It was hot. Hotter than any single day I've ever experienced in my entire life. The sun beat down with no hope of cloud cover, the ground had been reduced to mere dust, and every tree in sight looked more like twigs with bark dryer than a desert.
This was not how I wanted to spend the end of my senior year.
Not that I had any other plans. My desires to finish my last semester in high school consisted only of hiding away in my room and talking to the only friend I had. But she was back in Colorado. My time was usually spent reading in solitude, listening to music whenever I had to make an appearance in public so I'd have an excuse not to converse with a single soul, and playing video games with my older brother Jason.
But Jason wasn't coming down until next week, he had to finish up with work before summer. Which left me in this hellhole, alone, without even one friend to talk to. Though I couldn't imagine talking to them anyway. I didn't talk very much. And when I say that, I mean not at all. I couldn't tell you why because I didn't know myself, I've just always been quiet. Verbally anyways. My mind was a web of thoughts and ideas, a turbine constantly spinning. But those thoughts rarely ever saw the light of day. My speech therapist, Dr. Young, told me my silence was due to some traumatic childhood event which my memory has repressed to save myself from the pain and despair.
Personally, I thought that was a load of bullhonkey.
Because I hadn't repressed the memories, I dreamed of them every night and thought of them every day. I could still see the stairs which led to the depths of the basement, I could still feel the cold of the concrete floor I slept on for countless nights, and I could still hear the boy telling me to be quiet or else his dad would hear us.
Ace Hunt. The boy who gave his life to save me.
Very few people knew I still remembered what happened, Jason was one of them. Not even my parents had known, though since that night our family has never been the same. After what happened to me when I was eight, my relationship with my parents was always on edge, like they were walking on eggshells around me. They always saw it as their fault but I knew better. There wasn't anything they could have done to stop it. Their guilt was entirely psychological. So they made up for it by burying themselves in their work as photographers.
They didn't want any other kid to feel as helpless as I had that night when I was told over and over again, you're wrong. So they dedicated their time to taking photographs of natural wonders and donating them to hospitals, foster homes, community libraries, all with the hope that their photos would inspire children and those less fortunate to keep fighting to see the wonder in the world instead of all the bad. My dad had been born into a fortune fit for a king so my parents never worried about making a profit from their work.
My parents had been good people, they were kind and they fought for the underdog every chance they got. Unfortunately, they were too devoted to their work. Now they're dead, and barely a week later I found myself standing in butt fucking nowhere, two suitcases at my feet, and sweat dripping down my back.
Did I mention that it was hot?
I checked my phone again, hoping to see a text from my grandmother, the only other living relative I had. Jason and I were spending the summer with her as we used to do every year when we were kids. But those yearly visits ended after what happened to me. A lot of things ended after that summer. My desire to socialize with other children, my desire to do anything really. After that summer, my thoughts were filled with a single boy who no longer existed. And now my parents didn't exist either.
The only one I had left was Jason.
On the contrary, while Jason finished up his work in lovely Colorado where I desperately wanted to return to, I was stuck in a town-sized crater called Barren Valley, Nevada and true to it's name, the town was barren.
On the way in, I saw one gas station placed strategically on the main road. The only road. It ran straight through the heart of Barren Valley then disappeared into the distance. The closest town was a half hour away by car and even longer by bus, my chosen mode of transportation unfortunately. The 'historic' buildings of downtown Barren Valley were crumbling and I haven't seen a living plant since I arrived nearly twenty minutes ago.
This town was ancient, beyond ancient.
Just as I remembered it being.
My phone buzzed in my hand and I excitedly check the screen, but it wasn't my grandmother calling as I had hoped it would be. Instead, it was my brother calling from Colorado. A pang of nostalgia entered my chest, I wanted to go home and lay in my own bed surrounded by my own things and forget the nightmare that was now my life.
"Hello." I stated quietly as I lifted my phone to my ear, my voice sounding oddly loud compared to the otherwise silent roadside.
Jason chuckled from the other end, "You sound excited. How's Diamondback Valley, the same as when we were kids?"
Diamondback Valley was what the locals called this sandbox due to the overwhelming amount of Diamondback snakes that slithered all throughout the town. Every year, someone would have the unfortunate luck of getting bit by one of these poisonous snakes. They usually never made it to the hospital which was located a whopping hour away. Getting bit by a Diamondback was a death sentence and everyone around these parts knew it.
