Unlock the Past

Chapter 5

Above are Chloe's parents.:)

I wake to the sound of a piercing scream. Only to realize that it's me. The wind that's blowing through my bedroom window on the left wall. It sends chills to select spots on my face. I bring my hand up to feel my skin freshly cried all over.

It happened again.

The hospital released me three days ago and every night since I've been woken up by nightmares.

I won't take the pills that the doctor prescribed to me after I'd woken up in the same position at the hospital the first night I slept without being induced.

"Chloe!?" Brandon comes rushing into my room with a giant baseball bat. His eyes are wide and awake. Surprising, considering it's three in the morning. "Nightmares again?" I nod in response.

I still haven't responded to any of their questions. Only giving an occasional nod when an answer was really needed.

My parents have been getting frustrated. I can tell.

Whenever my mom gets really annoyed or put off by something, she grinds her teeth and bounces her knee.

My father just stops talking. He begins to look like he's trying to discover the world. When really, he's just afraid of losing himself. And yelling at me.

"Chloe? Do you want me to stay in here?" I shake my head again. I can't let him lose his sleep over me. "Um. Okay. If you say so. If you need me I'll be in my room." He turns on his heels and sleepily walks back to his room.

"Sweetheart?" I jump when I hear my mother. Not even realizing she came in. Her petite frame was wrapped in a light pink bath robe and her feet were stuffed in similar slippers. Her worn out face scrunched up in concern. "Do you want to take some of the medicine?" I shake my head. "Sweetie, it's so hard for your father and I to see you like this. We just got you back. Please talk to us. We miss your voice. And I miss our conversations and our laughter. And baking cookies. Please just say something. Anything."

This isn't the first time she's asked me to speak. This isn't the first time she's brought up the past. I shake my head again.

Her head bows. Her shoulders slumps. It was like I had just put the entire world onto her back.

The pain strikes my heart. But I conceal it quickly. Not dwelling on it. But instead. I pull out one of my old sketch books and start to draw.

I draw everything.

Things from breakfast with my family, to the tools that he used to cause me so much searing pain while I was gone. It still hurts. But I don't draw him, if anyone were to find the picture I would have to confront him again, and I don't think I could survive that.

Not in the physical way though. Though I can almost feel the ropes burn on my wrists. I can almost feel the leather as it slashes another layer on skin off. I can feel my hair being ripped out like ripping a pice of fabric. But when he did it. It was almost like it was as easy as ripping paper.

I let out all of my frustration in drawing. And finally, when my hand can't take it no more. I stop and place my notebook back underneath my bed. Where no one can find it.

Instead of cool wind flowing through the window. There are sun rays stretched out like arms. Welcoming my return from inside my dark head.

I quickly get up and walk to my window. I have a little bench, surrounded by books and pieces of paper. But it was the perfect spot. I get to look out to the street in front of my house.

We live in a really nice neighborhood. The cliche kind of nice though. White picket fences and earth toned houses line the street.

I let myself feel the earth surround me. Hear the birds chirping. Feel the slight summer breeze. I open my eyes and look down.

I gasp and place a hand on my heart. Dark mossy green eyes stare back at me in amazement. I can't believe I remember him. The way his black hair swooped up perfectly. The way his toned sun kissed skin seemed to challenge even the gods.

Standing in front of my house was no other then the love of my life.

Ashton Wilkins.