When the Lights Go Out {complete first draft}

Day Four - Someone Said Party?

Early hours of Friday’s are the party time to let loose.

 

The phone rang, but it didn’t wake me up. I was already awake, long before Vincent rang my phone. I’d woken up, choking on nothing. Sweat was pouring from me as images from the American diner came back to me. I’d seen Luke, although I wanted to forget about him already, and I’d gone to leave, just as someone carelessly stabbed me with a knife. If this were the real world, and not a state of limbo, Luke would be under fire from protestors, and health inspectors, to shut that place down. It’s a shame that wasn’t really the case, though; I would have liked to have seen him suffer.

                  If I was suffering, I wanted him to suffer, too. I remember the door swinging open, and someone screaming right after it happened, but I didn’t know if it was Imogen, Lydia or just someone else for that matter. I’d died yesterday in the arms of someone who ruined my life. Wasn’t there a better way I could go, than that?

                  Suddenly, the door opened and Kendal walked in. She had a cardigan wrapped around her frame, covering her pyjamas. I glanced up at her silhouette in the dark and then turned on the light beside my bed. She blinked, not used to the light, as she let her eyes adjust.

                  “Hey,” I said. “Did my phone wake you up?” I hoped not, because Vincent only rang for a moment, before I quickly hit the hang up button.

                  “It’s alright.”

                  So it had woken her up. I sat up in bed and patted beside me, instructing her to sit down. She came towards me, and got under the covers. Her skin was cold, and sent shivers up my spine. I looked at her long hair and smiled, playing with a strand. Like Imogen and I used to do when we were younger at sleepovers, I grabbed Kendal’s hand and squeezed it. “Try and go back to sleep.”

                  “What about you?” Kendal asked, looking around my room. Her eyes landed on my collage of photographs that was near my desk. I followed her gaze, and suddenly saw the photograph of my mom, Kendal and myself, opening presents. A glass of wine sat on a side table near my mom. Luke. Luke took the photograph. Fresh anger boiled inside of me. I whipped off the covers and leaped towards my photos, tearing it down in one clean sweep. I shoved it in the bin and turned back towards my sister.

                  “What did you do that for?”

                  It doesn’t matter; it wouldn’t matter even if I told you. You already know what happened between our parents and Luke, because in a moment of rage, I’d told you and ruining your perfect perception of our mother. You forgave her easier than I did, though. Good, because she’ll need you right now and you’ll need her. I thought to myself. I went to visit dad, after I found out, and you begged to come with me but I said no. For a while, he was sad that he’d left us kids behind, too, but then he grew bitter, too, and I love him but he isn’t the same man anymore. He’s still my father, I still love him, but I don’t miss him as much as I used to. We had mom, and I forgave her because she was a saint for what she did for us. She loves us, and tries her hardest with everything – please remember that, Kendal, always. Anyway, I read once that there isn’t enough time to look back, we only have just enough time to look at what is right in front of us. And I guess, in a way, that’s something I should learn to do. If only I could.

                  “Marisol,” my sister said again, pulling me from my thoughts, “what did you do that for?”

                  “It was tired from the sun—”