I shrugged to myself, taking in the dust and dead vegetation, "Basically."
Jason sighed from the other end, the receiver thumping as if he accidentally hit it against his shoulder, "I know the situation isn't ideal but we have to make due with what we've got. Mom and dad would have wanted us to spend time with grandma after everything that has happened."
"I know." I responded. But we haven't seen our grandmother in years, ten to be exact. Things change, people change. The Lord knows I have. That wasn't the main issue though, I was eighteen. Technically, I could move out on my own if I wanted to. Jason was twenty. We could rent out an apartment in Colorado and nothing would have to change. Everything could stay the same and I wouldn't have to live with my eccentric grandmother for a week without my brother.
"I know what you're thinking Gen." Jason said from the other end of the phone, his tone indicating that he had read my mind as he did so often, "Grandma says our endowment doesn't begin until I'm twenty-one. So even if we wanted to stay in Colorado, we're as broke as Barren Valley. I know it's going to be different, we'll have to adjust to not having any money, but this is going to be good for us. Really good."
A sad smile appeared on my face, "Yeah. Sure."
Jason was quiet on the other end. He was never quiet, not usually anyways but recently he seemed to be almost as quiet as me. I knew it was our parents passing that affected him the most but it wasn't just their death which pressed heavily on his mind. It was also college, considering he was now two years behind, and it was also me. He worried about me far too often and far too much. He wanted me to have lots of friends and go to parties and do normal teenager stuff.
Like him.
But I couldn't be normal. I didn't know how to be normal after everything I've been through. The summer of my eighth year left me broken and scared and alone. It took everything in me just to get up each morning. Sure I was a little quiet and a little shy, but I felt normal on the inside even if no one else saw me that way.
"I'll see you soon?" I asked, the hope in my voice was enough to bring the old Jason that I knew and loved back.
The smile on his face was evident in his voice, "Of course, Gen. As soon as I finish up work at the country club I'll be on my way. I would have come with you today and ditched work all together but Mr. Hillard was a friend of dad's and it didn't feel right to screw him over so soon after..."
"Yeah, I know. It's okay." I knew how hard our parents friends took their passing. We were all taking it hard. No one in particular was to blame, except for Mother Nature maybe. Either way, it didn't matter. My parents were dead and there wasn't a force on this earth strong enough to bring them back. So we had to make due with the cards we've been dealt, at least that's what Dr. Young used to tell me.
Just down the road, traveling within a cloud of dust, I saw a dark blue truck approaching. I recognized it as my grandmother's truck from pictures I had seen and a vague memory of my time here as a child. Anxiety ate at my heart as it always did when I thought of having to interact with other humans. I could already tell that this was going to be a shit show.
"Grandma's here. I'll talk to you soon." I informed Jason, my fingers gripping my phone tighter and tighter as the truck neared.
"Okay, tell her I said hi."
I said a quick good-bye to my brother before stuffing my phone into my pocket. A moment or two later, the truck came to a stop in front of me, rocks flying in all directions. Then the door open and boot clad feet hit the ground.
"Genevieve, is that you baby doll?" The woman who emerged from the truck asked. Strands of her greying brown hair were falling from where most of her locks were pulled back into a loose braid. The skin near her eyes and corners of her mouth crinkled as she smiled, showing many years worth of laughter. She was dressed in a pair of jeans and a tank-top, covered by a purple flannel with the sleeves rolled up to show boney hands. Her worn out boots kicked up dust as she walked over to me and wrapped me in a tight embrace.
"I can't believe it's been ten years." She whispered as she hugged me tighter. Her perfume hit my nose and it was like I had been thrown into the past. It was the same overpowering sweet smell I used to love. The aroma was comforting, like a cherished memory I had long since forgotten.
Tentatively, I reached one arm up to hold her back. I wasn't good with physical affection, or any kind of affection for that matter. After a few moments, she pulled back and held me at arm's length, staring at my figure, " You look so much like your folks. You're beautiful and you were such a quirky looking kid too. Do you remember that year your mother cut your hair and it looked like your head got caught in a fan?"
