Irene, My dead best friend [Wattys 2015]

Chapter 23: Trip down memory lane

Chapter 23: Trip down memory lane

“What do I do now?

I didn't think my heart could break any more than it already has.

The pieces still inside of me feel like broken glass.

Every time I take a breath, they stab into me.

It never ends....” 
― H.M. Ward

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The ride back from the darkness was much calmer. I was not falling anymore, it was more of a gentle float through a black abyss which thankfully did not have my heart pounding in my chest. I however, was preoccupied in thought.

The site of Irene’s supposed father walking in after her while removing his belt was etched in my mind. The cracking sound of his belt striking her was stuck in my head like a player jammed on repeat. The thought of Irene having to bear all that not so long ago, considering she looked not that much younger in her memory, broke my heart. She had had a troubled childhood and instead of having solace from her sister, Rosalyn only seemed to aggravate things.

 I had always thought having a sibling would have made my life more fun, I would have enjoyed things. I had always secretly felt sad that my mom never could have another baby but I never said anything to her, it was bad enough she took it so harshly herself. However, seeing Irene’s memory dramatically changed my mind. If this is what having sibling's did to you, I didn’t want any. The entire situation also explained why Irene looked so freaked all the time. I had no idea what to think of her mother but what I had seen of the remaining members of her family, I held no good thoughts about her either.

My floating in this empty abyss slowed down a lot more as my lost thoughts were answered. I was getting a bonus memory from Irene this time, I wasn’t back to reality yet. A distant part of my brain worried about the centaurs finding us in the forest, not sure of what my body was doing back in the woods, but I pushed the thought further back in my mind. I was more interested in looking at what Irene had to show me, perhaps it would clarify why her family treated her the way that they did.

The darkness around me gradually changed color and momentum. The darkness what taking on a much lighter intensity, leading up to an orange light, and just like that I was standing in the middle of a room illuminated a light orange color by candle light. Turns out, I was seeing this memory through Irene’s eyes because I was nowhere in sight, but there stood Irene, in front of a floor length mirror, her dress pulled down slightly from her shoulders. Her thin, cream colored shoulders were streaked with red and blue rectangular bruises, now fading away slightly. My vision got blurry as I realized Irene was crying. Arms came up all of a sudden as she quickly pulled up her dress onto her shoulders and buttoned it in place. She wiped her tears away from her face furiously, as I felt a resolve run through her body; she didn’t want to be caught crying.

My vision faded into blackness again for a millisecond and then back to morning light. I was lying on a bed, staring up at a stark white ceiling. I could hear birds chirping on my right hand side, causing me to look up. There was a red Robin, absolutely beautiful, sitting on my window sill but instead of feeling happy or delighted at its presence, all I felt was unhappiness. I looked away from the window and back at the ceiling, raising my hands up, drawing shapes in the air. Scrawny hands drew flowers into nothingness as I realized, I was still in Irene’s body and memory. She was showing me things from her perspective, again.

The door to the left of my room opened then, and a stout woman, the same size as Irene’s father, dressed in a dark blue dress with small, pink bows on it walked in with her hands on her hips.