"All that we see or seem, is but a dream within a dream." ~Edgar Allan Poe.
Chapter 1. Callie.
I clawed at my pillow for dear life in a weak effort to muffle my sobs, praying for comfort that never came. I felt the heavy trails of mascara streaming down my flushed face as I took in a deep breath, unable to calm myself. The hot tears just kept flowing out, no matter all of my half hearted attempts to make them stop. As soon as I thought they were done, a new round took a hold of my body and the heartache just poured out of me. What's worse is that I don't even know why I'm crying.
Actually, no, that was a fucking lie and I knew it.
This whole ordeal is based solely on the dark, unholy feeling residing deep in the pit of my stomach, forcing itself into my mind and invading my thoughts. It is gripping my soul and squeezing until there was nothing left but a hollow shell of what I used to be, manifesting itself into something that I cannot control. I felt that, for the first time in my short life, I was completely and helplessly alone. No one can relate, though they try, I'll give them that. I feel as though I'm spiraling downwards into a black hole and nobody was there to catch me. Whoever is left is just watching, waiting as I fell and neared the dank, empty bottom where they can no longer hear my screams and pain.
They all went on uncaring, happily living their lives in peaceful, ignorant bliss and left me alone. Maybe it's easier this way, because, after all, what was my use to the world? It sure as hell doesn't do me any favors. It has taken everything that it possibly could from me and turned me into a total stranger whom even I don't care enough to get to know.
My stomach was knotted and churning, growing tighter with pain with each and every passing pessimistic thought that ran through my overworked brain. I sat up on my bed and drew my legs to my chest securely, trying hard to regain my composure. I rubbed my eyes with no effort and snorted at my pathetic state. If my father stuck around long enough to see this, he'd throw a fucking fit. Crying never solved anything, crying is for wimps. I just need to grow up and suck it up, because life is hard, and that's the end of it.
But, the thing is, he isn't here. He won't ever be, ever again, no matter how badly I wanted to take everything I ever said to and about him back. This is his home, how could he possibly have another life--another family? The thought alone was too hard to fathom. It doesn't work like that. It shouldn't. It's not fair.
What did we ever do that was so terrible? Sure, we had our issues, but who didn't? In the end, this small family of ours used to be about love above all else, and I always naively thought that that would be enough to keep us together. As it turns out that just isn't the case anymore for him. We just aren't enough anymore, and all of that love went away as if it meant nothing to any of us.
I can't be that horrible of a daughter, can I?
Maybe I'm just a burden, and maybe they'd all be better off without me. Whether that's true or not, I just couldn't do that to my mother, it would break her already shattered heart. She barely speaks to me or anyone anymore, and I just know that she is silently blaming me. Rightfully, I have to say. I mean, what else could it have been? It had to have been me that made him learn to hate and disassociated himself with everything in his life. I forced him into giving everything up so selfishly.
As much as I hated myself for all the mistakes of my past, I hated him even more. I hate him. I hate him so damn much. He is the reason I can't sleep, he's the reason my mom has no life in her eyes, he's the reason we had to move hundreds of miles and I had to change schools, again, just because she couldn't take the pain of living in that house that we used to share any longer. He ruined everything for us.
He ruined my life.
God, I wish he was here so I can scream it in his face! Screw him, screw life, screw feelings, and screw this. Worst of all, I hate the fact that I can't stop loving him, even if he doesn't love me back. I just want to hate him, but I can't completely. I just can't.
I hit my pillow with all my energy, again and again, wishing it was his face. His hard, and now cold, unloving face that I don't even know anymore. He's a stranger to me, just as I am to him. I wanted to scream.
I forced myself to stand, mechanically walking to my dresser to peek at my reflection in the mirror. I didn't recognize the person that was staring back at me. The girl's eyes were lifeless and hardened with the stress of the weight of the world. Picking up a brush, barely acknowledging that I was even moving at all, I ran it through my shoulder length, bright red hair. I chewed on my bottom lip subconsciously, forgetting about the newly acquired, very tender silver hoop piercing. I let out a small yelp of pain and dropped the brush to the ground, snapping myself out of my out-of-body experience. I kicked it across the room angrily, with much more force than was necessary.
Now agitated I sighed, picking up my book bag and slinging it over my shoulder. I didn't really care about my hair or my looks at the moment. I just wanted to leave.
"Mom, I'm going to school," I called out, only to have my words echo back to me off the empty walls of our new house. It was dark and gloomy feeling. I knew this wasn't ever going to be my home.
"Okay. Be safe, Callie," she called back weakly in her usual monotone. I almost winced, but managed to swallow the lump in my throat and find my voice.
"Okay," I called back, then to myself I sarcastically whispered, "love ya too."
With that I forced myself out the door and into the warm South Carolina air. I pulled at the sleeves of my dark shirt self-consciously. Even in the middle of spring I found a way to be freezing cold while everyone else around me found it more than acceptable to don tank tops and shorts. I gulped, but kept my head up, forcing myself to push forward. Before walking any further, I quickly backtracked and threw off my book bag, ditching it into the bushes in the lawn beside the house.
After stashing my worthless school things with a look of satisfaction, as is now my daily custom, I made my way back down the path towards the only bookstore in town. The journey into town wasn't a long one, this area was fairly small and everything was right there in front of you, all scrunched up together like a cozy little family. I rolled my eyes at the thought and tucked a few strands of loose hair behind my ear.
This was going to be a long day, but at least it beats being at school. I'm just as alone there as I am here, though that was by choice. The last thing I need is people feeling sorry for the new girl from a broken home and trying to figure me out. It's bad enough that they send me to a guidance counselor every day during the period before lunch, thinking that I'm some kind of screwed up mess that needs to talk out my feelings and come to terms with my anxiety.
Well who the hell are they to tell me what I'm supposed to be feeling? Who are they to tell me that I'm a complete wreck of a human being who needs professional help? That I need medication to be their definition of normal? I don't need that kind of judgement in my life, and I am perfectly fine finding my own way in this world.
The streets were surprisingly busy for a Friday morning. Usually the traffic's painstakingly slow around eight o'clock and doesn't really pick up until noon. Not that that's saying much, though. Not too many people live in this part of town, and with the size of the population and the nearness of just about everything, generally people just walk to get to their destinations, which is just peachy for me, seeing as I don't have a car yet. That probably won't happen any time soon, I imagine, since I'm currently jobless.
A sudden gust of wind came out of nowhere, making me lose my train of thought as I wrapped my arms around my torso, grateful that I decided to wear long sleeves today.
"Oh, my God..." a panicked voice whispered. I looked up to see another person suddenly appear merely inches from my face. I barely acknowledged the fact that anyone had spoken because it was so quiet over the loud hum of the busy intersection. The only reason I took note of the boy in the first place was due to a sudden, paralyzing sensation take over my body. My eyes went as wide as saucers as I froze like a deer in headlights.
Everything happened in the blink of an eye, and life seemed to be moving in slow motion. I couldn't hear sounds anymore, or even my own voice, if I spoke at all-I couldn't remember. All I could make out of the person attacking me in the short second I allotted to open my eyes was a flash of the person's face. Their eyes, they seemed so wise beyond their years, and so kind. I don't understand why the feeling of comfort washed over me just then, but I didn't have time to question it. Then, before anything else, a bright light flashed before me.
Squeezing my eyes shut and trying to gasp for air were the last things I remembered. My body gradually went cold, then numb; I couldn't think, couldn't breathe. It was like a calming sensation, as I started to relax, and watched as the world around me faded to black as I drifted away slowly.