The Final Seven

Prologue

June 18th, 2014 - 3:00 A.M.

My blurred vision slowly clears, and I am able to see the bizarre scene in front of me.  There are police vehicles parked outside the front of my house, blocking the side of the road.  My name is Jessica Reynolds and the last thing I remember is falling asleep last night.  And now, I’m awake and standing in my yard, trying to focus myself back into reality.  I stare at the police officers moving in and out of my house.

Could I have been sleepwalking all the way outside?  Lately, my mind has been filled with stress and worry, so I’ve been taking medication to help me sleep.  Perhaps this grogginess I feel is just the aftereffect of the medication. 

Stress and worry.  In my mind, that’s putting in lightly.  Because I’m a teenager, most people believe I’m overreacting when I say my life can be unbearable.  The only thing I can tell them, without getting reprimanded, is that I’m a teenager living a grownup’s life.  I wasn’t prepared for the life I have been thrown into.

School is my only source of solace.  I try to be the best student at Collins Hill High School.  I get decent grades.  I’m a member of the cheerleading squad.  I get volunteer credits at the animal shelter.  I do everything an aspiring student looking toward the future should do.

But when I get home, things are different.  Mother has been sick for over a year now.  The doctors think she is unable to take care of herself, let alone her two daughters.  I make sure there is food on the table, while Mother stares at the TV.  I make sure my twelve year old sister gets on the bus for school every day, while Mother has her first glass of wine…even though it means I am late for my first class. 

Rather than reminiscing about my daily trials and tribulations, I need to focus on the current issues in front of me.  Why are the police at my home?  Have they been looking for me?  Why are the lights on the cars so bright?  They look like they are turning the night into day.  The blinking lights are so mesmerizing.  It feels like they are pulling me toward them.

“No!”  I shake myself from my delusions and walk toward my front door.  As I get closer, I can see my younger sister standing at the front door talking to a female police officer.  My sister is crying hysterically.  Her hair is tangled in knots from being awakened in the middle of the night.  Desperate to comfort her, my gut drops, and my heart yearns to hold her. 

“I’m here!”  I cry out to her.  The police officer ignores my cry and takes my sister by the hand.  She gently guides her to a nearby vehicle.  I try to run after her, but another officer steps in front of me to block my path.  When I finally get around the burly officer, I can see my sister being assisted into the back of the police car. 

Before the car pulls away, my sister turns around one last time toward the house and shakes her head.  I can see the tears still streaming down her young face.  I’m always used to seeing my sister light up a room when she smiles.     I used to be jealous of the attention she would get, but within the last year, I’ve come to understand why.  She has the ability to bring a comforting presence to even the most agonizing moments.  The effective innocence of her soul was contagious, like endearing laughter.

Her heartbreaking attitude only adds to my emotional turmoil.  I reach out my hand for her in a futile attempt to reach her as the car pulls away from the curb.  The knot in my stomach grows tighter and tighter, as the lights of the car shrink in the distance.

“Why did they take my sister?”  I think to myself.  “Oh my God.  Mother!”  She has been so weak lately that I worry for her.  The past seven days have been the worst.  She has been more depressed than usual, and continues to empty her precious bottles as if she will find the magical cure at the bottom.