My eyes feel crusted over with tears, I must have cried. It is still early, you may say that it is too early but I cannot sleep anymore. The flowing sounds are back, I suspect it might have been something that my mom used to hum or listen too. Take your pick, it doesn't really matter anymore. The small window of Jacobs's guest room illuminates the bed with sliver lighting and I stare at it, thinking back to my semi normal life. At least what was normal to me.
When I recall such things, I like to think of my self as a third party, a watcher of sorts, if you will.
There is a girl coming into a relatively nice house, her hair is down and she is wearing a pair of worn jeans with a slightly outdated shirt. She is all smiles. She calls out to her mother. Reene is her name. Her whole stance is relaxed, her mother has promised to stop and she is certain that she will. There seems to be a slow grunting sound coming from the bathroom and the girl is rapidly panicked. What if some intruders came in and harmed her mother? She is ready to fend of any attackers, her anger not making her see that any attempt at such an atrocity would surely just complicate things.
Her steps are quick but a bit scattered and she has to find support many times in order not to fall. With a strong shove, she pushes off the white wood door and the air is knocked out of her. Her mother is lying in a pool of blood and there is shattered glass thrown across the white tiled floor. There is a needle close to her hand and her look is that of pure bliss. Hot, traitor tears prick the girl's eyes. Her mother promised. Promised Dam it!
Shoving aside the anger she feels, she runs out and almost falls down the stairs in her hurry. Snatching the phone off its hook, she fumbles over the numbers 9-1-1. She's been successful is taking care of her mom before but this is too much, her mom is loosing too much blood. Her mom is dying. The voice on the other end asks for her 'emergency' and the girl is able to stutter out what has happened. The female voice keeps her on the line until the ambulance arrives. There will be social workers trying to pry and "fix" this issue, they will separate them and she will go into foster care. The girl doesn't want that, she wants to stay with her mother. She is also realistic and sees that this life is not healthy for her, that all they have in mind is her best interest. The girl quietly cries as her mother is taken away in a gurney.
I stop there; I've had enough reminiscence for one day. The light has now turned a cool yellow and I feel my stomach grumbling. That memory suddenly makes everything feel claustrophobic and I am gasping for air. My hands instinctively scratch at my throat; they (my hands) seem to think they can rip open my esophagus and force oxygen into my lungs. I run out of the room, the spacious living room helps a little but I am still disoriented, I am not strong enough to be running around like that and the room seems to spin.
I need to get out.
I grab the note pad from Jacob's kitchen and in my almost illegible writing, I scribble down my infinite apologies. I truly am sorry. I also write down the massive thank you's. I explain my self and tell him I have enjoyed his company, I tell him I will forever be indebted to him. Witch is true. Then I run out to the back yard and snatch my customary dark clothing from the hangers. Black pants, black sweater, black everything. Running back inside I rip off the over sized shirt and place my pants and sweater on, they are still a little damp but this isn't something I am not used to.
I need to escape, the need is overpowering.
I place the note where I am sure he will spot it and then I am out the door.
I run, there are no dark alleys here and I feel extremely exposed. The sun is shining down but at least I look remotely presentable. My speed causes my lungs to ache and burn and I have to stop to catch some air. I need water but have no money to buy some. Walking seems safer and I opt for that path. By nightfall I am back into the grimy dumps of crappy Phoenix, were I belong. My eyes feel tired and I decide that for just tonight, I will sleep here. Tomorrow I have to leave. No, escape, that's more fitting.
I wake up in the same decayed building; my inner clock seems to have changed, I now only wake up in the late hours of the early morning. I creep my way out, the smell, the pull is strong but I have to fight it. I have no idea were I am going so I walk aimlessly but at the same time, with a blurry destination. I've read many books, back when I had a semi normal life and I try to conjure up any memories of places that are small and dark and reachable. Forks, Washington comes to mind. The rainiest place in the continental US.
Perfect.
That is going to be a hell of a trip but I am up for it. I need to clear my head.
__
A week has passed and I have acquired a job. Big accomplishment, and guess what? I've stayed clean for a whole fucking week, this is cause for celebration. Unfortunately, I have no one to celebrate it with but now that I know where I am going I have a small amount of hope. I still wake up shaking violently and sweating a cold perspiration that scares the shit out of me. I still live on the streets. There is no other choice. I am known by my co-workers as the out cast, by choice. I don't mind it. They leave me alone I can live with this. There is a persistent guy that keeps on bugging me. He thought he could break me, I heard him snickering about it to his pimpled, greasy faced posse. What a bitch.
His name is Mike and he is approaching me right now, I am stirring the greasy, plastic smelling fries of a Mc Donald fast food place. How people can eat this disgusting shit is beyond me. The smell itself it revolting.
