When Gold Falls

03

THERE IS ONLY ONE CAR in the driveway when I get home and it was the very same car that I was supposed to be picked up in.

It had been sitting here all along before it had rained too. I know because underneath the car is completely dry, not a single drop to be seen. Not the light and gentle sprinkles that would dance on my skin in warning that the worst was about to come.

And it had but my mom hadn't.

Hundreds of little colds balls of water dripped off my shivering body while my teeth uncontrollably chattered. My feet squished in the flats which rubbed at the rawness of my heels, leaving blisters in its wake.

The wooden porch creeks under my weight and the sound follows me all the way to the door.

The porch had only been built a little over a year ago but that didn't stop the wood from splitting or the wood bleaching the life out of it. It only meant one thing: just because my parents were wealthy didn't mean they were handy too.

My parents weren't the kind of people to sit on their hands and watch something get done. They were the kind of people that would get off their butts and do it when they said they would. Which is exactly how the porch got built. Mostly because they were too stubborn to admit they needed help. Either way, it gained a lot of respect from the town.

Unfortunately, they never cared whether or not if they had mine.

The storm door slams shut behind me, echoing off the walls. The warmth hugged my skin and despite still shivering it was a good feeling. I set my wet bag down by the door and peel off my shoes just to see how bad my blisters were.

There was dry blood on the back of my heels but somehow seeing it made me feel a little better.

I let myself linger near the doorway a little longer than I should. I know that my mom isn't going to pop out of anywhere and ask me about my day. She's probably in the art studio on the fourth floor above where she spends most of her time pretending she doesn't have a daughter.

The usual.

A sigh escapes my lips as I lean down to pick up my soggy bag from the ground and I yelp out loud in pain. A dramatic part of me wants to collapse on the floor and cry. Cry until my head hurts more than my back. Cry until I lose my voice. Just cry.

The other part yells at me to stop being a drama queen. That won't stop the pain that I feel. Physically and mentally. It won't make my boyfriend any gentler or me any more bearable to my friends. It won't make my parents glance in my direction longer than a second.

So I trudge up the stairs with a heavy heart and a foggy mind unable to see the shadow of the sun or the strings of light that sometimes peak out of the clouds right after the ending of a bad storm.

It still feels as though I'm stuck walking in the cold and wet rain with frost in my hair and stingy, bright red ears.

That's not the first time and it definitely isn't the last. It's a never-ending loop and all I want is for it to stop.

I just need it to stop.

I push open my door, fighting the cold air as I push through my room. The light shines through the glass slide door on my opposite side that leads to a small balcony. I quickly reach for the curtain and pull it with me to my left as a cloak of darkness surrounds me.