When I was younger, I remember being stuck in a small, dark closet when I would get in trouble, or when my mother simply wanted to avoid me. This was mostly twelve consecutive hours a day. It was dreadful in there. I was never brought water or food. If I did, mum would make me beg for it. The closet had an eerie feeling to it, I never felt safe, and it was very cold. I heard a voice in that closet when I was there. She never got mad at me unless I was bad, I didn’t often do much, just the typical child play. I still hear her, seven years later, whispering, calling my name, telling me to come play because she “misses me”and needs her friend. In the middle of the night, I’m afraid she’ll jump inside me again when I misbehave. It’s the …show more content…
I have never told anyone about my companion. I asked Carrie why she is in my closet one day, she replied “I got in trouble. Mum wasn 't happy.”, Carrie told me mum made her mad. It made her take the love of her life, my daddy. Mum kept her there for fifteen days, twelve hours, and ten minutes with no food, water, or bedding. When my mother went to get carrie, she says she was dead, nothing but an empty body, without a soul. She told me that mum wasn 't very polite to her, simply because mum wanted to get revenge. Carrie says she was called a fault in mum’s life arrangement; a mistake. I spoke to mum about my friend. She said that’s my sister. I told mum I met her in the closet and we play together. Mum asked what Carrie talks about. I didn 't give her the direct answer, but instead I asked about my dad. Mum and I talked for hours, for once I wasn 't stuck in the closet and no one was afraid.
Never will I forget the sensation of awe, horror, and admiration with which I gazed about me when mum finally told me the truth. She says dad was murdered when I was an infant in mum 's belly, that’s why Carrie was in the closet. Carrie was the murderer of our Father. She’s evil and I didn’t know. This deeply unsettling truth has caused me to be terrified. My closest friend is now my “sibling” and biggest enemy. The reason I know of no father figure.
Mum is about to place me in the closet. I have purposefully dropped a dish so I may
I’d never understood what those simple words meant, and what they would come to mean in the years to come. All my small eyes were able to see was my family. That was all we were, the only normal I knew. The label had become a dark monster, demanding and frank, a massive foil to my beliefs before that night. In our tiny universe it was normal to hide things and lie, just so mother wouldn’t overreact and stress out; it was normal for her stress to climb high as a mountain, sending her plummeting into depression; it was normal for her to stay in bed all day, demons keeping her down; and it was normal for her to go away for a while, and to only be told she was sick. This time was different; I watched it through my innocent eyes; and I realized that we were not the normal I had
I walked into the kitchen and took in the scene before me. An unfamiliar woman stood at the back of the kitchen wearing all black except for a burgundy colored jacket. My father lie still on the tile floor, face-down with a knife in his back. The police say I went into shock after seeing what had happened in the kitchen that night and the images I could remember had been twisted by the horror of what I saw at only nine years old, but I can never forget the words she said to
“Your grandfather didn’t just die Faith, he was murdered. My father put rat poison in his wine that night that our families got together for a dance. I tried so hard to stop him but he locked me up in my room so I couldn’t.” Embry had a shaky voice and a loud cry now. My head swarmed with terrible thoughts that I couldn’t get out of my head. My whole family thought he died of a heart attack. What if my parents really knew the truth and weren’t telling me? Why is Embry going for me and not anybody else? I collapsed to the ground. Lily immediately ran out from the popcorn cart and held me tight. It felt like my world was coming to an end. Embry kept apologizing like it was all her fault.
