Crashed CHAPTER 9

I awoke to a soft knock on my door, followed by my Mom's voice. "Rouge?"

My mom's voice?

I sit up. This isn't my room.

Well, it is, just my room in my parents' house.

"Mom?" I question, slowly sliding out of my bed and my old way-too-purple bedsheets.

I look down and notice the pajamas I am wearing. Black pants with purple trim on the bottom, and a black tank top. I remember these… they were my favorite.

I stare at my door blankly as it slowly opens and my mom slips into my room with some small cake slice. "I'm sorry it's not much, but I had to sneak out to get some for you."

Sneak out. Because dad wouldn't let her leave the house.

I see she scratched the number 18 hastily into the icing, probably with the fork in her hand. A plastic one.

Oh no, I think. This is it, my 18th birthday.

Why am I seeing this?

"He'll know if he sees the fork in the sink, so I took this from the little café in the store. You'll just have to hide it when you're done, just in case." She kept smiling, although it was obvious she was scared. "Hurry and eat it, before he comes back."

I attempted to smile. The only time I ever could smile was when my mom was with me and wasn't doped up on drugs or off having some affair. Only know, we became reliant on each other, because Dad had found out about her sneaking around and had since then locked her up, and the only time I was ever out of the house is when I was at school. I couldn't even hang out with Blaze anymore, and she's my best friend.

It doesn't matter, mom. You're still going to die today.

I take the cake. I want her to be happy.

She smiles, kisses my forehead. "Happy birthday, sweetie."

As soon as she turns around I'm struck with horrible grief. When this actually happened, I was feeling as happy as I could be with the way I was living. Mom basically risked her life to get me a slice of a cake.

Dad never found out about the cake, though. That fork sat in my underwear drawer when I ran from the house, and he never knew about it.

All I can do is force myself to eat the cake, and wait to hear the door open and close. Wait to hear Dad's warm greetings, even though he was about to pull a gun on her just a few hours later.

I dragged myself down the stairs, taking in the environment I used to live in. Feeling the stained sticky carpet under my feet, grabbing onto the railing that was broken in one spot from when Dad forced Mom to have sex with him after a night out, and then when she wasn't responding to his actions the way he wanted he pushed her so forcefully she broke through it, and feeling the peeling paint on the wall. My hand ran over one of the many holes Dad's fists decorated the walls with.

I watched as Dad hugged my mom, kissed her, whispered in her ear as if she was the best wife in the world, and he was the perfect husband. My mom kept wanting to see the good side of him, and he put on a show, pretended to be all she wanted until she slipped up. Until she made one wrong move, said one wrong word, looked at him the wrong way.

And boy, did she look at him wrong today.

He didn't find the cake. But he found her scared eyes.

"You don't seem very okay today, Jade." Dad tiled her chin up so their eyes could meet. "You're jumpy." He picked up her hands. "And you're shaking."

"Just a little cold." She smiled.

"Oh." He led her to the table, and they sat.

And that's when he noticed me.

"Hey, Rouge! Birthday girl! Come sit down." He pulled out a chair and patted it.

I sped up, quickly following his orders.

"Good morning." I whispered.

"Quiet as usual. I got you something."

I tried not to let my ears flatten.

He reaches into his work bag, and pulls out a smaller plastic bag. He dumps it on the table.

I already know what it is, but I let him tell me.

"Birth control," he says, "you know, so you don't go and produce a little accident such as yourself."

There he goes again. I'm not his kid, I'm just the accident that "ruined his life".

Mom's eyes widen. She looks at the pills. "This isn't necessary, Jakob."

And here's where he snaps.

"Oh-ho, yeah it is. Do you understand how much this girl has ruined my life!? Do you!?" He slaps me, hard.

I expected it. I couldn't get myself to avoid it.

"Eighteen years, I raised you. I didn't want to. You were forced on me, because your mom decided to lie to me and tell me we were protected. Nothing like you would happen." He stares Mom down. "You lied."

"I always wanted a baby. You knew that…"

I finally speak up. "Dad please leave her—"

He hits me again.

Suddenly mom decides it's time to step in, after all these years just sitting on the sidelines. After all these years of letting him beat me, she decided this was the time she should stand up.

