Tomorrow

"Tomorrow" Sequel to: "The Day"

By Daniela Rubio

            My mother always told me that she'd protect me. I used to grow up with this fantasy that I would grow up, go to college, get married to a man that was as least half as good as my father, and then have children of my own. The perfect life. But fate had other plans for me.

            I was put into an orphanage at the age of seven.

            I don't blame my parents. I don't. At least, that's what I tell myself. They were mentally ill. They were unstable. It was a matter of time before they hurt someone or themselves.

            But now, ten years after the accident that caused both of my parents to nearly drown to death, I can't imagine either of them being anything but what they are now. Catatonic, tortured souls who can't stand to stay awake for more than a few hours.

            It's hard to try to be a good person. To go and see them and at least attempt to establish a relationship. But with my mother, it's like talking to a wall. And with my father, it's quite the opposite. He reads into everything you say, finding something wrong with every word. You can never win an argument.

            Their psychiatric nurse is the one who urges me. "Holly, Hailee really wants to talk to you. I see her struggle to try to form the words, but she can't. And Alex is just paranoid. Even to his own children, if we can convince him that you are his daughter, for the day."

            That's another thing. Both my parents suffer from crippling dementia. At first, it was thought to be present only in my mother, as when she was fished out of the bottom of that lake, blue and lifeless, so was her diary. She talked about being stuck in a parallel universe after she was shot, along with her best friend, Brent. There was no record of her or Brent being shot. It's believed that she completely lost her mind after he died, at least that was her parent's theory.

            That or she was doing some sort of undetectable drug.

            But I don't believe that. There was something gravely wrong with my mother as early as my first memories. I remember being four and wondering why her smile never quite reached her eyes, or why she would focus on the strangest things in the middle of a conversation.

            What about my father, then? I always thought that watching her getting driven to insanity by the loss of her best friend was what caused him to lose his grip on reality.

            That book, though. After an investigation was done on my parents, and my brother Nick and I were forced into an orphanage, I was allowed to keep some of my parent's precious belongings to 'help me cope.'

            Both of my parent's wedding rings.  A picture that my mother had of her and this mysterious guy who I always thought to be Brent. She wouldn't answer me when I  pointed to him in the picture. Her eyes just glazed over and her lips quivered ever so slightly. Whenever I asked my father, he'd refuse to look at me or even talk to me. It was as if I showed him the person that killed his whole entire family.

            The last thing was my mother's book.

            My brother and I spent many sleepless nights reading that thing, as I was only used to reading small children's books. He read it aloud to me, and when we finished, I felt as if I had the maturity of a middle-aged woman - even though I was only seven. Nick was never the same after he read that. He got this permanently cloudy look in his eye, and his mouth always seemed to be turned downwards into a frown. We both had to continue with school, keeping up the appearance that we were fine, even though everyone knew what had happened. It was a town scandal.

            Nick and I were stuck in that orphanage for a year. No one wanted us. Who'd want kids whose parents tried to kill themselves? Once the people who were interested found out why we were there, they'd smile sadly and leave. Everyone thought my mother was a psychopath, thanks to the news. They portrayed her that way for the media.

            Since Nick was sixteen when the accident happened, he only had to wait a year so he could be emancipated. Late at night, after we'd finish a chapter of my mom's diary, I cried about how I missed mommy and daddy and couldn't wait to see them again, he would hold me in his lap and hold me until I fell asleep. He always promised tomorrow would be better. It had to be. We had to hold on to the hope that the bad day is going to end when the sun rises. He always told me that. And I loved my brother. I really did.

            So, when he got emancipated, I knew he would come back to me. After he signed the papers and waited outside the building we lived in, he crouched down and promised that he would come back and adopt me himself after he got an apartment and a job. Then he kissed me on the cheek and left.

            That was the last time I saw him.

            I was young. I was naive. As soon as I got home from school, I'd do my homework and then go sit by the window seat that overlooked the busy street below with my mother's book. Years passed. I read that book from cover to cover at least twenty times. Brent's death hit me with the same force every time. The nice ladies that were in charge of the orphanage saw me crying and thought it was because I missed my brother. They assured me he'd be back for me soon.

            But they were wrong. By the time I was thirteen, I realized that my brother did the unspeakable. He deserted me. Just like our parents did.

            I turned bitter. So bitter that no one would even talk to me, because I would snap at anyone for anything. I couldn't trust. Love. Smile. Everyone that I ever depended on left me out in the rain like a piece of trash. I started to believe that I was a piece of trash myself. I stopped reading my mother's diary after a while, as the memories of my brother reading it to me were too strong.

            Everyone knew me as the angry hermit. I made no attempt at making friends, and after a while people stopped. They realized that I would rather be alone.

            I didn't even care, but when I was fifteen I was adopted by a nice couple with a soft spot for things that needed repairing. They tried to get to me, they did. And I tried to be good for them. But it was impossible. My depression had taken a deep root in me, and I doubted that it would leave without taking a big part of me too.

            The couple that adopted me, Mr. and Mrs. Brandy, tried to get me help. They had me see a psychologist, but I thought that was stupid so I didn't cooperate. I mean, I would have if the sessions would have had a point. But Dr. Chen only sat down in front of me, adjusted his glasses and asked me pointless questions, like how I feel about the weather.

            Eventually I became mute. It wasn't physical, but mental. I had retreated so deeply into myself that I could no longer make contact with the outside world. I was turning into my mother.

            When I turned seventeen, I emancipated myself. Mr. and Mrs. Brandy still gave me money to pay rent - they supported me that much - but I could pretty much take care of myself. After I graduated high school, I started going to UCLA, where my quietness was seen as studious instead of weird.

            I started reading my mother's diary again.

            It was weird, when I was younger, I only saw it as a sad story. But at seventeen, I could truly understand her pain. Her guilt. How she felt when she left someone she loved behind, only to lose them. That's why I decided to visit my parents at the mental institute months ago.

            At first, they refused to see me. My mother, only shaking at the sight of me, and my father refusing to believe that I was his daughter. The psychiatrist that treated them started treating me, and I started talking again. I smiled sometimes. I felt better. I really did. That's what I told myself, anyway.

            But for some reason, late at night, when I see monsters coming out of their shadows to kill me, I can't think of a reason to run.

**A/N** How'd ya'll like it? I decided to post it early, as I couldn't bring myself to have ya'll wait any longer. Tell me about any mistakes and make sure to spread the word. :)