Reminiscence {Book Two of the Vengeance Trilogy}

Chapter Three: Remember

It was as if time had slowed down to a crawl, almost coming to a complete stop. My mother sat on the sofa that was across from the one I sat upon. She was silent, tears streaming down her pale cheeks. My father stood close to her, but refused to comfort her. He was never the type to give off a comforting energy, but this was different. Aunt Aileen was dead. I expected something from him, anything, but my expectations were met with silence and cold air. Nothing was said, I felt nothing, I wanted nothing.

That wasn't true. I wanted my Aunt Aileen. I wanted to see her beaming smile sweeping in through the front door. I wanted to hear her laugh fill the room and make it feel warmer. I wanted to smell her perfume as I gave her a tight hug. She was the only person who made me feel less alone. There were times where I caught myself before calling her mom. Still, I knew that if I slipped up, she wouldn't say anything. She would just give me the same sad smile as she usually did when I talked about my parents or anything else that made my shitty life shittier. She was more of a mother than the woman sitting in front of me.

She was gone though. I would never hear her warming laugh, smell her perfume, or see her loving smile. Aunt Aileen was gone. I wanted to scream, but I knew that if I made any sounds my father would scold me and tell me not to overreact. He would say that I needed to act more like a man, but all I wanted to do was break down and cry.

So, I sat there in silence, staring at the ground and reminding myself to breathe. In and out Daniel, I thought to myself. As the seconds passed, the reminder to breathe faded out and was slowly replaced with rapid thoughts and panic.

What the hell is going to happen now?!

Why did it have to be her?!

Will there be a funeral?!

Will mom and dad even let me go if there is one?!

Am I allowed to scream yet?

"Daniel, go to your room. It's late and you have to get up for school in the morning," my father ordered. My gaze swiftly switched from the coffee table to him. He still had an expressionless gaze painted across his face. I felt a spark of anger go off in my gut and soon, a fire was growing within me. Aunt Aileen was dead and he was brushing it off like it was nothing.What was worse was that he expected me to do the same. As much as I wanted to expect more out of him, this wasn't unusual for him. My father was a cold man who didn't think too much about emotions.

"So that's it? We aren't going to talk about it or anything?" I asked, feeling the rage build up inside me. My father didn't move an inch, but my mother looked mortified. It was as if I had just kicked a puppy in front of her. I couldn't tell who I was more furious with at this point. Maybe I was just angry at everything.

"Daniel, I am not going to repeat myself. Go upstairs, now," he scolded, but I wasn't letting him win this time.

"No, I want to talk about this. I want to talk about her," I pleaded as I stood from the sofa, but he still showed no trace of emotions.

"Daniel, please—" my mother started to say, but I cut her off before she could finish, finally letting my anger take control.

"Why do we always do this?! We all bottle up our feelings and just let them sit there without even acknowledging them. I'm sick of it! I'm sick of this bullshit!" I yelled, scowling at the two of them. My mother was still in complete awe of my act of defiance towards my father, while his face was growing as red as a tomato.

"You watch your mouth! I am your father and you will treat me with respect!" he shouted back at me, but there was no way that I was backing down any time soon. It was too late for me to do so now. I was too far in.

"Or what? You'll ground me? Go ahead, see if I give a damn!" I argued. By now, my mother was in tears, but she still stayed silent. Part of me wanted her to stand up and say something, even if she wasn't siding with me, but then again, the other part of me knew that it would only make me angrier. My father took a few steps towards me. This was usually the part where I shrunk back down, but my blood was pumping too fast for me to think straight.

"You're going to stop this hysterical behavior now and you are going to get your ass in bed. I don't ever want to hear about this again. Do you understand?" he asked, but I didn't respond. I couldn't. There was nothing left for me to say. Suddenly, a thought struck me and before I could take a pause to think, it became verbal.

"Aunt Aileen was more of a parent than either of you ever were," I blurted out and as I finished my sentence, I felt something that over time became something I was used to.

His palm was rough as it dragged across my cheek. I swore that I could feel his nails digging into my skin a bit. Faintly, I could hear my mother gasp from where she sat, but she soon returned to her regularly programmed helpless crying. She didn't do or say anything about what had just transpired before her, but I didn't really expect anything else. Like me, this was something she was used to seeing. Maybe she was scared that the same thing would happen to her. Maybe she just didn't want to cause more conflict. I didn't like to dwell on it too much.

It felt as though time had stopped entirely and instead of falling to the floor, I was falling into a void of nothingness. As I fell, I found myself wondering why people say that they can't process what is going on when something happens. All I could do now was take in what was happening. I couldn't think about anything else. What do those people do? What do they think of? Do they try to think of happy things instead? I can't imagine someone thinking about what they had for lunch that day as their father was hitting them.

Once my body hit the floor, time went back to normal. I heard the loud thump as I hit the hardwood floors. My arm brushed over the coffee table, knocking over a few glasses that had been placed there. I could feel small shards of glass cutting into my arms as I collided with the floor. No one dared to speak, which I expected. The only sound that echoed after my fall was my mother's light sobs. I didn't dare to move or look them in the eyes. I couldn't physically force myself to. It's not like I wanted to in the first place, but something told me they were expecting it.

"Hopefully that will get it through your thick skull. Don't disrespect me, Daniel. Now, for the last time, get to bed," he told me in a low voice. Without a single word, I picked myself up off of the ground and began to walk up the marble steps towards my room.

The door slammed behind me and I felt all of the rage return at once. Not only because I had just gotten knocked on my ass by my father, but because Aunt Aileen deserved more. She deserved to be remembered. She deserved a moment of silence. She deserved...

No, she isn't dead. God damn it, she can't be dead, I thought to myself as I slid down the door to my room and pulled my knees in close to my chest. She was alive and tomorrow I would go to her house and she would make us both dinner because Christ knows that the two shit heels I got stuck with as parents wouldn't bat an eye if I didn't eat for a day. She and I would go for a walk in the park by her house and we would talk about a new book she read, or something that happened to me at school. She would tell me that things would get better and I would believe her. She would...

I let out a single deep breath and the tears began to flow. There was nothing I could do to stop them. My chest felt tight and heat was radiating off of my face. She was gone. That was it. Just like that, she was ripped away from me. I was being one of those idiots who tried to convince themselves that a lie can actually be a reality. The more I thought about it, the more it hurt, and maybe that's why I kept forcing myself to.

She was gone.

Aunt Aileen was gone and she was never coming back.