Again

Prologue

So much darkness. Blood. A song. I turn, running with tears running down my face. I can't. I'm not strong enough. I can't face this! I scream, hearing glass shatter around me as pain pierces my body. Just make this stop. Please.

I open my eyes, shooting up in bed and holding onto my ears. "Shhhh," I hear as warmth envelopes me. "You are safe. It wasn't real. Shhhh."

I cling to, Attagracia, the woman who I have known for the past five years. I let out a loud sob, holding my eyes closed. I'm not safe. No one is safe when I am involved. I pull away once I have regained enough if my composure and pull my knees up to my chest. "Do you want to take the day off?" She asks, and I look out the window before shaking my head. "One who is strong does not use such weak methods of communication. Even when she feels weak, nína," she tells me, bringing my attention back to her as she moves a piece of hair behind my ear.

"I will complete my day as scheduled," I say, lowering my legs.

"Good girl," she says and takes my chin in between her fingers, raising it slightly. "Breakfast will be ready shortly. Get ready." And with that, she leaves. My caretaker for the past five years. She treats me like a warrior and not some silly teenage girl. Every time she speaks to me, it's like she's preparing me for battle.

I walk to the dresser and pull out a maroon long sleeve dress with small white flowers on it. I change, pulling my hair out of the ponytail I slept in, shaking my hair out and letting it fall in waves. I pull on a pair of white peep toe heels and take a seat at my vanity, applying a full face of makeup completed with a maroon and gold smoky eye and a nude liquid lip.

I stand back up and head downstairs, passing through the kitchen on my way to the garage. "No, sit down and eat something, Lilith," my caretaker yells, snapping her fingers.

I look at the table of foster kids who are all eating and take my place at the empty seat, taking some of the french toast off the serving platter along with some peaches and whipped vanilla coconut cream. I eat in silence, letting my thoughts being drowned out by the group of children talking loudly.

Once I finish, I help the kids clear off the table, and Nina, the twelve year old girl who is pretty new in the house, starts doing the dishes. "Don't worry about that. I'll get it later. We've got to get going," Attagracia says, grabbing her keys.

"Sia you have a doctor appointment at eight," I remind her before switching keys with her. "I got the kids. Get going before you're late."

"Gracias mi amour," she says before kissing my cheek and grabbing her purse.

Once she is gone, I get the kids into the mini-van. I drive us the twenty minutes to the elementary school and pull up to the office and letting the four youngest out, greeted by the vice-principle, "Josie, is Grace not doing well?"

"Attagracia has an appointment," I say, receiving a nod.

"Thank you for making sure they get in on time."

"I have to be here too, so I'm just doing my job," I say before she shuts the door with a soft chuckle, letting me drive pretty close to the middle school and dropping off all but one of the kids. Anna was pretty gifted in the book smarts category, so the school lets her take the highschool basic courses but still needs to go to the middle school for art and things like that.

I pull into the parking lot of the highschool and settle in the back row, hearing her groan. We both get out, and she goes running off into the building.

I walk through the parking lot and head to my Greek history class. "Lilith, can I have you hand these out," Mr Havok asks, hiding up a stack of papers while he goes over a different stack with a red pen. I take the papers and start to stick them on the desks, feeling his eyes on me. "You look nice today." I hear him say, "Are you ever going to tell me where that scar on your leg came from?"

No, it isn't a self inflicted scar. I can only imagine how much that would hurt if it was. A jagged scar that goes from the back of my ankle up to the middle of my thigh. "I'll tell you when I remember," I tell him, continuing to pass out the packets.

"I rarely see one showing off a scar like that these days," he says when I sit down the last packet.

I head back to his desk and lean against the wall, looking down at my leg, "I don't show it off. Not really anyway. I feel there is no reason to hate something that you needed to survive the emperience of to be who you are. To me, it's no different than my hair."

"Then why hide your arms?"

"You really are too observant for your good, arent you?" I ask, looking up at the ceiling.

"What is on your arms that you need to hide?"

I sigh and roll up my sleeves, exposing my completely standard looking arms, "It's not something physical. It's a preference of what I want to share, and my arms I hold differently than my legs."