Something
just insn't right
I can feel it inside
The truth isn't from
behind me
You can't deny
When I turn the light off
When I
close my eyes
Reality overcomes me
I'm living a lie
-Together by Avril Lavigne
Her surroundings blink and shudder, an everchanging landscape that swirls around her collapsed figure. She tries to claw at what ever is pinning her down, but when she touches it, it slides through her grasping fingers like sand. She screams out brokenly, but all that reaches her is an echo of that call.
"Please," she begs it. "I can't breathe!"
Who ever it is lets out its own whimper, but doesn't desist in crushing her to the ground. She tries pleading again, but finds no air to continue. Her whole body now feels like lead, and the lack of oxygen makes her head pound.
A man appears before her instantly - a dark figure that she can only see from the knees down. She uses her failing arms to reach out and touch him, and feels a warmth grow in her when she finds he doesn't disappear.
"Help," she wheezes to him, her eyes fluttering.
All of a sudden, the weight pinning her down is thrown off her, and she finds her lungs sucking back air thankfully. She struggle to use her limbs, to move away while she has a chance, but she can't seem to get enough air to her muscles to do so.
"Here Jane," the man says in a familiar, warm voice. He offers me her hand and she lets go of his black shoe to make a grab for it. His hand is warm and assuring, and suddenly everything seems unimportant when compared to the fact that he's holding her tight.
She raises her shining eyes to try and see his face, but its cast in shadows by a black baseball cap. She begins to open her mouth to say something, and suddenly the whole scene is taken over by a brilliant white light.
"Oh god..." she gasped, sitting up bolt straight and fingering her wild hair as she closed her eyes against the morning sun. "That damn dream again!"
O-O-O-O-O-O-O
Jane brushed out her blue shorts as she leaned sleepily against the kitchen counter. Her eyes struggled to stay open, and her whole body seemed to want to give out. Those dreams always seemed to drain her, and made her whole body feel as if she hadn't slept a wink.
The toast jumped excitedly out of the toaster, shocking her from her drowsy state. She threw them onto a plate quickly and spread butter across the surfaces while they were still hot. The day ahead of her loomed, and so she pushed it away in favour of the mystery man.
He was always there, always making her feel safe the moment he appears. She could never see his face, and everytime she tried she could almost feel her heart breaking from disappointment.
Why don't I just tell him to take off the hat? Why don't I ask him how he knows I'm always in trouble?
Why do I put so much damn stock in a silly dream?
"You're up?"
Jane turned around in shock, and saw her mother, Susan Hart, smiling from the bottom of the stairs. Jane swallowed the lump of toast she had been absently chewing and nodded.
Susan Hart always managed to look like she's glowing - Jane figued it was her self sacrifices that gave her that saintly appearance. A single mom of two teenaged girls, a member of the town council, a hospice worker and an open house for new comers down on their luck, had her mom floating around with the knowledge she did only good. It makes Jane feel a right loser when she's around her, knowing all she did is mooch to and from school wondering why an 18 year old had no idea what she wants from life.
"Morning, mom," Jane mumbled as she stuffed the rest of the toast into her mouth. "What's up?"
Susan walked towards her daughter, her feet padding across the tiles until she could wrap the girl up in a hug. When she drew away, Jane noticed she was wearing her nurse sweats.
"You have to work?" she cried out indignantly, putting her hands on her hips. "Mom, you said you wouldn't have to! I was going to make some pasta."
"I'm sorry, sweetie," Susan cooed, "but Ms. Tupper is taking a turn for the worse. I have to be there with her."
"Oh." Jane said, stumped, "Sorry."
"Make it anyway," says Susan brightly. "Maybe I'll be able to kick off early."
Jane gave grimace, knowing her mother would only be able to get off early if Ms. Tupper "checked out" early. How could she make food with the hope of that?
"No mom," she spoke to the floor, "it's ok. Maybe next time."
"Ok," Susan sighed as she leant in to kiss Jane's forhead. "Next week."
"I had that dream again," Jane said to her mothers back as she walked to the fridge.
"That's nice, dear."
Jane rolled her eyes and moved out of the kitchen, walking over to the dining table whereher schoolbag lay waiting. She slung it over her shoulder and gave her mom a small smile.
"I'll see you tonight," Jane says as she tried to make a go for the backdoor.