A small smile gripped at my mouth but I shook my head.
Grandma cocked her head sideways, "You don't remember that? It was that summer when..."
Her voice trailed off. So she was going to be the same as everyone else? Always watching what they said and walking on tiptoes, afraid they might hurt my feelings or say the wrong thing that might bring back my memories.
"I'm sorry. Guess you probably don't want to talk about it huh?" Grandma questioned, her fingers brushing through a strand of my own dark hair. She knew that I remembered? The look of confusion on my face must have clued her into my thoughts because a second later she said, "I called Jason last week once I heard of your parents passin' to make arrangements for you two to move down here. He told me all about how you remember."
That little traitor.
"Don't worry, I ain't gonna make you see a shrink or anythin'. If you start havin' mental breakdowns or somethin', then yeah, maybe. But as long as you're happy and healthy, I don't see a need to involve a shrink." Grandma informed, offering me a small smile. She was the first person who wasn't going to treat me like an injured child.
Okay, deep breath Genevieve, now speak, "Thank you."
It was a mere squeak of a sentence, barely audible. But a wave of pride swept through me, I had spoken to my grandmother without stuttering or having a panic attack. That was something to celebrate. I wish I liked alcohol because just from that small accomplishment, I'd be drinking all night long. Instead, I'll probably celebrate by taking a nice long bath. Yeah, that sounded good.
"You don't talk much do you?" Grandma asked.
She didn't really give me a chance to answer before she bent over to collect my bags and throw them into the back of the truck. Glad nothing breakable was in there. Grandma hopped into driver's seat, which I took as my cue to round the vehicle and get into the passenger seat. The truck was nearly as tall as me, coated in a thick layer of dirt. Somehow I managed to pull myself up into the beast.
Once in the truck and buckled safely in my seat, I saw that grandma was watching me. She grinned broadly, "Guess you can handle yourself then."
The corners of my mouth turned upwards. I could already tell that she wasn't going to baby me as my parents had since the moment I found them in the street after escaping that awful house. The very image of that house woke me in screams more often than not. But now wasn't the time to dwell on the past when my future was already in pieces.
Grandma rambled on and on, telling me all about the recent changes in town even though it looked as though no one had renovated anything in Barren Valley in over fifty years. A few new houses were littered along the outskirts, each one accompanied by large fields for livestock. The land was mostly flat but the main part of town sat in a valley, surrounded by tall hills, thus the name.
"And there's the high school." Grandma told me, pointing to a building that looked more like a prison than and educative structure. Cars lingered in the parking lot even though it was almost six p.m on a Saturday. She tapped my knee twice, "There's only a few months left of school but I'm sure you'll like it there. The kids are all really nice and my friend, Donna, is the lunch lady but before working there, she had her own restaurant a few towns over. Oh she makes the best chicken pot pie..."
Grandma went on to talk all about Donna and how she could have made it big if it weren't for her thyroid condition. But while she spoke, my eyes were locked on the school. I'd have to attend that school for only a few months but in my mind, it seemed like an eternity. At least the kids at my last school knew I was a loner and enjoyed being introverted. No one bothered me, and I liked it that way.
Here, was different. I had to start all over again with new kids that wouldn't understand my awkwardness. I liked being awkward, it was just my personality.
After another ten minutes of driving and two whole conversations later, we turned off the main road and onto a dirt path. A forest of dead trees lined both sides of the road, stretching their branches over the asphalt, forming a tunnel of bare tree limbs. It was actually quite beautiful in an odd kind of way.
Further down, there was a fork in the road. The truck lurched to the left, following the natural curve of the land. The trees continued along the road, blocking the sun from its relentless mission to make me melt under its heat.
"Here we are, home sweet home." Grandma announced.
The house we pulled up to wasn't quite what I remembered. It was much smaller than the house I lived in back in Colorado though it looked just as spacious. The house was made of a light brown wood that gave the house a dusty, cozy feel. A dark roof topped the structure with one lonely tower off to the left. This house was surrounded by a few tall pine trees and a field of wildflowers that lay almost hidden in the back. A tire swing hung from one branch out front and a tree house could be seen built high in the trees to the left. While the rest of the town was bathed in a dry and sandy dirt, the grass here was green and lively.
