Chương 3: Chapter Two : Dreams are Sharks, and Memory is a Monster

The entire family was waiting. Passing cars reflected on the window pane as the street filled up with cars, just like fireflies coming to life. Since the jig was up, I let the door close on its own and locked only the bottom lock. Fishbones stick out of my throat as I swallow around the feeling and school my face into something that didn't reflect my surprise. On the couch in the living room with the lights off, familiar faces, but could I say I knew them? Not really.

Roommates are just people living down the hall, and in that case, I don't actually live with them. Just share a house.

"I guess it's true," Emery observes me coolly from her awkward spot between her mother and father. Everett looks down on me as his eyes catch the light like stained glass, undisguised disdain and satisfaction at being right staring back at me. Adjusting the straps on my bag, I leaned on the door behind me and rested my head against the cold door. He finally couldn't take it.

"Don't you have anything to say?"

"Good night." I started towards the staircase, and the atmosphere stilled. Stunned at my audacity, he angrily laughed to himself.

"Don't even think about it. Stop! I'm talking to you! Where have you been?" I ignored his calls and strode right past the staircase. A demanding hand flew out and grabbed my wrist. My bookbag slid down my arm, and I glared at the offending hand preventing me from leaving. Barrett. His uncompromising but distant gaze locked me in place. She jumped up from the couch and raised her voice, righteous fury reaching into the street.

"Good night? Good night?! Do you have any idea how worried we've been?" Wendy's piercing eyes and lack of tears betrayed the distraught look she was trying to form. Deep in her eyes, I saw the stained glass she'd passed down to her children.

"You know what? Give me your phone. I need to see everything since you think you're so grown already. Fifteen coming home at one in the morning! What am I going to tell..." She stops short, but I know what she was about to say. What am I going to tell your mother? Lucky for her. She doesn't have to tell her anything. Not anymore. I tugged my hand, and Barrett glanced down, unaware he'd never let go during that entire instance.

His nostrils flared, and he released me immediately as the prolonged contact had burned him. Using that same aching wrist, I pulled the cracked flip phone she'd given me as a birthday present last year out of my pocket and tossed it on the coffee table.

"Help yourself." God, I hate the way you look at me. That wronged I-can't-help-you look that you put on, I'd much prefer the one you put on when we're alone. Charged glances passed between the few of them as she snatched it off the table and went through it. Flustered at the buttons at first, she pressed down a little too hard, and a small piece of tape fell off the side. When she finally got the hang of it, she asked.

"Who's Church?"

"The church. It's their number. You can call."

"Who's Work?" The only other number in that phone. My fingernails pressed deep into my palms, and I answered after a moment of deliberation.

"My job."

"..." Emery blurted out first, breaking the silence.

"You're what?" I didn't repeat myself. And I didn't have to. My father, who usually brushed matters aside with the wave of his hand, stood up and looked at me. Betrayed.

"When did I ever allow you..."

"Wendy did."

"Who are you talking to?"

"Okay. Mom did." She gaped, ready to tell me to take it back that instant.

"No, I didn't. And that's not what you call me." Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

"Exactly. You're not my mother, you're my landlord. Where do you think rent comes from?" Her eyes flashed as she suddenly remembered the conversation that led me to get a job half a year ago. One she'd conveniently forgotten. Noticing the lull in her response, Dad turned to his wife, who'd short-circuited for a moment in her haste.

"What is she talking about?"

"No. I-I..." Before she could attempt to lie, I sought to cut this short.

"I have receipts of the checks I've been cashing into your account, and the little blue slip of authorization has your signature. I'm tired. I believe this is something you'll discuss yourselves, so..." I turned again to the staircase. Barrett finally clued in to what had happened and turned to face me fully.

"Why do you work so late, and how have you been getting there? What do you do?" I snipped, eager to nip this in the bud and go to bed.

"None of your business." Everett rounded the couch at some point and reprimanded me with his arms crossed.

"Answer him when he talks to you." Barrett grabbed my arm again, and I winced at the tingly feeling of a bruise forming.

"Where?" Rolling my eyes, I stared at the wall as I zoned out of the argument and drifted to my room mentally. Planning how I'll hook my jacket on the door, drop my bag on the floor, kick off my shoes, and curl into bed just like that. My clothes retaining heat from my walk, the lights off, and my hair exuding the cold fragrance of smoke.

"You can't collect rent from my daughter! Grace is fifteen! Fifteen! What were you thinking?"

