Dreams

Two

There is a point in life when children realize the truth about how things really are in world they live in. They start to see how unfair life can be, and how horrible the world really is. They turn on the news, to see how much bad people there are in the world. Seeing how many are starving, and suffering. There are murderers, rapists, thieves. There are wars, natural disasters, death. There are so many bad things.

The moment you realize that these terrible things exist, you begin to question yourself and everything you once believed in. Parents lie. Love dies. Best friends leave.

It's a dose of reality. Once you realize these things, life is never the same.

I cannot pin point the exact moment it happened to me, but I know that I hate it. I hate the lack of happily ever after. I hate the way things work. I want to be in a world that isn't bound by these stupid rules.

This is what I think about as I stare at myself in the mirror with my head still pounding like a heartbeat. I look like a mess; my hair in tangles, my eyes red and puffy. My throat dry and hoarse and my pillows wet from my crying.

My mind goes back to a simpler time. I see myself wearing a pink dress, with ribbons around my waist and a sparkly skirt. Mom brushes my hair and fixes my princess crown. Dad sits on the chair I decorated with stickers, holding a broom, his kingly scepter.

"King Daddy!" the little girl yells, right before a big yawn.

"Looks like the princess needs to sleep," the king says, "Let the king take you to bed." He carries her up high, and the queen gives him a disapproving look through the kitchen counter.

The memory disappears, and I begin to wonder if that look meant much more. Did Mom and Dad dislike each other all the way then?

It doesn't matter, you can't change things.

"You're right," I say, as I stare at the hideous creature in the mirror. I slap myself. "Pull yourself together." I hop into the shower, to get rid of the bad hair and the stickiness from sweat mixing with tears. I put on the comfiest pair of pajamas and try to relax.

Relaxation doesn't happen. My stomach grumbles, and I look at the clock. 6:00 pm. How long did I cry? I remember that I hardly ate breakfast, and that I spilled my coffee before I could even drink half of it. For a brief moment, I consider putting dinner off. Am I ready to face them?

My stomach growls again, much louder this time. Okay, okay. Guess I have no choice.

I tip toe downstairs, making as minimal noise as possible. Years of doing this has made me an expert.

But I realize once I'm down that I did not need to sneak. The new kind of quiet can only mean they're gone. They didn't even tell me.

They probably did, but you were too busy crying.

I'm about to open up a pack of instant noodles when I notice the light on the rice cooker. If they cooked rice.... I look around and find it, a plate with a bowl placed down to cover the insides. A yellow sticky note rests above it.

"They left me dinner. Thoughtful."

I read the note.

Amelia,

Your dad is at work, and I had to go somewhere unexpectedly. If there are any problems, you know both our numbers. I cooked you your favorite. Don't bother cleaning the dishes, I'll take care of them.

P.S. I'm very sorry you had to witness what you saw earlier. We'll talk more when I get home.

Mom