"Stop." She whimpered. She seemed to realize she was too quiet, so she repeated herself. Louder. "Stop it."

Dad's eyes widened in disbelief. "What was that?" He raised his hand, ready to strike. "Did you just talk back to me?"

Mom nodded. Glanced at me. "It's her birthday, Jakob. Can't you be a little nicer?"

Dad throws his fist, mom winces, but he stops just as he's about to hit her face. "You know what? I'm not in the mood right now."

I had already seen this play through. Already saw it happen. But for some reason this part still shocked me.

He turned around, opened the fridge, and grabbed a beer. "Out of my sight." He commands.

I couldn't really control what I was doing. I just followed the path of that day, I slowly headed up the stairs while Mom locked herself in her room to cry.

I got to the bathroom, and ran the bathtub. And, guess what, I sat in that tub and cried. I cried until I fell asleep.

…

I am very grateful I woke up before the dream got to the part when my mom was killed. This is crazy, these dreams. I haven't had a good dream in who knows how long…

This is the only time I ever wished I'd just dream about Shadow instead.

I look around—I did pull myself back into Knuckles' bed last night, but why didn't I bother to put my clothes back on?

I scrambled to find what I was wearing last night, the dress that seemed far too uncomfortable at this moment. I threw it on anyway.

I saw Knuckles laying there, still sound asleep. Something in me stirred—was it guilt? Sadness? This mix of feelings made me want to throw up.

I was frustrated because, let's be honest, growing up I was hooking up with a lot of guys. And I mean a lot. It was how I dealt with my constant stress, whenever I could sneak out anyway. But I have never felt this conflicted. Never felt like this just wasn't supposed to happen.

I contemplated just leaving. Maybe I'd leave a note like "I forgot something important at home! See you later!" only that would sound so fake. I don't think Knuckles is that stupid.

I'll just send him a text when I leave. Tell him an emergency came up. It's stupid, I know, he won't believe it. But I can't stay here. I can't stay here wallowing in my shame, while trying to hide it from him at the same time.

When I make it to the living room, I was in such a rush I didn't notice something was on the floor and I tripped. I silently swore to myself hoping I didn't wake him up.

"What's this?" I whisper when I pick up the box that tried to kill me. It's an intricate thing, maybe a jewelry box? Black with sharp swirling designs, almost like a dead tree's branches trying to swallow up the whole thing. How did this even get here? Seems too… gothic for him.

There's a lock on it in the shape of an hourglass. This whole thing is just… creepy.

It opens.

It's empty.

I hear a rustling in Knuckles' room, so I panic and shove the box under the couch, and run for the door.

I can hear his voice calling for me when I spread my wings and fly towards the forgiving clouds.

...

"Blaze!?" I called into the empty apartment, hoping she'd magically show back up. Blaze has been gone for what, almost two days? I was too wrapped up in—well, Shadow—and everything else to even realize there might be something wrong.

She left with Silver, so I wasn't worried. But now it's been a bit and she still hasn't returned a single phone call or text, and I haven't gotten anything from Silver either.

Just in case, I call her. No answer, of course.

"Blaze," I say into the phone, almost lecturing her voicemail. "If you don't call me back within the next five minutes, I'm calling the police."

I step carefully around the apartment, suddenly scared. What if something happened while she was with Silver? Is she still even alive?

No, Rouge, don't think that drastically.

I have only actually seen Silver a handful of times, and every time went well and I really thought he was a great guy for Blaze, but now he just randomly shows up a lot more often and whisks Blaze away? Something isn't right.

Maybe he decided to quit his secret job or something.

I check every room, looking for some trace of her, of anything being disturbed, any sign that she has come back, but everything is the same. Same dirty towel on the floor in the bathroom, same bra thrown on her bed, same dishes in the sink.

I check the clock, it's been almost ten minutes, I guess I lost track when I was searching the apartment. I start to panic and pull out my phone.

No missed calls. Not one text.

I dialed her number one more time, got her voicemail again. "I hope you're okay…" I whisper.

When I hang up I start to dial 911, until I'm interrupted by someone reaching from behind me and pressing a rag to my face.

I can't even fight it; the world goes black too fast.