(Disclaimer- i own no twilighty men. how unfortunate.)
so i've put this on here twice now. because the first time i put up the wrong one.
and then i lost everything. and its been very annoying trying to do all this again.
rah. i am such an impatient person. it isn't even at all amusing. but anyway. chapter five.
yay. read and review please. thanks.
Forgive and Forget
Things had been going smoothly. It'd been a week since I'd come home from my mental breakdown on the highway, and my parents seemed to think that I was sane enough to go grocery shopping by myself and do other normal teenage activities. My mother still seemed jumpy around me, and my dad hardly looked me in the eye, but I didn't pay attention to the stab that was to my chest. I ignored it, just like I ignored the urge to run from the room screaming, headed in the direction of Forks, Washington. But I'd be there soon enough. Tonight, I planned on telling my parents that I wanted to go to college there, in Olympia. Hopefully, like in my dream, my mother would fill my pockets with green. Then I'd be able to buy my old house again. If it was even there. If it existed.
I sighed dramatically, staring sadly in the direction of the living room as I dragged myself sluggishly down the stairs. It was a vain attempt at making a dramatic entrance, seeing as no one here was paying any attention to me. My dad was sitting on the couch, gazing at the television without actually seeing it, my mom sewing in the corner like her life depended on it, probably just to keep herself busy so she wouldn't have to talk to me. I guess this just wasn't her lucky night, because I fully intended on speaking with her.
"Mom?" My voice was loud in the quiet room, shaky. My dad blinked lazily at the television while my mom's teeth clenched, sending teensy ripples along her jaw. I pursed my lips at the reluctance in her eyes as she turned to look at the floor by my feet. That was her only response. I sighed. "Can I talk to you in the kitchen for a minute?"
Silently, slowly, she placed her fabrics and her needles down on the wooden chair, smoothing her skirt. A quiet cough came from where she stood as she softly cleared her throat. I slid my tongue along the sharp edge of my teeth in irritation, annoyed with the fact that she was still afraid of me, blatantly so. I tapped my fingers on the wall beside me.
"It's kind of important." I pressed, aggravation faintly coloring my tone. Her eyes darted to her husband and back, wider than before. She hurried to me, still indisposed, still scared. It made me angry. I shoved my fists into the big pocket of yet another sweatshirt, feeling a new routine being made. I rapped my fingers slightly harder against the wall, the drumming getting a little louder. She practically jumped into the chair in the kitchen, still avoiding my eyes. It was like all of sudden we weren't the same people anymore. She wasn't the same caring mother, and I wasn't the same normal kid. She was now the meek—but still fully malicious—mouse, and I was suddenly the murderous, insane spawn of Satan, capable of anything.
"Look, Mom," I started, staring her straight in the eye. For one split second, her eyes met mine, and I stopped speaking entirely. I was too absorbed in trying to read the emotion in her expression. My silence only scared her, though, and she looked back at the table before I could detect the feeling I'd seen. I grinded my teeth before continuing. "I think it's time I went off to college. As you know, I've been accepted at that university in Olympia, Washington." I paused briefly just in case she had something to say. She didn't, of course. "So I was wondering if I could have that tuition money now. I would really like it if I could take off tomorrow, if you don't mind. School starts soon and I have to get myself settled."
There was a long stretch of silence as I watched her fidget with the table cloth. I sighed, leaning back against my chair, letting my head fall back so my stare was focused only on the ceiling. My hair almost touched the floor.
"College?" She whispered hesitantly. My head whipped forward to meet her glance before I could control it, but I caught myself quickly and looked at the table, careful not to scare her again. I nodded, knowing she could see it. Out of my peripheral vision, I saw her shake her head. "I don't think you're ready for that…Anna. You just got out of…of…You've been through a lot lately, don't you think you should just let yourself relax for a while?" Her voice was quiet and cautious, and it made me angry. Really, really angry.
My teeth clicked together noticeably and the chair flew back into the wall with a loud screech as I pushed away from the table. Every ounce of strength that I'd been trying to build over this past year so that I could face her, so that I could be normal again…all of it flew out the window the second she spoke the words. I lost it. My hand shot out in front of me, my pointer finger swinging wildly in her face. My voice was loud, ear shattering. She stared at me with incredulous, petrified eyes as I screamed at her.
"Been through a lot lately?!" I shouted. "You mean that shit that you put me through!? How about you calling a freaking insane asylum and drugging me so that they could take me away!! You think I can relax when you're anywhere near me? Seriously?! Screw you, Mom! SCREW YOU."
My dad's hand found its way back to my shoulder, just like that first day they'd picked me up at the hospital. Only now, he was no longer pushing me in the direction of the exit. No, this time, he was holding me back, protecting his wife. Like I'd kill her if he didn't hold me in place. This made me angrier, but I tried hard not to show it. I channeled every bit of control I had, taking my anger out on my destroyed tongue. I chomped down hard, felt the blood ooze down my throat. I kept my teeth sealed together so I wouldn't puke it back up. I was shaking hard.
I saw my father look pointedly at the telephone on the wall. My mother seemed to take a silent breath, inching closer to it. I knew what was happening, understood the inaudible conversation they'd just shared with their eyes. I wouldn't let it happen. I couldn't let them take me back. I wasn't crazy, just mad. Tears filled my eyes.
"No!" I begged them. They both froze, staring at me warily. "No, please don't take me back there. I swear, I'm not insane! I'm just angry. I'm mad. Can you really not understand that? You locked me away in a crazy hospital!" I stopped suddenly, realizing that my little rant wasn't doing much for my case besides pointing me in the wrong direction, the direction of the hospital. I had to get a hold of myself. I had to calm down. I breathed deeply, trying to do that. "Please." I said again. "Please just let me go. I promise nothing will happen. Nothing bad. Just college. I just need to get away from all of this. Just let me start over and be normal. Please, I'm begging." And I was begging. My hands were practically sewn together in front of my pleading face. Tears streamed endlessly from my eyes. The blood seeping from my tongue was making it difficult to think, and I felt like I was going to pass out from the smell and taste of it.
In less than a second, my mother's hand was grasping the phone, staring at my father, waiting for his instructions. I felt sick, like I could puke out the entire year and a half and be rid of the life-altering disease she'd struck me with. I could hear the words coming from my father's mouth before his lips even parted. Telling her to call the hospital, get my room ready. I could see in my mind my flailing arms as he dragged me out to the car, trapped me in the backseat as my mother drove like lightning to that horrible place. I imagined sitting in the corner, covered in white. I'd rather have been dead. I couldn't stand to hear these thoughts spill from his mouth.
But his real words surprised me.
"Let her go." He whispered. "She's right. She deserves this. I think the only thing to do now is to forgive" He paused to squeeze my shoulders, accentuating the word. I clenched my jaw against the continuous flow of blood. "and forget. We all need to move on now." His words were not all that surprised me, but also, his tone was quite astonishing. He actually sounded normal, like a normal dad with a normal kid that he loved. Who'd have thought that my father would turn out to be the one parent who cared? I shook my head, bewildered.
My mom was just as stunned. She stood there, her fingers loose around the white phone, mouth ajar. She didn't even blink. She just stared at my father. He smiled tightly at her, nodding slowly. He squeezed my shoulders again.
"Get your purse out, honey." He said to her. Then he turned to me. "You, go pack your bags. You're going to Washington."