And there was a wrap around porch, much like the one at my old house. Almost exactly the same.
Memories came flying back to me of Jason and I playing on grandma's porch. Of Ace and I playing on grandma's porch. Of the tire swing, and the tree house, and the vast field of wildflowers. Each memory hit me like a planet. All from a time long before my kidnapping, long before I knew what kind of hell Ace had gone through each day.
"I know it's nothin' compared to what you're used to but it's the best Barren Valley has to offer." Grandma informed, throwing the truck into park and hopping out into the heat. I followed after her, my eyes still locked on the porch.
When she came to my side and saw my awestruck face, she mistook it for hatred, "Oh I'm sorry honey. I spent the week tryin' to get everything cleaned up for you guys but it was so last minute and I can't move as fast as I once could."
"No, it's great." I replied, feeling my cheeks heat. The feeling settling in my torso was much warmer than the sun above. It felt like ... home. I realized the moment we pulled up that my mother must have recreated the porch at our house after this one. She brought a piece of her childhood home with her to Colorado and now it was a piece of my childhood as well.
Grandma broke into a smile once more, "Well good, I'm glad. Come on. I'll show you to your room and you can start gettin' unpacked while I make dinner."
She grabbed one of my bags from the back, leaving me to grab two. I had left most of my things in Colorado. Most of them would probably be sold or donated but that didn't bother me. I had brought with the most important things, the objects I held dear to my heart. Everything else simply took up space, brought back too many memories, and made it too hard to move on.
After climbing the porch steps I had to force myself to suppress a smile at hearing the wood creak under our weight, just like the porch back home.
Walking through the front door was like walking into a whole new world. Pale green walls met dark wooden floors with dark trimming running along the perimeter of each wall. To the right was a living room with clean white carpets and crisp furniture, surrounded by beautiful pink potted flowers in many of the corners and a stone fireplace which sat in the middle of the room, probably more for decoration instead of actual usage since it was always so hot outside.
To the left was a staircase which ascended to the second floor, along the wall were pictures of what looked like my mother as a child. There were also a few pictures of my grandmother with a man whom I could only assume was my grandfather, but they got divorced long before I was ever born.
A hallway stretched out in front of me, lined with a long rug, disappearing into the back of the house where I could see into what looked like a kitchen with pale yellow walls and white tiled floors. What caught my gaze more than anything was the large chandelier hanging over my head, shining in the light of a setting sun from a window which rested above the front door. It was a beautiful house, seemingly out of place in a poor town such as Barren Valley.
"Right this way to the rooms." Grandma instructed, gleaming at the house as she led me up the stairs, "Your grandpappy built this house when we first moved here. I was pregnant with your momma and he wanted us to have the perfect little house to raise a child in. And let me tell you it was perfect for a long time. Then some blondie with long legs caught his attention and he was out the door quicker than a hiccup."
She obviously had gotten over it long ago but still I felt bad for her, "I'm sorry."
"Nah, don't be. I raised a better girl than he ever could. Besides, this is my house not his. Never was. And that's all there is to it." Grandma shrugged off the topic as we reached the second floor. This hallway was smaller, though still as pristine as downstairs, "This is my room right here. Jason's room is just down the hall and then your room is in the tower. It's a smaller room but your momma enjoyed it so I figured you would too."
That caught my attention, "It was my ... mom's room?"
Grandma nodded, "She lived here with me for nineteen years. Then she decided she wanted something better so she shipped herself off to California. That's where she met your daddy and they settled in Colorado a few years later."
At the end of the hall there was a simple wooden door which opened up to a short staircase that led into a small room in the tower. It was quaint but ... perfect. With wooden floors covered by a cream circular rug and pale pink walls lined with cream stripes, the whole room felt friendly. A little childish, but I didn't even care. The fact that my mom lived in this room for nineteen years was enough for me. Just being in this room felt like I was a step closer to her, almost like I could reach out and touch her. Hug her. Almost as if I could pretend she wasn't dead.
"Miss her huh?"
I hadn't realized the tears gathering in my eyes as I took in the bed covered in a homemade quilt, all sitting atop a white wooden bed frame. My mom slept in that bed, probably read in that bed. She put on makeup at the matching white wooden vanity across the circular room. She stared out the window which overlooked the field of wildflowers in the back, probably thinking about better places in the world.