We were walking for a few hours. My feet throbbed and my ears were ringing from Taylor’s whining. Finally I could see it, the old abandoned house I discovered one day while riding my bike. The door was barely hanging onto its hinges, and there were several windows missing or broken. I pried open the splintering oak door. In the house there was two rooms. One, the one you first enter, was most likely a kitchen and living room. There was a sofa with faded fabric and springs popping out everywhere. An old furnace sat in the corner with rotting charcoal inside. The door of the furnace was missing rendering the whole thing useless. The other room was much smaller. It was a bedroom. There was a twin sized bed. The frame was rusty and missing a leg. I pulled the mattress off of it, so we could sleep on it. There were springs and stuffing sticking out of the mattress. It wasn’t too dirty to sleep on because I pulled off the moldy sheets. We laid down on the mattress. Taylor started snoring within minutes. I was worried about Mom. She had had a seizure before. It was because of her failing liver. Last time, social services took me and my sisters to a girl’s home. They served cooked vegetables that smelled like rotten seafood and chicken noodle soup with frozen chicken. After Mom got out of the hospital she got custody of us, but the judge told her if it happened again she wouldn’t get us back. My older sister, Becca, was eighteen so she didn’t have to
I heard a feminine voice call out to me as I blazed out the front door. "Good morning Amber! Oh, where are you--" I cut her off with a sharp slam. I couldn't look back. With each step towards my car, I inhale painful sobs of air. I feel as if I don't know who I am, as if I was that 18 year old girl hearing the news of his death for the first time. I couldn't think of the name that belongs to me, or any one else but my father. Any face my subconscious offers had the resonance of a total stranger, then was replaced with the haunting image of
I was 21 now and I’d been hiding out at julia’s house for years now. I had a job and a child. For a long time i had been doing things on my own. I couldn’t live with my grandparents and face the fact they were the reason why my mother killed herself. At home someone kept knocking on the doors at night but we never knew who it
It was a cold, Halloween night. We had snuck out to smoke cigarettes in an abandoned parking lot. Our cover story was going to Ashley’s house, but I knew Isaiah’s mom didn’t believe it. She always knew when we were lying, if we were hiding something, or if we were planning something. She probably knew all the tricks since she was a troublemaker in her days, too. But it was on the days that Isaiah told the truth, when he was vulnerable and completely honest, when she still believed we were lying, that really annoyed Isaiah the most. He felt his mother just chose to distrust anyone and anything. That when she didn’t believe anything unless she saw it, heard it, smelled it herself. But to me, she has been lied to, too many times. By the same people, over and over again, until she just
Mom looked back and gave me a funny face. In fact, it looked like she wanted to burst out laughing! “Abby, Daisy says that you are the girl from her book”! I glared at mom. How could she just blurt it out like that? Secondly, she didn’t believe me. For once, I actually knew how it felt to be a fairy-tale character. Abby gave a loud laugh then said, “I’m sure I’m not a character from a book and yes, I know that resemble to characters from books but please, don’t accuse me if you don’t have proof”. But from her words, I could tell she was hiding something behind her words and laughter. As if she could trick me! “First of all, I’m not accusing anybody. Stop trying to make it worse than it seems. Second of all, I have real proof. So if you think you can come into my house, say you want to talk to me, and then lie to me, then you need to find another girl”! “Daisy!” Mom was furious this time. “Don’t talk to Mr. Alan’s daughter like that. Now you know he is a good man and he is always polite to you. So why do you dare talk to his daughter in such a way?” my mother roared. “I would never! Except that this isn’t Mr. Alan’s daughter. I have proof mom!” I snapped back. At that moment, I figured that I’ve had enough of this nonsense and zoomed upstairs to get my book. Except this time, my book was blank. All that was on the cover were books and her cat. Inside the book was where her name did not exist. It was as if
My mother and father sat downstairs and talked, Bella sitting with them, while I folded my clothes and put them into my chipped white wooden dresser. I could hear them murmuring between themselves, but I couldn’t hear specific words. My mother came up the stairs about ten minutes later as I was putting the last of my clothes into my dresser. Her five feet two-inch frame stood just inside my door with a Mona Lisa smile. Her eyes were sad and I could tell she was trying to hold back tears. I was confused as to why, and I was going to ask what was wrong, but she told me that my father had something he wanted to talk to me about.
