Night unfurled with a strain of a mother's hopeless sobs.
"As long as you're here," promised her daughter's whisper, "I'll never go to Haddonfield. I'll never leave you."
XXX
Stuffed animals perched atop the bookshelves of nursery rhymes and fairy tales unread. Their beady black eyes stared aimlessly into the walls of the room which smelled of forgetfulness and neglect.
Under the slightest of weight, the floorboards creaked as Carmen Doe hauled her suitcase atop a bed slightly too small for her frame.
A plume of dust tickled her nostrils . Carmen sneezed once. Twice. Before a third, the familiar whine of wood startled her and she spun around.
Behind her, with his hand raised in a calming manner, was her father - a stocky unremarkable man with thinning hair near his temples. Carmen could not see much of herself in him.
"Whoa there, kiddo. It's just me," he said. His gray eyes fabricated amusement.
Carmen replied with a sound of embarrassment.
Her father smiled then cast a fond glance about the room. She saw him turn in the direction of her desk. Though she couldn't see his face, she knew he was frowning by the exaggerated slope of his shoulders and wondered if it would've matched hers.
"God, I haven't touched this room since…" He paused, containing a sigh.
… Since the divorce.
Something twisted in Carmen's chest and quickly she unclipped her suitcase. As long as she kept her hands moving, she could stay calm. "You and me both," Carmen croaked as she undid the suitcase straps securing her clothes.
"Come on," he said, approaching her to ruffle her head, only to unravel her messy black bun so that her hair fell in messy curls down her back. Carmen thought the gesture to be demeaning because she wasn't a child anymore. Her father had to have known he missed that chance.
"Get settled in and we can head out for dinner. Maybe, buy some things for your room if the store is still open," he said
Carmen laid out her belongings on her bed, separating the categories of her clothes in stacks. Pants. Blouses. Dresses. So many colors yet, red stood out to her the most. Much like the rose she'd set upon her mother's casket.
Her hands stilled as parts of her concentration fell away. It wasn't until she felt the tears cool upon her cheeks did she notice her father's closeness and his hand clapped over her rigid shoulder.
"I know you miss her." He said as gently as he could. "I do too, Carmen."
His words were of no consolation to her.
Because she was alone in a place where her dead mother never wanted her to be.
Never go to Haddonfield.