"I barely remember what she was talking about! I wasn't–It was just something in the heat of the moment, I never expected her to take it seriously." My dad had had enough of the excuses and turned to me.

"Grace! Barrett, what are you doing?" He shook off the tug of war ensuing and asked me.

"How long?"

"..."

"Grace. Answer me."

"...." Aghast at how I refused to cooperate with the interrogation and how tightly I guarded my information, he marched over and spoke directly in my ears. Shouting at me as all the voices collided. Emery calming her hysterical mother, Everett demanding answers along with his father, and Barrett staring at me silently. Stained glass eyes roving around. It's too hard to describe what went through my mind as I tried to tune it all out. I just knew it felt colder than it should.

"Walking home at midnight! Why didn't you ask someone?" He bellowed.

"Who?" Stunned at my sudden lift on the lock holding my face together. I asked him with real expectation.

"Who? Ask who?" Dad flaps his arms to the entire motley crew, "Your sister could drive you, I could drive, anyone in this household could have helped you. Never mind that. How could you just leave? What time did you come home today?"

"I didn't." His eyebrows skyrocket and I take a deep breath before launching into the inevitable conversation.

"I don't come back from school until around this time every day. Then I go to sleep, and in six hours I wake up to get ready for school. I leave this house at half past seven and take a short forty-five-minute walk that I've been taking for the past three years."

"..." So much is loaded in my simple statement, and I say with finality.

"I'm tired." Dull jaded orbs gave him my full attention. I don't know what he saw but he took one look and he averted his gaze.

"Don't look at me like that." I stopped looking at my father altogether and slammed my foot down on Barrett's. He jumped a little in his seat, and I sped past him. Dad bellowed from downstairs as I held the railing and trudged up the steps.

"You're coming straight home after school tomorrow. We're going to talk about this!" Even from far away I could tell what look was on his marred with fine lines face. How he hid away once it was all said and done. How in a split second he became dead to the world and holed up in the study, not talking for hours. Somehow that's my fault. Wendy is sobbing as she recounts all she's done for me and glosses over everything she's done too me. That's my fault too I grumbled internally.

It doesn't stop until I get upstairs. God throws me a bone as I extend the ladder without any troublesome squeaks and climb into the attic. Spacious but scarcely decorated. Hand me down's hanging from racks as I try to hang my coat up on the door, but realize I'm not in my old room anymore.

"This is better than a door though." I don't even think they know I live here. Would it even matter? Just as I'd visualized, I repeat the process of putting my effects away and slipping onto my mattress. Curling underneath the several comforters and shivering as I drifted off the moment my head hit the aged cotton and frayed fibers. Sometimes I feel like someone is peering at me through rose-tinted glasses. The nightmare haunting my sleep creeps into existence unbeknownst to me.

That day of course, I had to inform my boss I was not coming in for my shift. That's sixty dollars less in my pocket but maybe I can negotiate rent with her. A little social pressure might do the trick. The sky has officially turned into a mirror for the few visible stars that the city's smog would allow you to gaze upon. This street. Hell, this entire neighborhood is a graveyard after four. Can't be helped. It doesn't have the best security or amenities, but it's the closest high school within walking distance.

Like, I would even have a chance of picking something I wanted. At least we all have to go here, the twins are on the verge of graduating and in a few months I'll start my next year. Rocking on my heels a bit, I turn to walk up and down the metal fence guarding the lawn leading up to the blue metal doors.

"He's not coming." Tickling hair raises on the back of my neck, and I turn my head to peer out. What was that? Scratching the inside of my wrist I backed towards the fence a little. No one is following me. Just paranoid. Just—"Who-" A hand wraps around my mouth, and I'm dragged into the darkness. Frightened, harrowing high-pitched screams bounce off the walls, and Helen startles awake, whipping her head to the room. Hurried footsteps and hushed murmurs harshly collide with the cries.

Her stance relaxes, but she can't help looking behind her now and then. Wondering just what makes her scream like that? Who knows? She dragged her gaze away to the empty hallway. What could come from the recesses of a babe's mind? Stained glass eyes stared up at the sky as the soothing hands on her head drifted from her crown down to her chin and back up again. Plentiful circles of well-wishes and a soft lullaby from her throat drowned the wails.

Gasping for breath in between as her clothes stuck to her fevered skin.

"It's okay... It's okay... You just reach, and I'm right here. Right here." The soothing voice doesn't end and the nightmare bleeds under its touch. All the horror draining away, as shooting stars crossed the sky.