"Where's your sister?" Susan asked suddenly, and Jane cringed. In her stationary stanze, her hand clentched around the doornob, she stared hopelessly at the edge of the forest that met their backyard.
If only my sister could stumble out of them, smiling and waving at me as if to tell me everything is ok.
"Well?" her mom promptes.
Jane slowly turned herself around, her brain whirled quickly as it tried to serach for a good excuse. Susan's eyes were sharp and peircing, making Jane feel as if her mother could pull all her secrets out.
"Swimming practice." she answered hesitantly. Jane's eyes travelled to a spot just past my mom's shoulder.
"Swimming practice," her mom repeated.
"Yeah," Jane said quickly, readjusting her backpack straps. "She tried out last night, that's why she came home late, after you went to bed. She got in, and now she's at her first morning practice."
"Oh," Susan said, her lips smiling proudly as she absorbed the lie as truth. "My little girl is so talented!"
"Yes," Jane nodded, just happy she swallowed it. "Very." Then she turned and rushed out the back door, before Susan could ask her anything else.
It was a hot day in Louisiana, the sun already baking the lawn. Jane's brown hair brushes the back of my neck and I already feel like I'm suffocating in the heat. Her brown truck waits in the driveway, and one can only imagine the oven it had become in the hours sitting idle in that weather.
Jane grumbled as she took out her car keys and unlocked the driver seat door. Her backpack was thrown in first just as a wave of heat hit her face like a punch.
"Oh bugger." Jane gasped as she moved away from the opening and leant against the metal body of the car. "Oh freaking hell!" she cried out again, jumping away as her skin burnt in protest.
"Jane!" she heard, and as she turn towards the street she coudl already hear her sister's giggles. Sasha Hart was happily tripping out of a black beat down car, her clothes ruffled and her hair a mess. The girl turned, leant in through the passenger window and kissed the driver. He was differnet to the red rabbit driver from the week previous, and Jane watched wistfully as the pair passionately locked lips.
Sasha straigtened up and the boy burnt some rubber as he peeled out. Jane rolled her eyes, and watched as her sister stared after the boy for a few more moments. Sasha was beautiful, her light brown hair long and around her waist as it sparkled in the sun. She was wearing the same clothes as yesterday morning, and it made indignant anger bubble up in Jane.
How dare she just assume I'll cover for her? Why should I cover up for her as she goes around with every boy from our senior year?
Finally, Sasha turned around and walked over to Jane, a spring to her step.
I wonder how long this one will last, Jane wonders dryly.
"He's the one." She stated happily. She pressed a hand against a burnt red cheek and beamed, "Look, I'm all flushed!"
"Its already 30 degrees out! Of course, you're flushed." Jane mumbled as crossed her arms over her chest.
Sasha's clothes were dirty, like she'd been rollinga round in dirt, and her hair was in knots and swirls. She looked like a tornado victim as she played idly with he lipstick smudged lips.
"You could at least try and look normal when you're coming home," Jane snarked, moving towards the cab of her truck so she didn't have to look at her eyes.
I'm just jealous, Jane scolded, but I won't tell her that.
"What did you tell mom?" Sasha asked, her hands brushed some errant hairs out of her sweating face as she spoke.
"You got on the swimming team last night." Jane replied hotly as she jammed the key into the ignition. "You were at morning practice."
She turned her key and heard the engine roar. The sound reminded her of a lion, and she smiled indulgently as the car began to vibrate to life, rumbling as she shifted her gears into reverse.
"What!? Jane! I can't even swim!" her sister yelled over the pur. "Are you dense?!"
"Sorry, Sasha!" she yelled back darkly, turning to look at Sasha through her grimy window. "Next time lie for your friggin' self!"
Than Jane backed up quickly, flicking gravel up at Sashqa as she beat her hasty retreat. Sasha Hart had a terrible temper that might have had a windsheild shattered by a pitched cork wedge. She got it from their dad; and ever since he deserted, Sasha decided to compensate for the lack of temper that resulted.
Thank god I'm as normal as I am.
O-O-O-O-O-O-O
"This is 96.7, The Tunage. Coming up next, the new Papa Roach."
Jane switched the radio off as she swung her car into the driveway of her home. As she passed by the front lawn, she tried to peer into the house for evidence of habitation, but saw nothing.
Of course not, Ms. Tupper has been 'taking a turn for the worst' for the past month now. Why should she stop now?
