Chapter One: The Box Has Too Many Sides
She shot forward with cold sweat dripping from her tan skin, some of the city lights cascaded through her window of her apartment. It cast strange shadows on the room around and her face. She was almost sure that there was light reflecting off the sweat on her face.
Her face was round and chubby—almost child-like with her fat cheeks and a winning smile. She let the covers fall from her body, and then stood off to the side of the bed—the pink nightgown she wore was wrinkled, the back and around the neckline were soaked sweat.
Her eyes were slender and baggy; signs of unrest. There was a little glimmer of her fun loving self-still there, but most of her eye was as dark as milk-less coffee and guarded by the multitude of well-groomed lashes. On both sides of her face her raven hair was slung down neatly but the tips were wet with sweat and tinted with a hint of scarlet hue that shimmered in the city light violently. The silky strands hung down just past her shoulders, the ends stopped in a perfectly straight line.
The dream had come all too soon, as it did most nights that it came—the vivid images that she longed to forget. Her slender fingers met and she sighed heavily. She looked in the mirror across the room, her perfectly bottom heavy hourglass shape stood there looking back at her, the muscular legs supporting it. Tears sparkling under her eyes, she had to wonder about her life, Everyone looks at me and say I've got the perfect body, perfect life—if only they knew.
She reached over on the dresser and retrieved her pill container, a small bottle of antidepressants. She popped four of them in and swallowed them, before they even went down all the way she could feel herself getting over the dream a dream she never liked to admit to having. It just felt like she had always dome something wrong, like it was her fault that her father sexually abused her, her fault that those high student that raped her when she was only thirteen.
She plopped down on the edge of the bed and sighed, she dropped onto her back laying down, and letting her lids fall to cover her eyes. She fingered a long tendril of hair between her index and middle fingers slowly—her general reaction to being nervous. Beatrix, You've got to grow up and forget about that past stuff—you have a 14-year-old Daughter now! And after all the work it took to get her back from your mom and prove yourself a worthy parent—don't blow it.
Beatrix looked back to spy the clock's time—5:46—it was almost time for her to be up. Today was the big day they had to be at the airport, a lot was going to change after today. She got to her feet once more and slowly moved over to the closet.
When she reached the door she stopped and started to rummage around inside of the small room. She tossed a pair of shorts on the bed and then pulled a green tank top out, she looked them over with criticizing eyes quickly. "This should do—" then she tossed the tank top on the bed with the shorts. And bent the rest of the way over to find some shoes to wear. She would be out of there and started on breakfast quick.
Penny watched as Dena brushed her hair in front of the mirror. She liked that hair longer, and a little curlier than her own. Hers was almost perfectly straight, but Dena's curled under and bounced at the end. As Dena got done she sat the brush down and came out of the bathroom, which was across the hall from Penny's room. She wanted hair like that—who the Hell was she kidding, she wanted to be Dena, she was beautiful, smart, had a good stable job, didn't need to answer to any boy to feel special, but still had enough in her to be sexy. Dena was her model for what to be later in life; she and Dena are kind of alike in a few ways.
Penny picked her guitar up and looked down at it, she hit a few chords and then started to play one of her favorite songs. Since she was using her acoustic it sounded it a little off.
"Sometimes I get so weird,
"I even freak my self out
"I laugh myself to sleep—it's my——lullaby
"Sometimes I drive so fast,
"Just to feel the danger
"I want to scream, it makes me feel alive
"Is it enough to love
"Is it enough to breath
"Somebody rip my heart out and leave me here to bleed
"Is it enough to die—
"Somebody save my life
"I'd rather be anything by ordinary, please."
The arousing aroma's of Beatrix's cooking filling the air cut her off in mid verse, it was a smell that she had gotten used to over the last year of living with Beatrix—things had changed a lot but she was starting to get used to life with Beatrix. She put her guitar back in the hard case and moved it closer to the door.
She walked over to the dresser and opened the drawer, quickly she checked for Dena's presence. She lifted up the panties and bras that were there. Under all of them was a small box of razors. She lifted one out of the box carefully and watched the light glint off of the silvery blade. It was so magical to watch that.
Slowly she pressed it against her palm and slid it down slowly. As she watched the blood slip fourth a strange stinging sensation reverberated through her body. It felt good, not like pain—but it felt like some kind of cleansing—like this was the only way that she could be forgiven for the sins of her father. The sin that he, her Father, had committed in her conception; Her grandmother had only told her a year back, she was a child of rape.
Sure the cutting hadn't started immediately, it was an accident. She had been at a birthday part and knocked the punch bowl off the table. When she went down to get one of the shards up, it cut her pretty good across the hand. When she saw it she winced expecting it to feel painful—but the pain was like a release from the tension. She had to have more of that.
Besides she never cut deep enough to scar, and it wasn't like she was committing suicide—just constantly fasting and cutting her self a little bit—no harm done. And if she couldn't fast she'd have to throw her food up.
Penny was an energetic, moderately smart, and cute fourteen year old. She had everything that she could have possibly needed, or at least people would say that. But if they only knew her personal life—If only they knew. Her mind was so deep in thought every night, her head throbbed with questions that she hoped to answer only to be disappointed in the end.
The only other thing that made her feel even a little better was her guitar. Guitar was what she did it was her thing. She had started playing when she was about ten, and now she was good enough that she could play full songs, and even play some by ear.
From down stairs she could hear Beatrix call out, "Penny, breakfast!" She called in melodious tone. Penny jumped off the bed and ran to the edge of the stairs.
"Coming!" Penny yelled down the dark stairs. She ran back to the room wrapped her hand in gauze quickly and grabbed her guitar case, she had to have that packed to leave, then she got down the stairs and picked up her skate board that was standing next to the door, she grabbed that up too and moved to sit with the rest of the stuff for the movers to take.
Penny wasn't sure how she felt about moving to Houston, she had never been there before, well not that she could remember. She thought about how her room used to look, her posters of her idols, there was one of Jesus on the back of the room door, which she kept closed most of the time anyway. And then there was the pictures of old punk stars and bands; Avril Lavigne, Linkin Park, all her other favorite bands. She shook the thought off quickly; in the new apartment she would have all her stuff pinned up and soon after be able to add more to it.
Beatrix called again called again, "Penny!" It was that one word get in here tone. Penny came running and stopped at the door to the kitchen. Beatrix looked her over, she had a white undershirt with a denim jacket on over it, and a plaid skirt with a chrome studded belt. "Are you sure you want to wear that, all that metal will make the airport security go nuts." Her mother said.
"I'll live Beatrix." Penny said.
Beatrix gave her an odd look, maybe Penny didn't catch it, but it was one of those, I wish you could learn to call me mom things. That was what Beatrix wanted more than anything else—to be acknowledged as mom.
She shook the thought off and put a plate in front of Penny. "Thanks." Penny said, she went for her fork but then Beatrix stopped her.
"Hey, you wait until Dena gets down here so that we can all pray and eat together." Beatrix said.
"I know, I was just moving the fork." Penny dropped it rolling her eyes and falling back in her chair with her arms crossed.
As she did Beatrix noticed the cut on Penny's palm. She pointed to it, "What happened there?" Asked
From around the corner Dena darted in, she was dressed in a tight black blouse and white skirt. She moved slowly for the table. Penny watched her through rose-colored glasses—she wanted to be like that when she grew up. So perfect, the girl of every guys dreams. That's what Dena was.
"Okay, so now we can get this done and get to JFK, right?" Asked Penny.
Beatrix ignored her, "I'll say the prayer."