"Bella!" he exclaims as if we are long lost friends. What a prick. I ignore him, as is routine for me.
"What's coking good looking?" it sounds sickening coming off his mouth, I respond with my usual 'fuck off' but today he is persistent. More like a freaking inconvenience if you ask me.
"Bells C'mon" he tries to make a grab at me and I fling the hot greasy oil in my spatula at him. The greasy substance misses him by an inch and I stare at him, eyes unapologetic. I am having a particularly shitty day. The need is stronger than ever and it takes all I have not to run out side and beg one of my trusted sellers to give me another dose of peace. I move my weapon in a stabbing motion and he yelps back frightened. I am enjoying his girly attitude, this fits him more than that cocky demeanor he always carries with him. I feel my eyes closing in as I glare at him.
"Leave. Me. The. Fuck. Alone." I say slowly and in a low voice annunciating every word with a stab of my spatula in his direction. Once he is gone I turn back to my fries and allow my self a small smile. I probably resemble a raging lunatic right now but quite frankly I don't give a rats ass. Mike needed to step of his prissy pedestal.
The manager fired me that afternoon.
Fucking Mike had to go whinny on me and tell him what I had done. Fucking pussy can't do anything himself. I sound like a trucker right now but I can't help it. The street talk is instilled in me and I find it's an automatic thing when I am angry. I take off my apron on the spot and throw it in his face, I am a violent vixen today, it seems.
A trip to the library is in order. I shuffle in, the quiet, the calm, engulfing me. The pale yellow lights are dim and cozy. Warm. Everybody seems to have a purpose here and I suppose I do too. I am going to figure out how to get to Forks. I hit the ON button on the ancient computer and wait for the bright blue light to pop up. The computer doesn't disappoint.
After waiting for a couple of minutes, I type into the address bar and then click on maps. Typing in the Phoenix and Forks Washington in their respective places I tap my foot waiting for the computer to load the new site.
I stare at the small screen, by car it only takes a day. Just one day. I can reach my safe heaven in ONE day. My feelings are that of an elated child on Christmas Eve, this is truly like my own personal gift. I leave the library grinning. Who the fuck needs a job anyway?
__
"I am having trouble sleeping, I'm thinking of what you said"
My body aches in all the wrong places. My waist is sore, my hands almost anesthetized, my head is pulsating and I can feel the acid in my body perforating my stomach. I haven't eaten in a while. The hunger pangs are getting harder to endure. I succumbed to deft and stole a piece of bread from the basket of the sleeping granny that was sitting next to me. Oh wonderful, sweet, benevolent, wheat bread. I felt guilty and was once again consumed by self loathing. The nice woman I had stolen my food from had tried to converse with me and I had shut her down, I was apologizing by having some of her home made bread. I was real asshole.
My need is coming back full force. I wake up quivering and sweating in my coach seat, the bus driving steadily beneath me, I predict t may be a about 1 AM. I feel like throwing up or maybe just dry heaving. I stumble my way to the bathroom a hand on my aching stomach. I try to be discrete about it though, no need to attract unnecessary attention.
There is small hand sanitizer near the sink and I place small amounts inside my palms. I have the weirdest idea. I picture those sanitizing lotions washing away my sins and forming me into a perfect and pure person. Fat chance of that ever happening. I need redemption.
I am left weak again; as my body tries to empty itself out and finds there is nothing left. My back hurts and my throat feels like it is on fire. I lift my self up and get out. It seems my violent racks have alerted someone, he stares at me. His blond long hair and calm aura gives me a strange calming affect. I look away.
Shakily I sit down again and press my head against the headrest, another memory over takes me.
The girl is told to pack a bag with only the essentials; she nods quickly and rushes up the stares. She must be strong, strong for herself, for her mother. They haven't told her anything yet. No news on her mothers current state. She is worried and it settles on her features in the form mask. Although they have told her to take only the most necessary things, she grabs her mothers sketch book and couple of her paintings. This is the only way she feels; she will have her mother present at all times.
They are driving to the hospital and the crisp social worker is babbling on about inconsequential things. She does not feel inclined to listen. Cutting her off she asks what has happened to her mother and the nervous babble ceases immediately. The social worker replies with in a small voice that her mother is in a grave state and may not recover. She is addicted to heroin and is a possible alcoholic, then there is also the problem of her self induced cuts. She doesn't think Reene Swan is capable of taking care of her only daughter. The brown haired girl feels she should argue, but can't she knows she has taken care of her mother, not vice versa and is depressed by the thought.
They arrive at the hospital and the girl rushes to her mother's side, taking her hand and lightly caressing the bandages that covered the healing wrists. Small stray tears escaped her and she silently prayed to god to make her mother well again.