My head nodded on it's own accord.
Grandma sighed to herself, "Yeah. I miss her too. I haven't seen her since ... well, since that awful summer."
Poor grandma, she never got to see her daughter because of a mistake I made. If only I had listened to Ace sooner, I never would have been kidnaped. Ace would probably still be alive if I had only listened. And grandma wouldn't have missed out on her grandchildren growing up. Or her daughter for that matter.
"I remember the first time my daughter came back here. She showed up one day outta the blue with this little boy clingin' to her leg, he was just two but he was the most handsome boy I had ever seen in my life. And she was holdin' this bundle of blankets, all wrapped around this tiny little thing. I never would have guessed it was a baby if Wendy hadn't told me so." Grandma turned to me with glistening eyes. A somber smile tugged at her mouth, "You were so beautiful, baby girl. So tiny and so, so perfect."
Happiness burst through my chest at knowing my grandma thought I was perfect. I was far from it in fact, quite far indeed.
"Anyways, I'm sure you don't want to hear all this mushy crap." Grandma informed, absentmindedly wiping at her eye. I so desperately wanted to tell her that I didn't mind hearing the 'mushy crap' as she so colorfully put it, but the words didn't come. They never did. Grandma brushed her hands on her jeans, "Alright well supper will be ready in about an hour. Usually we'll eat supper at six every evenin' but tonight I'll make an exception. Unpack what you can and we'll finish the rest tomorrow."
"Thank you ... grandma." I said quietly, hoping I hadn't overstepped any boundaries.
But grandma looked pleasantly surprised and nodded, "No problem buttercup."
Then she was gone, leaving me to my solitude. I enjoyed being alone, it gave me time to think. I went through my bags and unpacked my clothes into the dresser, letting a few tears slip along the way. I placed my favorite books on the bookshelf and unloaded what little makeup I had onto the vanity. And by that I mean I pulled out a tube of lip gloss. Make up was never really my forte, sometimes I wished it was and other times I was glad it wasn't. All the girls at my old high school looked practically flawless, while I looked as attractive as a wet dog.
I placed an old and ratty stuffed bunny on the bed. My mom used to tell me she got it for me when I was only a week old and from that moment on, I couldn't leave the crib without it. I dragged that bunny with me everywhere, to every birthday party and ever visit to grandma's. At one point it was white but now her fur had become a greyed version of what it once was. The only time I didn't have it gripped tightly in my hands was during the week Ace's father kept me stashed in the basement. Away from anyone and anything.
"Think we're going to like it here, Filly?" I asked my bunny, sitting on the bed and hugging the soft animal to my chest. It comforted me like no one else could, in ways no one else could. Being in this room, with Filly squished between my arms, I felt at peace. Comforted. Still lonely but not from being alone. I felt lonely at knowing I was orphaned.
Tears formed in my eyes once more.
Catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I saw how saddened I looked. Thick, dark brown hair tumbled to my shoulders as straight as a pin. Muddy hazel eyes met my gaze in the mirror, hidden behind naturally long lashes. My mother always told me that my high cheekbones and button nose were inherited from her, but everyone else has always told me I look more like my father.
Jason on the other hand looked almost exactly like my mom. They both had golden blonde hair and pale blue eyes. Jason was stall and broad like my father while I was short and petite like my mom. Together, Jason and I were near impeccable replica's of our parents. I liked knowing that we resembled our parents. It made me feel like my appearance, as well as Jason's, was keeping them alive somehow.
My mind so graciously reminded me that my parents were in fact dead, which brought about another wave of depression. Right now, I didn't want to look like my parents or be 'perfect' as grandma had suggested. I just wanted to wallow in self pity as the girl who no one liked. Yes, that sounded wonderful.
With everything unpacked and my now empty bags shoved under the bed, I busied myself by reading through one of my of favorite books, sitting near the window overlooking the field of wildflowers. I used some pillows as comfortable seats and draped a blanket over my ankles even though it was ungodly hot outside.
