Sleep Through the Static

Author's note: This part starts the flashback. She's five, and its 1906. The song that was going through my mind when I wrote this was 'My Skin'. I don't know who it is by, but listen to it while you read these first few chapters, and you just might make yourself cry. I did, and I'm writing it. So, yeah. Kleenex warning. Though the real Kleenex warning comes in a few chapters. (And I'm sorry if I make you cry.)

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Momma was brushing through my long, black hair, making it fall softly onto my back. Once in awhile, I would reach up to try and touch a lock, but Momma would always stop me before I was able to touch even one strand. She would tell me to sit like a good, patient, child, and that is what I would try to do. Its good to try to be a good girl for your Momma. At least, that was what they would tell me.

Eventually, I was able to feel the process of braiding my hair begin, as Momma started to braid two long pigtails into my hair, tugging and pulling every so often.

"Momma, may I get up now?" I asked when the pulling began to hurt. I was beginning to feel as if I couldn't sit still for a moment longer.

"Please, Mary Alice, try to sit still for a moment. I'm pleading with you for you to sit like a patient child for a moment longer. You wouldn't want the neighbors thinking that you were an unruly child, would you?"

"No, Momma." I said as sweetly as I could, but my throat hurt in that way that means you want to cry when I said it. She didn't understand what it was like to sit still for a long time, and to not have your Momma understand that it was hard. I tried to fold my hands into my lap like she always wanted me to, but I found that my feet were still swinging back and forth in the chair that had my feet unable to hit the ground.

"Momma," I began again, "Where are we going today?" Momma only dresses me up like this if she wants to show me off, usually to the church ladies. I don't like having to make myself pretty for them, but it was the only time that Momma pretended that she cared about me, so I went with her. It was hard, though, for me to sit through the teas that we went to with them. Sometimes, I fell asleep. That was bad.

Because of what I would see when I close my eyes.

She was finishing with the braiding of my hair, and I tried not to reach up to touch one of the braids. "We will be going to get you a new sun dress, Mary Alice. You'll enjoy that, won't you?"

"Yes, Momma." I did like new dresses, and pretty things.

"Then we will be heading to tea with some of the ladies from the Church." She told me that a moment later. I could feel my heart sink in my chest. I would have to show off for the ladies again. I tried to pretend that I didn't mind.

"Will Cynthia be coming with us?" I asked politely. Cynthia was my little sister. I already knew the answer to my question, but Momma didn't have to know about that. Whenever she learns about one of my come-true dreams, she calls Daddy in. I don't like that, so I try not to think about it. If I didn't think about it, I could pretend that Momma still loved me, that she wasn't scared of me. If I didn't think about it, I could pretend that Daddy doesn't hate me, because of what Momma has become from knowing me.

But I knew, because I like to think.

"No, Cynthia is too little to come for tea." That was exactly what Momma had said in my come true dream. Cynthia was only three. She was better than me. She didn't have come true dreams.

I think maybe Momma did love me, once, when I was little, when I was a kid, before I told her that I saw things that happened. That's when she didn't love me anymore. Even Cynthia is scared of me, Momma keeps her away from me, and she's only three. I know that Momma tries to make sure that I don't notice these things, but I do anyway.

I don't even know what a witch is, but I do remember the first day that Momma called me one. It was the first time that I'd had a vision, and I think I scared Momma really bad. That's when she called in Daddy, and he hit me while she yelled. I don't think Daddy wanted to do it, but I don't think he had a choice.

I was three. I was the same age that Cynthia is now.

"Okay, Momma." I tried to smile. "What kind of sundress are we going to get?" A yellow one, with lace and embroidered flowers. Daisies. I would look cute in it. It would fit the first time.

I jumped back about a foot in the air, and that made Momma bang her hand on top of my head. Immediately I started to shake. I started to say, "Momma," In my small voice, but I stopped. Momma can't help me, she can only hurt with these things. It's never happened before like that. It's only at night! It's only at night! I screamed those words inside my head. I'm not a witch. Witches are bad things, witches do bad things. I'm just a kid. I'm just a five year old kid. I'm not a witch!

"Mary Alice? Mary Alice, you talk to me this instant!" I jumped when I realized that Momma was shaking my shoulders, and was yelling at me to answer her, but I wasn't saying anything, just sitting in my chair and shaking.

"Momma," was all that I could manage. I'm scared. I don't want that sundress anymore.

"Mary Alice, what is wrong with you?" Momma's voice is angry, and I can see Cynthia looking over with interest from the other room. She's the perfect kid, at three. She doesn't make noise and she does what she is told. She sleeps at night in the company of normal dreams, filled with happy things. I see bad things in my dreams.

And now when I'm awake, too.

"Mary Alice, have you had one of those dreams?"

"No, Momma." I said, scared. "No, Momma, I'm awake."

She slapped my face, and I whimpered. "Don't you lie to me, young lady. Don't you see?" Momma said, and I wondered what she was talking about. "These things, they aren't supposed to be, and they take over you." Her voice was angry, and I don't think that she cared if I understood what she was talking about or not. She was just as scared as I was, only, she was scared of me.

"Momma, I didn't mean to."

"It doesn't matter, Mary Alice! What will the neighbors think?"

"We don't have to tell, Momma." I was crying now, the tears streaming down my face. "We don't have to tell. We can go to tea still. The church ladies won't know. Momma, I'll be good. Momma, please!" She won't look at me anymore, but she nods her head. She was still refusing to look at me when she said, "We'll be leaving soon." She left me on the chair, and didn't come back when I shouted. The chair was too high for me to get down on my own, I'm only three feet and two inches tall. I think Momma knew that when she left. I couldn't hurt her if I was stuck here. Momma pretended that it was only the neighbors that she was worried about, but I could see it in her eyes. She was scared of me. I could see what she would tell Daddy later, too.

I curled my legs up to my chest. "Momma," It came out as a broken sob. I didn't want Momma. I didn't want the Momma who was braiding my hair and yelling. I wanted the one who shared Christmas' with me before Cynthia was born. When Cynthia was born, things changed. She loved Cynthia more than me. I didn't blame Cynthia, it wasn't her fault. She couldn't help that she was better than me. I was a bad child, and I knew it.
I was so confused. Momma didn't understand that I couldn't help it.

I curled my knees up to my chest and hugged them. I didn't care that Momma would say that it was not pretty to sit like this, but I wanted to please her. Then she would love me, right? I put my knees down, but then the pain in my chest came back. It felt as if someone had taken away all of my insides and left the hole there. I put my knees back to my chest and hugged them tighter than ever.