I couldn’t bare the idea of losing her. I tiptoed downstairs as silently as possible while frantically scanning the house. I spotted light coming from under the kitchen door which had been left ajar. Hearing hushed screams, I made my way towards it. It sounded like my mother so I peaked inside only to see my father menacingly towering over the kitchen counter and my mother on the other side. I was frozen and just kept looking at them. I shouldn’t have because when I looked closer I saw the hatred in each other’s eyes and something I thought I would never see in my mother’s reddened eyes … tears. My dad’s fists were tightened to the point where his knuckles where white and his face was hard while he spat every single word with venom. I don’t know how my mother managed, but she met his glare and kept her stance while looking equally mad. I couldn’t hear what they where saying at that time because I was so surprised. This scene, I can never unsee. I can’t tell how much time I stayed there watching them, but I deduced that what seemed to be like forever was maybe a few minutes. Thankfully they were so engrossed in their conversation, that they didn’t notice
My mom picked me up at four thirty on September 30th, a Thursday. Four Thirty, way earlier than usual. Dressed in blue jeans and sweater, this was not her work attire. Perhaps she just had one of those awful migraines she gets at least once a month. Walking through the burnt orange leaves my mom and I pass the main building, and the middle school building. My mom has not said a word. She hits the “unlock” button twice to enter her Mercury Mountineer. As I sit down to buckle my seatbelt, she parts her lips to speak the unfathomable. “At around one o’clock today, Aunt Jackie died.” Aunt Jackie, my mom’s stepsister was possibly the most angelic person I had ever met. As my mom struggled holding back the tears to speak again a wave of
I felt betrayed by her and the years I had devoted to her. Every glimpse I caught of her flushed me with disgust and anger towards her. I declared to never make music with her again. I ignored her presence and neglected her as she silently collected dust in her dark corner. A year quickly flowed by and one by one, the chairs, the couch, and the rest of our furniture started to disappear. As my family prepared to move to New York, our apartment in Toronto looked hollow and abandoned. I knew that she would be next to leave and I would finally break free from the terrible memory I never wanted to remember. Three weeks before our departure, a buyer finally appeared. My heart sank down into my stomach. It was finally a time to leave her for good. However, I felt no relief; rather I felt guilt and regret. How could I have given up on her? How could I have pretended our eight years together never existed? I had become too arrogant from only tasting the sweetness of triumph that I turned away from a challenge. I had blamed her for my mistakes and was too afraid to try again. After several days, a large pickup truck pulled up in front of our lobby. As my mom left to greet the buyers, I was left alone face-to-face with her. I dragged my feet over to her corner and reluctantly took a seat.
There were tears in my eyes. I felt compelled to go and join Tyler in comforting Mom, but I stayed back feeling like if I were to go and join the feeling of comfort would break and the moment would be over. I didn’t want to ruin it. Suddenly Mom’s eyes opened from where her head rested on Tyler’s shoulder and she beckoned me with her hand. Slowly, I walked over and wrapped my arms around Mom and around my twin brother. In that moment I knew that we would stick together and tell each other the truth no matter how dire the situation was.
I constantly asked my mother where my father had gone. I wanted to resume our daily game of “Knock, knock”. She would not say a word to any of my questions. Yet, one day, a small tear rolling from her eyes answered them all. Eventually, she got a telephone call explaining where my father was. The news was bittersweet. My mother wouldn’t tell me anything, except that we were going on a short drive. We hopped into the car, neither of us knowing how the day would turn out. The drive seemed to last years, aging each one of us to a new level of maturity in preparation for the meeting with my father. We finally stopped at the Georgia County Jail. I looked at my mother in shock, unable to believe that this was where my father was. A small nod and the look of her eyes told me she felt the same confusion I did. She pulled me inside, where I saw lots of brown faces. I scanned each of them quickly, desperately looking for my father. I saw him and beamed with joy! My father was merely 10 feet away from me. I ran up to him, trying to play our old game of “Knock, knock”,
Imagine a young impressionable girl; she’s just 10 years old, bright blue eyes and wispy white blonde hair, she is carefree, a big sister to her little brother, and she is trustworthy. I am this girl. I am the girl that for 10 years thought of herself as the only big sister, but I was wrong. I remember sitting in my dad’s old gray work truck while he was under the hood fixing something. I was always nosing around in things that were none of my concern; that warm spring day was no different. As I was nosing around I found a photograph of a young girl, older than me but not by much, she was riding a horse. I was so confused. The girl in the photograph looked so much like me. She had the same hair and eye color, but I wasn’t as old as her, nor could I remember ever getting on a horse. I could feel the pressure of warm tears behind my eyes as I slowly exited the truck to ask my dad who the girl was in the photograph. On that day my whole world changed. My dad explained to me (after reprimanding me for plundering through his things) that before he met my mother, he dated a girl named Susan when he lived in Michigan. Susan became pregnant, but he wasn’t aware of this until after he and his family moved to South Carolina. Finding out I had an older sister was a profound experience because I felt like I finally had someone to talk to, I had my eyes open to a secret side to my family, and my sister became someone who I admire deeply.