Watching Through My Fingers

Part 2

Once the door closes behind me, I glance around taking in the restaurants ambiance and busy seating. A few tables are left but there's one near the band's, but not too close or noticeable that someone would have to see me. I look around wandering if I should plan to make my move soon, after all these months, or lie low a little longer.

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"I don't know. They're arguing," I responded to Aaron.

I stood on my tip toes trying to get a better view. I saw my mother begin slapping and I could hear her screaming horrible things to Cara.

It was nothing different than what Aaron or I get and it was normal... normal for us. It was still horrible. Usually she'd just storm off after what we called her "overreactions."

I saw Cara lifting her arms over her face but Mom grabbed her by her hair and began hitting her head against the counter top. I could hear Cara scream and I began yelling at Aaron to try to break down the door. As our mother continued to scream and slam Cara's head into the counter, I looked for anything I could use to break the window but I found nothing and just did my best to punch a hole through the glass. I could hear Aaron trying to body slam the door but by the time I had broken the window and tried pulling myself up I knew it was too late.

I watched Cara's murder and as I looked at my only sister's slumped, lifeless body on the ground, I lifted my bloody glass-cut fingers over my face, trying to brush the tears away, but just smearing my own blood on my face. I looked up at my mother. In her eyes I saw anger and wrath I'd never seen so forceful or strong. I had only seen glimpses of this evil. Then she cocked her head as Eric kept asking and begging me to tell him what was going on.

"No, No, No." Aaron kept saying in the back ground as he looked at me for a denial.

"No one is taking you two away from me! No one," Mum hissed.

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I tap my fingers, marked by the scars from a broken window, against the table top as I watch Dan. Their food has just arrived and three of the guys, Dan, Kyle, and Will, look like they're about to bust with anticipation. Loud talking fills their area of the restaurant and merry eating begins.

My train of thought and vision are broken by the server bringing my own food. I survey the salad and impale a cherry tomato using the fork. Tomato seeds squirt several feet away onto the floor, unbeknownst to anyone. I calm my nerves and look back at Dan who still hasn't seemed to notice me. He smiles and snorts before bending over in some sort of laughter that I've only ever observed in him. He looks up and our eyes meet. He smiles and looks back at his party of seven or so.

There is no recognition. There is no remorse or guilt. There is no pain. No discomfort. No uneasiness. He's moved on and he doesn't care whose life he's left in ruins.

I am not a crazed fan.

I am not a long-lost childhood friend.

I am not some random person off the street.

If Trish Ashley is none of these things, then who is she? In time you'll see who I am. I told you where this started... Now I'm going to tell you how it's progressed and where it will end.