Chapter 2 of “Past Memories”
-CALLI-
I slowly climbed the stairs up to the bedrooms. The stench of Daddy’s liquor was stronger up here. It had only been an hour and a half since I left, and he was already drunk. I could tell.
Quickly and quietly, I ran into my bedroom, closing the door behind me softly. As long as Daddy didn’t catch me, I’d head back to school. Heading to the closet, I opened up the small space. The space that I was last found. The place I was last tortured. Shuddering at the recent memory burned into my mind, I pulled out another black hoodie, and a pair of blue jeans. Carrying myself into the bathroom, I shut the door behind me.
How am I going to do this? I asked myself as I stare at the miserable person across from me. The mirror was dirty. Tinted yellow like all the other things in the household from Daddy’s cigars. My face was covered in crusted blood. You could hardly see any of my snow colored skin under all the gore.
Taking a makeup wipe, I rubbed at it until my skin was raw, but I couldn’t get the stickiness of the blood off my skin. The feeling was always there. Tainting me. Making me feel like I was drowning in it. I should be used to the feeling. I’d felt like this for seven years of my life. Almost eight now.
I tossed the wipe into the trash bucket and leaned against the sink, face in my hands. I immediately regret it, however. I put too much pressure on a freshly made bruise, bringing me much pain. I hiss loudly before I could stop myself, and I suddenly hear a loud bang from the hallway. Freezing in place, I shake my head at my stupidity. Daddy knew I was home now. He would beat me for his thoughts.
He wasn’t always like this, I remembered. He was a great father up until Mom left. She broke his heart when he found out she was leaving.
Now he used me, his last reminder of her, to take out his pain. Even though she and I didn’t look that much alike.
He opened the bedroom door. I could tell by the loud sound it made as it rubbed against the carpet. His heavy steps, along with his small limp could be heard approaching the bathroom door. I took one last look in the mirror. The bruises covered my face like bad acne. My cheeks, forehead, and even my nose had them. I wasn’t so pale anymore. Instead, it looked like I was suffocating. Maybe I was.
I turned to look at the door, just as it opened. Daddy’s blue eyes were dark with hatred for Mom and what she did. So I held up my hands and turned around. Just like I’d been taught to do.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
I stood once again in front of the mirror. My eyes were slightly red from crying last night, and my tongue was cut after biting down on it for so long. The bruises on my face were not so purple anymore. Some were yellow. The others were blue. A few were even red and black. I looked diseased. Crumpled.
Not only had Daddy hit me with the belt again, but he’d cut my old scars open with a silver knife he used to use for hunting. Gingerly, I touched the new old scabs. He’d cut deep. My back was left looking just as bad as my face.
I felt queasy and light-headed. It had been the most blood drained since the first night it all started. The only thing different though, was that he’d collected my blood in a bucket. He’d never cared enough to clean up after his own mess, so I was curious as to why he took it. What was he doing with it? Maybe he’s selling it to the hospital. I thought to myself. It was possible, but I doubted it. So what was it for?
Pulling out my almost-empty foundation, I applied it. It hid most of it, but I could only cover so much. I squirmed in discomfort. I felt like my whole being was drained of energy. Probably the lack of blood and sleep. I told myself. That was what it was. Right?
Quietly, I exited the bathroom. Walking back over to my small closet, I pulled out a dark purple hoodie. I only ever had dark clothes in my closet. I guess it gave me comfort in knowing it would hide the mess I was.
Slipping it over my head, I pulled on a pair of black skinny jeans. Looking around my room, I spotted sunglasses that could hide my pain-filled eyes. I didn’t know if I was allowed to wear them at school, but it was worth a shot.
Trudging down the stairs, I slid on sneakers and looked for my bag. Realizing I forgot it at school, I shook my head and left. The heavy clouds were still brewing overhead, not yet ready to release their dreaded tears. Once their tears are shed, they die in an instant. I wish I could do that. Maybe it would be so much easier. I thought as I kicked a pebble down the small road.