The book in my hands just so happened to be my favorite book in the whole world, The Goblin Wood by Hilari Bell. I'd bought the book at a garage sale during my seventh grade year and I've read through it at least fifty times since then. The cover and binding of the book were worn, ripping and breaking near the edges. The pages themselves were in near perfect condition, besides the countless page corners which had been folded down by yours truly to mark my favorite parts.
One of my favorite things about this particular book was the smell of the pages, old and musty, like an aged library or a dusty garage. But I didn't mind the smell, it was familiar to me like a childhood friend. It was one of the few books I could read over and over again without ever becoming bored or dull.
I sat under that window for a long time, letting my mind be captured by the words from my book, basically transporting me to another world. Unfortunately, reality was far too provoked to let me dwell in my fantasies. Grandma called from somewhere downstairs, informing me that supper was ready. With a sigh, I closed my book and placed it back on the shelf.
Considering grandma never told me where the dining room was, it took me a few minutes to find it. Turns out, it was in a room connected to the kitchen, at the back of the house. It looked similar to the living room with dark wood furnishing and pale green walls. Yet another room I was surprised to find so neat and spotless. In my mind, I pictured grandma's house with gardening tools everywhere and a few too many hanging plants.
At least that's how I remembered it from my childhood.
Grandma was bringing out the last plate of food as I entered the dining room, a bowl of corn. There were also green beans, mashed potatoes, and a beautifully cooked roast beef sitting as a center piece. It looked so delicious, my mouth started watering.
My mom's meals kind of looked like this, now I knew who taught her.
But there was so much here, I felt bad. It was only grandma and I yet there was enough food here to feed a small neighborhood. Did she feel like she had to go out of her way to make all this food for me? Because I would have been fine with McDonalds ... did they even have a McDonalds in Barren Valley? Did they know what McDonald's was?
"Well don't just stand there, dig in sweetheart." Grandma ordered kindly, already taking a hefty serving of mashed potatoes and plopping them onto her plate. She sat at the end of the table. Should I sit next to her or at the other end? Wouldn't that be weird?
I hesitantly took the seat to my grandma's right, reaching for a bare plate which sat in the middle of the food. Then I took a little of everything and organized it onto my plate just as grandma had, only her food was a large pile. Mine were several small, separate piles.
"So how's unpackin' goin'? Need any help?" Grandma asked, shoveling a spoonful of corn into her mouth.
I shook my head, rolling a green bean back to it's respected pile, "I'm finished."
Grandma froze mid spoonful and gawked at me, "You're finished? You've only been up there for an hour or two. Hell, it took me almost a week to move all my stuff into this house once your grandpappy finished it."
I could only shrug, offering her a small smile. I didn't know how to tell her that I left most of my belongings at my old house. If I tried hauling all those things here, it would have taken me years to sort through it all and find appropriate places for each object. Besides, Jason was bringing much more down than I had, he would need as much space as possible.
"Well, we can go shoppin' tomorrow in case you forgot anythin'." Grandma informed, moving on to the green beans now that her corn was gone. We ate in silence for a while after that. Again, I felt like I should say something, anything, to make small talk. But what could I ask her? How the weather was? What the weather would be like?
How about something besides the weather?
But what? I didn't know how to converse well. In all honestly, I didn't know how to converse period. Grandma seemed happily content with eating in silence but it bothered me that I couldn't even talk to the one family member I had left besides Jason. I could talk to my brother for hours on end, so why couldn't I do it with anyone else?
I took a deep breath, forced my tongue to unglue from the roof of my mouth, and whispered, "How is the ... weather ..." Damn myself, I sounded like a fool. Like some crazy person who deserved to be locked up. Why the hell was I so scared to talk to others? It was a natural way of the world, everyone did it. Everyone except for me.
Grandma didn't seem to notice the self disappointment in my eyes. She swallowed her mouthful of roast beef, "Well I wish I could tell you that you've got nothin' to worry about but the weather here can be brutal. During the day, the heat will skyrocket to triple digits during the summer and at night, well let's just say you don't wanna get caught outside without a jacket."
Really? It was at both ends of the spectrum here? I was going to melt during the day and then freeze at night? What kind of place is this?
The rest of the meal was finished in silence, mostly due to my inability to answer any of grandma's questions adequately. After our stomachs were stuffed, and I feared I might blow up, grandma dismissed me while she cleaned dinner. I tried to help but she snatched the plate from my hands and ordered me to relax after my 'long and tiresome' day. Of course there was no arguing with my grandmother so I simply nodded and wished her a short goodnight.
