotten any better. I still had moments where I couldn't convince myself that they were gone.
Even at the funerals, I still didn't understand, I had tried my best to save them but it wasn't enough. It didn't help that I was kicked out of Erin's funeral. Her parents blamed me for her death, everyone knew it but we were all shocked when they told me to leave in front of a church full of people. As Maxxie grabbed my arm and led me out, I heard gasps and saw more than one look of pity, but that was it. No one spoke up; no one told them they were out of line. I sobbed outside the church for an hour and watched the procession of people as they milled out of the church and onto the pub which had been booked for after.
Erin's father, Bob, was an alcoholic, a vile man who sometimes hit her mother, Debbie, and her. Debbie used to be a model, before she slept with Bob, who was married at the time, and fell pregnant with Erin. She was the spitting image of Erin, tall, slim, big green eyes and smooth blonde hair. They both hated me and were often rude to me in public. No one really knew why they loathed me so much but me and Erin did. One night, about a year ago, Debbie had gone to blockbusters and me and Erin had stayed in to prepare the snacks. Bob had come in and was blind drunk; he started shouting at Erin for no reason and then shouted at me. He thrust his face close to mine, so close I could almost taste the whiskey on his breath and screamed at me, called me a bitch; he said I'd led his lovely daughter astray. Then he hit me. The punched me at the side of my face, with enough force to throw me to the floor. Then he started laughing, and jabbing my body with his foot as clasped my burning cheek. The red mist descended and before I could stop myself, I kicked out. The kick landed in his groin and he fell to the floor like a sack of potatoes, grabbing his crotch and cursing loudly. That was the last time I was allowed to their house but they couldn't stop Erin coming to mine or she threatened to leave for good and as much as they were shit parents, they loved her.
They came out of the church about an hour later than everyone else, they were probably praying. I got up and walked over to them, Debbie tried to walk away but Bob grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward him, sinking his fat fingers into the soft flesh of her arm.
"What do you want, bitch?" he snarled, his face contorted to make him look like a dog with a mop of short curly black hair.
"I want to know why I wasn't allowed to be there." I jerked my head in the direction of the church.
"Because, you and your little bum boy there" he jerked his head at Maxxie, who was still sat on the bench, looking at his hands in his lap "…corrupted my daughter. We didn't want you anywhere near her when she was alive so we didn't want her anywhere near you now she's dead." I felt tears well up in my eyes but when I spoke my voice was smooth and firm.
"Don't you dare call Maxxie a little bum boy. And don't pretend for one minute that we corrupted Erin, we just helped Erin realise you were a shit parent."
Bob raised his hand as if to smack me, but then he saw the vicar coming out of the church and lowered it slowly.
"It's your fault she's dead!" The words of Debbie's scream pierced me and injured every inch of my soul. I don't know why, I thought it was my fault but maybe the fact that someone else had acknowledged this just made it worse. I felt Maxxie behind me. He knew what a mistake this woman had just made.
"It's your fault she's dead, if you would have gotten help quicker." Debbie was crying, tears streaming down he cheeks, her make-up smudged and her hair falling from her bun. I opened my mouth to speak but Maxxie spoke up first. His voice was strained but soft and soothing.
"Debbie, there is no use blaming Luca. Erin broke her neck during the crash, even if Luca had got help in 30 seconds, your daughter would still be dead."
"Yes but if she had prayed, God would have kept my daughter alive. If she'd have gotten help quicker, she could have saved her…" Bobs gaze burned into me.
"No, do you not listen? Erin was already dead when I woke up. The only person I would have saved by getting help quicker is my father. Do you not think that I hate myself every day for not saving them? That I wish it was me instead of Erin, but I can't turn back time and not even prayer can bring them back." And with that said, I walked away leaving the parents of my best friend behind, who were not the only ones wishing I was the one who had died in the crash.
The slither of light caused by my door opening caused me to snap out of my thoughts. My mum popped her face round the door, her pale blonde hair shimmering in the moonlight.
"Can I come in sweetie?" I nodded and she crept over to the bed and nudged me to tell me to move up. I shuffled toward the wall and she sat on the edge, her arm around me.
"You had the dream again?" her tone was inquisitive and she squeezed my shoulder gently.
"Yeah. I just keep seeing it again and again. The crash, the hospital, I can't bear it." I started to cry and she squeezed me harder, making me feel safe and warm. The hot air in the room was so humid; it felt like there was an actual pressure on me. I had decided what I had to do to make these dreams go away, to make them disappear. I readied myself because I knew about the shit storm that was coming.
"I'm going back to school." My mum let me go and stood up; towering over me as she only could do when I was sat down as I was half a foot taller than her.
"No." Her answer was short and defiant, exactly what I'd expected.
"I don't want to, mum…" she cut me off her voice strained.
"Then why go back? Why put yourself through even more pain." I continued for the moment, ignoring her questions, I needed to say this first.
"I need to go back, mum. I'm going stir crazy here. I miss my friends." This caused her to cough and look at me funny. "I miss Maxxie." I corrected myself. "I am way behind in school; it'll take me months to catch up."
"You'll be fine. You were doing so well in school; you have a bit of leniency."
"No, mum, I don't. Dad wouldn't want this; he wouldn't want me to piss my life away. He wouldn't want me to give up on what I want to be, just because he died. I want to do better than that, I'm going back to school and I'm going to work hard and I'm going to get the grades that I've worked so hard to get. I'm not going to give up; I'm going to do it for Dad. To prove that I can" I sighed with relief. I felt like a weight had been lifted, I had felt like this for ages, I just hadn't had the guts to say anything to her.
"Ok, don't listen to my advice then." She got up and began to walk out, leaving me feeling bad for upsetting her. Then she turned round and scrutinized me, her eyebrows raising,
"But, I'm booking you in at the hairdressers. The haircut you gave yourself looks a right mess." And with that she left, shutting the door behind her and thrusting me into darkness again. My hand went to my hair, which I had cut short with my mum's scissors after Erin's funeral. It was two inches at the back, but I left my fringe a bit longer. I had always wanted to cut my hair short, I just never got the courage to do it. I don't know why I cut it, I think I just wanted everything to be different, or maybe I just wanted it to be how it used to be. Not that it would ever be the same again.