The air was chilly. Fall was near its end. Soon, winter would take over, and put the world to sleep under its cold white blanket. Soon, the trees would be bare. Dead until spring set in.
I strolled down the road, glancing over my shoulder occasionally, checking for cars. Even though they wouldn’t be able to see behind the fakeness of my face, I still felt conscious of their stares as they drove past me. It was like every fiber of my being protested the awareness of other people.
As I approached the school a little while later, I pulled the hood of my hoodie over my head. All the kids were whispering and glancing my way. As rumors spread, I could only guess what they were talking about. I ducked my head and quickened my pace for the school. This was not good. Not good at all.
Pulling open the doors, I froze. No one seemed to really care that I walked in. I sighed in relief, letting myself relax a little. Though I knew there would be rumors, I still felt insecure.
Opening my locker, I found that my backpack was inside. Alarmed, I quickly pulled it out to see if anything was placed inside or taken out. Nothing seemed out of place, but I shuddered at the thought of someone digging through my locker.
Slinging the straps over my shoulders, I shut my locker again. Turning around, I ran smack dab into the same kid from yesterday. This time, I was careful not to open up my wounds on my ugly back.
“Woah,” he said, reaching out to steady me. “You okay?”
I put my fingers on my temples and nodded. However, that plan backfired because my hood fell off. I panicked, eyes widening, nostrils flaring. The boy’s fingers tightened on my arms.
“You’re the girl from yesterday,” he whispers.
I reach for my hood, pulling it over my head, and shove him out of the way. I speed walk down the hall, trying to escape him. But he follows me. Right at the heel, too.
“What happened yesterday?” He inquired of me. The other students are watching him as he follows me down the hall. This was new. No one came near me. Fearful for their heads.
I see a blockage of students ahead of me. Growling at them as I approached, I let them know to move.
They don’t. Flinging my pack onto the ground, I strut over to them. Their eyes widened. Just MOVE already! I bark in my head. I won’t say it aloud, however. They can’t hear the pain in my voice. Though my back is agonizing, I divide the two sides with my arms. My shoulder blades digging into what little spine I have. It was like Moses parting the Red Sea.
“Why are you following Calli, Maven?” Nolan calls from the crowd of people to my right. He comes out of the side. He never really talked to me. I wasn’t even sure he knew who I was at first. After all, he was one of the baddies. However, I was glad he distracted Maven for long enough that I could slip away.
Mrs. Wittmer’s class was only a couple of doors away. I entered the foreboding door, feet dragging. It wasn’t that I hated Mrs. Wittmer, in fact, I didn’t mind her. It was the fact that it held the most interactions. Plus, I couldn’t put my soul into my writing. I just didn’t have one.
Setting my bag behind my desk, I slouched in my seat. I was one of the first people to class today. I didn’t know how to feel about it. Not even the teacher was in yet. That’s when Nolan walked in.
Then came Maven.
I frowned at Maven. He’d never been in this class before. Nolan shrugged at me. “This is Maven. You disappeared before he showed up for class.”
I furrow a brow at them. “I never knew there was a new kid.”
“Might be because you don’t have media. I mean. Who doesn’t?”
I coughed. “You just said it yourself. I don’t.”
Nolan rolled his eyes. “Besides you. I don’t know why your Dad doesn’t give you a phone. It wouldn’t do any harm.”
It was my turn to shrug. “We can’t afford one. I’m working - I mean, we’re working hard to keep us alive.”
The first lie of the day. I tell myself silently. It’ll only grow from there. It was true. One lie would lead to another.
“Why are you even talking to me, Nolan?” I asked.
“Because, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re one tough chick. The guys consider themselves your big brothers.”
Maven coughed deep in his throat, glancing between us, but letting his eyes finally settle on me. “Am I dead meat?”
“Yes,” I retort. “Now go away. I told you I never wanted to talk to you again.”
