Finding Alaska

5

Alaska

I choke my sobs down, burying my face into my mother. She holds me in her lap, urging my face into the crook of her neck. We're tucked away into the far corner of the guest bedroom's walk-in closet hiding behind hung up out of season clothing above us and stacks of bedding in front of us.

"Keep quiet for me, Alaska." Momma barely whispers. The door to the guest bedroom slams open, the vibration shooting through the walls. I jump slightly, so momma pulls me tighter to her and covers my mouth.

"Jenny," his sick voice rings through the air, "I know you're in here." He taunts. We sit in silence as he tears the bedroom apart looking for us.

"Hm," his hums clue us into the fact that he has strode into the closet. He heavily stomps back out of the closet and slams the bedroom door. Our bodies sag in relief in his absence. Then we hear nothing but complete silence.

"Peek-a-boo," Papa's haunting voice strikes fear into my heart, the blankets in front of us being ripped away. His cackles send chills through my body. His grip latches on Momma's shoulders, ripping the two of us out from our hiding spot while I scream.

"What a cruel, sick game," She sobs, to which he grins.

"Oh, I know, Jenny. Let's play, shall we?"

"Momma!" I screech as I'm ripped from her tight hold.

I shot up awake to find it morning. My breathing is ragged as I try the square breathing method Tobi taught me. I draw seven squares before I'm able to process the nightmare. Only, it wasn't just a nightmare. It happened. I gulp and wipe my tears away. I take a deep breath in, hold it, and let it out slowly before getting out of bed. Trauma can be hard to process when you don't remember anything until unwelcome memories jump out at you out of nowhere. I dress myself in the long-sleeved shirt and joggers Tobi gave me. I slung a bag of art supplies over my shoulder and left my room. I journey to the kitchen to meet Jude like I have every morning this week.

The kitchen was bustling with a lot of people. It looks like they're beginning to prepare a feast for breakfast. That's when I remember their mayor is coming back today. Jude was sitting at the large kitchen table with a cup of tea. The excitement in his eyes drained when they met mine. I'm not the best at hiding my feelings before I get a cup of coffee in me. I offer him a forced smile and walk to the coffee pot. I rummage through the cabinet and grab the largest mug I can find. If I could shoot the caffeine straight into my veins, I would. I settled for loading the mug with as much coffee it could hold and gestured for him to follow me outside. Jude grabs our blanket and a book for him on the way out the door and we sit in our usual spot. One of the things I love about Jude is that we are both comfortable with silence. We simply exist together without forcing unnecessary conversation. I truly treasure that.

Jude leans up against the tree, immediately consumed in his book. One thing I've learned about Jude is that when he's reading, absolutely nothing will break his gaze away from the literature. I gulp down my coffee until I'm sure the story has roped him in. I unroll his portrait and roll up my sleeves to start mixing paint. I began mixing the lighter colors for his hair, skin, and eyes. My arms are mostly covered in paint. At this point, you can clearly tell who I'm painting, but you can also tell I'm a little rusty.

As I'm adding the details into the wisps of his hair, I hear the sound of car doors shutting coming from the other side of the house. I didn't think much of it, adding as much depth as possible to my painting. With all the people that live here, it isn't uncommon for the sound of car doors to occur frequently. The sounds of Jude snapping his book shut caught my attention. My eyes don't meet his own, as his face is rather intense, looking off in the direction of the house.