She turned her keys, and the engine cut its self off mid roar. The silence that followed was only punctuated by the cicadas and crickets playing their buzz mellody in the early afternoon. Jane grabbed her backpack from the passenger seat and slipped it up her arms an onto her shoulders. She then pushed open her door and swung her legs out into the open air.
Her hair, now up in a poytail, swung around and touched her heated cheek as she jumped out from the cab. There was a light breeze coming as 5pm approached. And the sun, close to touching the tips of the trees, was a tinted red color.
Jane un hitched the back of her pick up and heaved herself up into the back. Her groceries were stored in four old milk cartons that were strapped down, it took a good few inutes of muscle straining to release the catches and free the boxes. Jane liked the work though, the muscle straining activity took her mind off the dream for what seemed like the first time that day.
She brought it all in, box after box, and unpacked in silence.
The house was quiet apart from the ruste of plastic, and the opening and closing of cupboards. Jane looked forward to curling up on the couch with her meal and watching some bad TV.
Maybe mom and Sasha being out won't be the worst thing in the world.
An hour later saw Jane Hart flipping through the channels as she cast my empty bowl aside.
"-Where you lead, I will follow-"
"-So You Think You Can Dance-"
"-Lucky there's a Family Guy-"
"-Kramer!-"
"-Today, on Breaking News at 6pm."
She froze, her hand on the next channel button as she watched a figure flash on the screen. She recognised the smiling man as that New York Senator who got shot the day before. The newscaster spoke on in a firm, knowledgeable tone that her lips seemed to have no trouble forming around.
"Nathan Petrelli, who resigned only a month ago, was holding a confrence yesterday afternoon when he was shot point blank by someone in the crowd."
A clip was shown of the man, whose strong, heroic jaw was dropped low as he looked down at the bleeding holes in his stomach. A man at his left side, who looked distinctly like him, grabbed Petreli as he slipped sideways. The cameraman loost the scene of the dying senator in search of the shooter, but nothing came of the following moments but scenes of a panic stricken crowd, all trying to rush for cover from a murder who seems to have disappeared.
"The police are making a desperate plea for anyone with information to call the hotline shown at the bottom of the screen."
Jane looked down at the number, marking it in her mind in some vain hope that she had any information to help. But it was all miles away, in a state that she'd only seen in TV shows. Jane had no hope of helping them, though she wished she did.
Nathan Petrelli's mother and brother then fill the screen as they make a statement. The mother, whose eyes were filled with tears, spoke into a microphone, her voice wavering with emotion. The brother, Peter Petrelli, stood silent, his hands clasped behind his back, as his eyes bored holes into the ground.
"My son only aimed to help." Mrs. Petrelli said. "And his time was cut tragically short by a man, who I can only say, is a villan. Who ever you are," she spoke now to the camera, "Please, leave my family to their greif. Turn yourself in."
She stepped down from the podium and took her son by the upper arm. He wrentched it free from her though, and snarled something descreetly into her ear. As he stormed off, his mother's shoulders shook with suppressed cries, and she was fianlly helped off by a police officer.
Jane shook her head slowly and switched the TV off. Unable to take anymore of their tears.
She recalled the day when he was elected, the news of his victory big enough to interest all of Louisiana. Jane had been happy for him, as much as she could be anyway. It had been a few days after her 18 birthday, and a month after her dad had left. She had watched Nathan making pleadges to help his people, to be faithful to all, and had wished her father could be more like that. To be more trustworthy.
But my dad never loved me enough to earn my trust. And I never loved him enough to give it willingly.
She moved to get off the couch, and that's when her whole life began to change.
The back porch light, that was motion activated, switched on. She could hear the porch boards squeak under weight, and felt fear grip at her stomach. Her sister barely weighed 120 - she wouldn't make those noises - and her mother always entered through the front door.
Jane's whole body turned rigid as she strained for any tell tale signs of a burglar. But nothing came, and after a few moments, the porch light turned off.
Her whole body relaxed as the silence fell upon her once more. Jane let out a sigh, and took her bowl off into the kitchen, still feeling a little off, but figuring it was from the lack of rest she had the night before. Jane turned on the faucet of the sink and waited until it turned hot before she began to wash out her single dish. The silence stretched on.
Sometimes I feel so alone.
"Hello, Jane."
She screamed so loud that the dish crashing on the floor barely registerd.