Nolan frowned. “So you have met the new kid?”
Sighing, I sink even further into my seat. “I guess so. It wasn’t a very pleasant encounter, but it could count as one.”
Maven shook his head. “I went to fetch the nurse, but when I came back, you were gone.”
Nolan raised a brow in a perfect arch. “Is that so?”
I shook my head. “I’m not your friend guys.” Even though I wish they would be, I would never let it come to that. “Leave me alone, or both your heads will be lost in the morning.”
Nolan burst out laughing. “I think you forgot that I live with criminals Ms. Jaspers.” I suppose it was true. His father was convicted of murder, mother in jail for illegal drug distribution. His older siblings were out and about vandalizing things and getting drunk at late night parties.
The bell rang and more people file into the classroom. “I never forgot. I just think of myself as a better criminal than you,” I grumble under my breath. Nolan took his rightful place in the seat before me, laughing. Maven, however, took the empty seat to my right. Brenda sat to Nolan’s right, giving Maven the doe-green-eyes of heaven.
Mrs. Wittmer entered the room, clapping her hands. “Alright, everyone!” She yelled. “Poetry is our new unit!”
I frowned. I sucked at poetry more than anything else. It required experience and meaning. All the things that I went through, I’d never share or write. Pulling out a piece of paper, I felt ashamed. This could help me. And I wouldn’t have to necessarily share them. I was just too afraid.
Mrs. Wittmer continued her instruction. “I want to see what you know. Write a poem about something you feel deeply about. Whether it has happened to you or not, I don’t care. I just want something powerful.”
I frown. I understood poetry only a little, but it had rhyme and repetition. And lots of big words. I set the tip of my pencil on the blank page. I don’t know big words though. I told myself. So I let my head fly back to the days that I truly thought was the end.
Once there was a girl
But she was alone
Lost in her big world
Dying real slow
Head is rolling on the ground
She’s feeling numb all around
Eyes can’t close
She doesn’t know
Only one left
All alone
All alone
Feeling kinda sick
All alone
All alone
Slowly dying
All alone
All alone
I blink. Reading the words over and over in my head, I cover my mouth with my frail hand. My fingers are cold against my burning cheeks. I run them under my nose subconsciously. I suddenly feel tired. It’s hard to keep my heavy eyelids open. Placing the pencil on the paper once more, I continue my writing.
Can’t bring herself to an end
But can’t stand the pain
Of losing her mind
Losing her brain
No heart left
Freezing cold
She is slipping
Doesn’t have a hold
She’ll fall
All alone
All alone
She’ll scream
All alone
All alone
She’ll die
All alone
All alone
She won’t breathe
She can’t
After the cries of her sorrows
She’ll die alone
Mind is shattering glass
Piercing her being
Better locked away is she
But can’t be contained after seeing
Mouth will breathe its last breath
All alone
All alone
Feeling kinda scared
All alone
All alone
She dies
All alone
Her heart gone cold
I set the pencil down. My eyes are burning as I try to hold back the wave of tears that suddenly come over me. I never put it down onto paper, but now that I had, it seemed so much easier. Easier than the truth. Though it still hurt to look at, I realized that it wasn’t as sad if you hadn’t experienced it. I close my eyes, letting myself slide deeper into the hard plastic seat.
Nolan glances back at me, curious. “You good Calli?” he whispered.
I nod my head without opening my eyes. My back was alarmingly agonizing. I shifted in the seat, draping my body over my desk. I feel a light tap on my right shoulder.
I ignore it.
After a few seconds, I get stabbed with the tip of a pencil in the same spot. I open my eyes and glare at Maven. “What?” I growl deep in my throat. Mrs. Wittmer glances up from her work and stares at me.
“Is something wrong Calli?” she asks me. She pushes her thick-rimmed glasses up on her nose.
Maven doesn’t even give me the chance to reply. “She’s fine. Just a little frustrated with her work.”
