Behind Unwritten Eyes

Chapter Twelve

I open my eyes to see someone hovering over me. My mom hovering over me actually. I swear, this woman will not give up.

"What the hell are these?" She snaps as soon as she realizes my eyes are open.

I look at what she's gesturing to and see that she was holding 13 little squares in her hand, each one with neat handwriting on the back.

My jaw drops as I realize what they are. I instantly lunge for the photos but she retracts her hand, holding it as far away as possible.

"Why where you even under my bed?"

"For your safety Annika! You expect me to believe you are safe? When your obviously not right."

I scrunch up my face and ball up my fists.

"I'm not right? I'm, not right!? How could you even say something like that to me? When your obviously this neurotic mess that can't get her shit together! You have no right!"

"Annika, why do you have these hidden under your bed? There not even inside the frames!"

"So what if they're not?? They're not even yours!"

"But they're my memories!"

"Then why are your memories in my room!? So you can just forget about me!"

I can see my words hit her hands and it takes her a few moments to even bring her eyes back up to me. However when her eyes do meet mine, I have to take note of the permanent frown in them, and the tears that were threatening to spill.

"Yes Annika. That is exactly why. When you were put into my arms that day, I should've said no."

She storms out of the basement, dropping the pictures before she reaches the door. I listen to her stomp all around the house above me, and then a door slams.

I sit up and roll my eyes. Obviously today isn't going to be one of her good days.

I stand up stretching my legs a little before taking a few careful steps towards the door. The light was off so it was hard for me to see more than a foot in front of me and I didn't want to step on my precious photographs.

I successfully make it to the light-switch without stepping on anything. I watch as light aluminates the small space. For the first time I take a moment to check my surroundings.

There was a small beaten up couch in the corner, the one that I had just been on. The material, which had once been white, but was now gray with age, was torn apart at the arms and one of the cushions was popped open. I shake my head at it realizing that it's condition was probably the reason it's down here.

I note that there's an old fashioned Tv pushed up against the wall, it's antennas sticking up in awkward angles. I laugh at the poor sight, and turn my head away in pity.

There really isn't anything else besides the drab carpet that lay across the center of the room. I slowly make circles around it and then plop down, gathering the pictures into my hands, and stacking them up neatly.

"10....11....12...,"

It takes me a minute but I realize that I'm a single picture short and panic just a tad. Mutely I drop to the ground, place the stack onto the couch and swipe my hands across the wooden flooring. I crawl across the span of the room and search under the couch, hesitantly sticking my hands underneath. All I feel is handfuls of dust. This goes on for another few seconds before my hand passes across something on the floor.

I knit my eyebrows together and squint my eyes trying to see what I had crossed over.

"What the h*ll?"