Swish

.20

The nightmare shook me awake, and the accompanying scream would've been enough to do the same with the rest of the house, but if they showed any concern for my wellbeing, they didn't come by my room to check on me. 

They'd probably had enough of my mental breakdown drama the weekend before and didn't want another front row ticket to my falling apart once more.  It would be like the first time, when they did absolutely nothing to help me and only made it worse, just like they did with everything. 

I really did have a terrible family, didn't I? 

What had gone so wrong?  Was it that bad even before my mom's death, and I'd just blinded myself to the fact because I was so young?  Twelve years old, and it was like I'd blocked out all the terrible memories before the worst night of my life...

The very same night that I couldn't stop remembering in my dreams that ended up more like night terrors.  They sure terrorized, alright. 

My room reeked of empty bitterness, what from the missing music and recording equipment and my salty tears that I could still taste at the back of my throat, the thickness welling up just like it had before I'd cried myself to sleep. 

Dressing for the day and performing my usual hygiene routine because we had more than one houseguest that I didn't feel like greeting with morning breath, ragged hair and bloodshot eyes, I was ready to face the music, literally and figuratively, though one look in the mirror and the signs from my restless night were on display on my face. 

My eyes looked like I'd just smoked an entire blunt, streaks of red darting through the whites and disappearing into the deep brown of my irises, and thick bags accompanied the underneath of said bloodshot eyes, and no matter how much concealer was applied, there was still that slight blue-purple tinge to that sensitive skin. 

I didn't know where the courage to even get up out of bed and trudge down the stairs came from, let alone the strength to put myself together and force myself to look like an actual human instead of sleep deprived and haunted zombie, but soon I found myself seated at the bar, slurping down mouthfuls of sugar coated flakes cereal and contemplating ever being born. 

I mean, who gave my dad permission to procreate, anyway?  

"You're up early."

"Kara.  I could say the same for you as well."

Soft rays of muted gray tinged sunlight pierced the space around us, almost creating a barrier of light between us while my aunt contemplated breaking the silent boundary in order to reach the kitchen cabinets. 

"I always come down early to prepare your father's medications for the day.  I didn't hear you come in last night, must've been late?"

Like it was any of her damn business.

"Yes, I did get in fairly late.  I was at a party."

"Hmm."

The noise she had made from the back of her throat dripped with distaste, but when was that any different from any other day? 

My aunt had always been cold and distant, closed off and emotionally unavailable.  She was the night to my Mother's Day, the dark to her light, the sharp edged to my mother's soft curves.  They couldn't have been any different, and their relationship suffered because of it. 

Where Kara was off traveling with her nursing degree and living it up in every city she could think of to get away, my mother had already settled down and was making a home for us.  That all changed after her death, however, and Kara committed herself to taking care of my father.  Me?  I wasn't so sure she knew what to do with me, and left Sara to befriend me instead.