Mrs. Wittmer’s brow furrows. “Do you need help, Ms. Jaspers?” Worry was genuine in her voice, but I wouldn’t let myself be fooled.
I smile at her weakly, but glare at Maven out of the corner of my eye. “No. I’m actually done. Just tired is all.”
Mrs. Wittmer stood up, clipboard hugged to her chest. “Are you ready for me to check your work?”
I frown. I hated showing my work to people, but I nodded anyway. After all, I came to school so I could get a life. So I could leave home behind. The teacher walked over, getting to me in a matter of seconds. Picking up my paper, she scanned the page thoroughly. After a minute or two, she set my paperback down on my desk. “Quite interesting, Ms. Jaspers. Would you mind me asking what it’s about?”
Nolan, Brenda, and Maven all watched me closely, ears waiting for my answer. My mouth, however, had gone completely dry. “Um…” I mumbled. “It’s about feeling alone in a world you cannot imagine anyone else would be in.”
“Explain,” Mrs. Wittmer told me, brown eyes curious.
“Uh…” I mumbled again. I was unsure what she wanted me to say. I couldn’t tell her the truth. After all, it was a rule I had set. “Imagine you’re going through a hard time that you felt would never end,” I decide to say. “You feel lost, scared, and alone. Unable to really say anything to anyone for a fear of them getting into the same situation. She feels like she’ll die there, unable to escape her torment.”
Mrs. Wittmer frowned at me, contemplating what I said. Nolan and Brenda looked surprised. Maven watched the others for their reaction. “I’ll be honest with you, Ms. Jaspers,” Mrs. Wittmer said, placing her hand on my shoulder in what was supposed to be a soothing way. However, it made me cringe at the thought of someone else’s hands on me. “This is the best work you’ve given me by far,” she exclaimed.
Maven cocks his head at me. “You of all people seem like you would have a more interesting story,” he says. Though I think he was talking to me, I stay silent. Mrs. Wittmer scowled at him before moving on to find another student who was done. I shifted in my seat, keeping my eyes cast down. My back felt as if someone had set it on fire at this point.
Nolan and Brenda returned to writing, but Maven watched me studiously. I was growing impatient with him. He never seemed to get the point of silence. He never got the point of carelessness. His page was blank before him, yet he was concentrated on me. His silver eyes were squinted in a way that was making me uncomfortable.
I couldn’t bear it anymore. Raising my hand, I waited for Mrs. Wittmer to call on me. I rubbed my back while I waited. Not only was it in an attempt to ease the pain, but to make sure I wasn’t bleeding. An eternity later, she finally called on me.
“May I go to the bathroom?” I asked her softly. Just loud enough she could hear it.
“You may,” she replied. She turned her eyes to Maven, brown depths lighting up. “Yes, Mr. Verascue?”
“I need to get something from my locker.”
She nodded. I assumed she wasn’t actually listening since she didn’t ask us for passes, but I was still aggravated Maven would follow me out of the classroom. Slowly standing upright, I lead myself out of the room. It was painful to walk. The scabs near my hips were bending in not so comfortable ways.
What was more annoying was that Maven could see the storm brewing inside me, and asked about it. “What’s up with you?”
I didn’t bother to answer. I didn’t feel a need to defend myself in any other way but silence. I walked past the lockers. After all, the bathrooms were at the end of the hallway, not the beginning. Yet, Maven was still following me. I felt an overwhelming sense of unease as I quickened my pace.
Entering the girl’s bathroom, I was aware of him hovering at the entrance. Sighing, I sat down on the edge of the countertop. Reaching up, I pulled the sleeve of my shirt over my shoulder. That was where the brunt of the pain was. Though it didn’t look half as bad as the other marks on my skin, it was still awful to look at. I focused on it.
I suddenly heard a gasp. I froze, unsure what to do. I didn’t expect him to have the guts to actually come into the ladies room. Finally regaining my senses, I growl, “What are you doing, Maven?”