Lights

Lights 7 ☼

No, I can't just tell everything to this guy I've known less than a week. Just because he acts like he cares doesn't mean he isn't going to run off and tell everyone-- Mr. Walden proved that to me. I looked at Austin and in return he looked at me expectantly, I'd been silently thinking for too long and he definitely knew something was wrong. His question had already been answered, but I decided to tell him something just to get him off of my back.

"No, I'm fine. Don't worry." I requested, pulling the door opening and walking out, seeing the image of Austin coming after me out of the corner of my eye. I could hear him say something right before I left the house, something sounding extremely similar to 'Don't leave', and my stomach flipped just at the thought of him wanting me to stay. I gave myself a slap on the wrist, telling myself not to start crushing on the stranger boy who cares all of a sudden. You have bigger problems-- don't get off course.

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 I crept into my house and down the stairs, not bothering to check what room my mother was in. Opening the door to my room, I saw a small dent in the wall by my door, probably from where the side of my head hit when I fell last night. Dropping my bag against my bed, I flopped on my bed and shoved my face into the old pillow that's aways in the same place, and the self pity settled in again.

Why me? What did I do to deserve this? How am I ever going to get out of this now? What do I do and where do I turn when everything goes from bad to worse? The same old questions swam through my head over and over again until a new one found its way in. What am I going to tell Austin?

Nothing, I decided. He can ask as many questions as he wants, he won't get anything out of me. The only reason Leah knows is because she's been my best friend since the 2nd grade, stood by my side and helped me out no matter what. Mr. Walden only knows because he figured it out, and he told pretty much every faculty member with a pair of ears.

Neither of them really know the half of it, though.

Holding my breath, I shoved my face deeper into my pillow and let out a long shrieking scream, muffled by the stuffing of the pillow. I rolled over and sighed before staring at the ceiling for a while, studying the cracks and cobwebs in every corner.

"You're crazy," I whispered, to myself and nobody else.

"You're crazy for staying here," I closed my eyes and with every exhale let out another insult.

"You're crazy for hurting her like this, crazy for putting her through this when it could all be over with a single phone call." I admitted, my vision blurring over the sight of dangling spiders. I bet they don't feel guilty every second of the day for sucking the life out of innocent insects. Hell, that's practically the equivalent of me torturing my mother day after day until she's resorted to hiding in the corners of the house. Now that I think of it, I must have that number somewhere...

Sitting upright in bed, I stood up and headed over to my dresser before shuffling through a stack of opened envelopes, each with the same return address. I pulled out a note, one much like the others tucked behind checks when the time came around. The notes were in fact, so similar I'd starting to think he'd simply gotten a stamp made to save time. The notes always read something along the lines of:

Olivia,

         The money I owe you is all right here, if anything is out of the ordinary, call me and I can fix it immediately.

                                                                    --Walter 

Of course, nothing had ever been out of the ordinary before, but the numbers were listed below just like they always were, his work phone, personal phone, house phone, etc. Just looking at my mother's name in print always struck a nerve, and the spaces behind my eyes started to ache, but I held it in. Obviously, my father didn't know of the situation at hand, and every time he sent a check, he thought he was sending it to my mother. I read off the number before going over to my bag and getting the cell phone out of the bottom of it.

I quickly dialed the number and nerously held the phone to my ear. This could save her, save me, save everything and put it back together. Maybe he could do something to help, do something that would make her remember. On the other hand, I thought as the insisntent ringing filled only one of my ears, he might not be anymore helpful in getting her to remember than I was, she might not even recognize him simply because as far as I knew, they hadn't seen eachother in 16 years. The ringing continued and I tapped one foot incessantly.

Maybe he couldn't do much of anything but put her in a home and pay off the leftover bills. I doubted he would understand when I flat out told him that his ex-wife had gone mad with paranoia at the thought of her daughter's duplicate coming to get her. Maybe I could hang up now and avoid making any mistakes--

"Hello?" The deep, burly voice of a man I didn't know answered the phone.

"Uh.. I- Um," I stuttered nervously, both hands shaking no matter how hard I tried to contain myself.

"Hello?" He asked again, sounding clearly more confused this time. Struggling to gain control over my hands, I quickly pressed the end call button and sighed in relief when the dial tone came through.

So maybe that didn't go as planned, but it was for the best.