Again, frustration bit at my chest. Why couldn't I just freaking talk? Spending a week locked in some monster's basement shouldn't have affected me like this. Ace had lived with the man for eight years and he talked just fine. I had been shy before meeting Ace but not like this, I was never so petrified to speak.
Sleep wouldn't come easy tonight so I decided to take myself up on my own offer and run a bath. One of the few things I brought from my old house was the bubble bath my mother has been buying me for as long as I can remember. Sweet Pea. It was probably the most basic of all the bubble bath aroma's and I've heard hundreds of people say how much they hate it.
But the smell brought me comfort, because it was the same bubble bath my mom used. We were 'two peas in a pod' she'd tell me and I always liked how Sweet Pea was like two peas in a pod. Guess that just made me even weirder than I already am.
The bathroom near the stairs to my tower matched that of my room. The walls were a pale pink with cream stripes lining the room. All the amenities were a worn white and the beautiful clawed bathtub rested near a small window which overlooked the field of wildflowers. This house was absolutely gorgeous, how could my mom leave it?
As I busied myself by preparing the bath, I found a candle sitting atop the sink. It looked old, worn, though never used. The wax sat untouched by flame, the wick still an off shade of white instead of a charcoal black as it would be if it had ever been lit. Picking it up, I saw a label across the front which read Serenity for a Traveling Heart. How unexplainably perfect for such a moment in my life. Retrieving a small pack of matches I found in the vanity drawer, I lit the candle and instantly caught of whiff of warm vanilla.
Vanilla and Sweet Pea, what could be better?
Stripping free of my sweat and dirt covered clothes, I tossed my hair up and slipped into the steaming hot water. It burned my skin but only a little. Just how I liked it. And the smell met my nose like it was greeting an old friend. Complete and utter relaxation, that's what I liked to call these rare moments when I wasn't worried about interacting with others or speaking.
Or Ace.
A memory formed within my mind, one from the day I first met Ace. Usually I did my best to ignore the many thoughts swirling throughout my mind but this time, I didn't fight against it. I let the memory surface.
I ran to catch up with my mom who was talking with a friend from high school, Filly clutched tightly in my hand. The playground wasn't big but it took a while for my tiny legs to carry me anywhere. I must have only been four, maybe. Because of how young I was, the memory was fuzzy and nearly forgotten. But there was one part I remembered clear as day, one part that I'd never forget.
Just as I was about to reach my mom, I tripped. Filly went flying through the air and landed in the mulch just in front of me. Sour pain sprung into my palms and knees as pieces of wood scratched at my skin. Tears formed in my eyes and I prepared myself to scream, I'd gotten really good at throwing tantrums.
But then, the strangest thing happened.
Filly was lifted into the air, then set down right in front of me. And just behind her, was a boy. No older than me. Messy brown hair, the same shade as the dirt that consumed the ground, was cropped around his head. Pale grey eyes looked down upon me with such interest, like he were staring at a puzzle before it was fully put together.
"This yours?" He asked, leaning over to help me up. I nodded, taking Filly back into my arms and holding her against my chest. The boy smiled, then put his hands near his chest and started hopping around. I watched with wide eyes as he impersonated a bunny, stopping every now and then to wiggle his butt like he was wiggling a tail.
I remember laughing and playing with that boy for a long time. But then there was a woman, yelling, and he abruptly had to go. But just before he left, he shot me a toothy grin and said, "My name is Ace."
That's where the memory stopped. I shuddered under the water even though it was hotter than the sun outside.
He was such a good kid. He was helping me even back then, before I could truly appreciate it. And that woman, yelling, I should have known. There were so many signs throughout the years that Ace was being abused but I was too young to understand. Too young to admit to myself what I was seeing.
I clasped two wet hands over my face, trying to block out the new memories that were all flashing through my head. If only I had tried harder to make the policeman see, if only I had convinced my parents that I wasn't lying. Maybe Ace would still be alive and that monster would be behind bars. Maybe we would have continued visiting and I'd still be friends with Ace.
Everything would have been different ... but the past was the past.
And I couldn't change it.
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