Armistice.

Armistice - Initiation.

Readers

If you believe in this story even an ounce,    

thanks.

------------------------------

1.00  Tacem  (tay-sihm) 

It's Tacem's 15th birthday today, but she doesn't care. She had to be reminded by her mother. Her mother; Charlotte. Charlotte doesn't like things being out of order, and she's incessantly paranoid. She ducks cover for things already on the ground. Things never seem as they really are to her. She was diagnosed with PTSD early last year, although Adam or even a stranger could infer. PSTD diagnoses were being handed out like Lady Gaga tickets after the Ornity War. You could tell something was wrong with your loved one the moment they stepped off that plane into the airport.

But a doctor just had that authority feel.

The diagnosis was in nothing close to a mild form. It had been pretty recognizable since Tacem was 3, and when she was finally discharged from the Army, & the diagnosis was officially validated, Adam cried. Tacem had come home that Tuesday afternoon to find him staring blankly at the wall, in his favorite plum colored recliner.

It went out with the garbage the next week.

Frightening it was because before then, no one has actually seen him shed any physical emotion. He doesn't cry, and he's the one to assure that everything will be alright. 

"I'm the rock this house is built upon. So when I say things will be fine, things will be fine." He reminds them when the going gets rough. He'd said that when Tacem burned the very flesh off her right foot, and when she brought home her first F home in math; which is arguably her best subject.  Adam didn't say that when grandma's house got ransacked,  but he was thinking it. 

The problem is Adam knows Tacem is part of what drove Charlotte past the tipping point... 

It started getting worse in 6th grade. 

Everyone knows it, even the trees know it, but it's unspoken.

Her guardians'  idiosyncrasies don't bother Tacem anymore though. She respects the fact that their family is different. They need to stick together, that's the way it's always been. You're only as strong as your weakest link, and after all this is mainly her fault. Who is she to judge anyhow; being far from conforming. It is quite simple; do what's asked, when it's asked, and cope with the situation.

Above all...

cope. 

***

There's a party of various people in her foyer. This overflow of people, waiting for her to join and sweep down the brown stained staircase, to initiate the start of the festivities. Her heart isn't catapulting out of her chest. No, adrenaline has yet to arrive. Her pacemaker is stable, for she doesn't care. She knows today isn't her birthday.

Her birthday is May 19th.

Today is Sept. 4th...

What ever happens on Sept 4th?

The lights go off. Tacem feels unaware of her emotions at this point.  She takes a deep breath and switches on her lighter. It always calms her down. Just the very aroma can bring her heavy eyelids to attend a peaceful reunion. Secondary colors of chesnut and scarlet sway about and the light vanishes as quickly as it entered. The black cap shuts and Tacem shoves it into her droopy pocket.

This is ridiculous, and she's aware, but she plays strongly along and steps out of her bathroom beginning the decline, gripping the banister. Maybe it's better this way.