The perfect storm in a quiet room

Chapter 17

I close my eyes and visualize a little innocent girl running into her father's arms. A smile breaks out on her face as she approaches the man, who is smiling at her too. The little girl finally reaches him and he lifts her up. He gives her a warm hug. A hug that represents the love he felt for his little girl.

That kind of love, was the love she thought would last forever, but she was so innocent that she didn't know that in the future, many years later, that perfect life she had been blessed with, would completely fade away.

The memory of that little girl, of me as a child, generates a stabbing pain in my chest. An unbearable and sharp pain that I hadn't had in months. A pain I hoped I would never feel again, but that seems inevitable right now. The memory of that damned man affects, despite the efforts I made to push him away from my mind.

I get up from the floor, and dry my tears with the sleeve of the jacket I borrowed from my mom's closet. I grab a pack of tissues from her dresser and wipe my nose. I sit back down on the bed, and take the gift in my hands again. How the fuck did a fucking gift affect me so much? I can't react like this over this shit. I thought those stupid assholes of my classmates at the old school had taken it upon themselves to break everything left in me, leaving me with no feelings. I thought nothing could bother me anymore once I had learned how to live with their constant teasing and mistreatment. But I was wrong, I didn't learn shit and this proves it.

I throw the package against the window, with all the force that the anger and the pain allow me. It hits against the glass of the window, and makes a thud that echoes throughout the room, and I dare say, the whole house. Good thing I didn't break anything. If I had, my mom would have grounded me until I was twenty-five.

I leave the room, leaving the gift lying around. I don't give a shit if my mom sees that the package is ripped and that it's clear someone opened it. I know she's going to bombard me with questions and maybe she will even punish me, but at this point, I couldn't care less about that.

Once I'm in my room, a little calmer, I lie down on my bed; face up. I look at the ceiling and I can't help but bring back memories of my childhood. It's a fucking torture and I can't take it anymore. If I don't stop thinking about my dad and everything that happened, I'm going to cry again and I've already made a huge sacrifice to calm down. I need to distract myself, so I grab the book I left half-read at the ice cream shop and dive right into Tessa and Hardin's love story.

***

"Hi sweety," says a voice next to me.

I open my eyes and find the face of... him. He's sitting in a chair, looking at me while I'm lying on the couch in a beautiful, unfamiliar living room.

"What... what... what... what are you doing here?" I manage to ask him, astonished at his presence, as I sit up.

"I came to see you; I missed you," he answers with a sweet smile.

My heart starts pounding and anxiety and uncertainty take over me. Why is he telling me these things? Is he trying to torment me and play with me? After what happened I don't think I'm up for this shit.

"No, it's not true. You don't miss me, you can't miss me after what you did to me.

If you really missed me, you would have never left."

Tears threaten to spill from my eyes, but I hold them back—the last thing I need is for this man to see me cry. I have to be strong, whatever it takes.

"Hanny..." he starts saying, calling me by the nickname he gave me when I was little, "you know I do miss you and I'm telling you the truth," finishes saying the man who I thought loved me, while he caresses my cheek.

A shiver runs through my body when I feel his touch and I pull away. I don't know what he wants from me.

"Get away from me, now," I demand.

"Hanny, don't be like that. You know it's your mom's fault that I'm gone, not mine."

***

The ringtone of my cell phone wakes me up. I open my eyes and sit up, dropping the book I was reading on the floor. I feel agitated and my heart beats very fast. I touch my neck and back and my fingers end up soaked in sweat. What the fuck just happened?

The cell phone stops ringing, and I reach out to grab it from the bedside table. It was a missed call from Casy—well, not just one, twenty more. Why did she call me so many times? Did something happen?

Remembering absolutely nothing and more confused than ever, I press the little green phone icon and call Casy. After two beeps she answers:

"Hannah! Finally! Where have you been? I've been calling you for half an hour! We were supposed to meet at five o'clock, did you forget it?" Casy shouts, which makes my head hurt.

I rub my eyes and pull my cell phone away from my ear so I can see the time. Six o'clock in the evening. Fuck. I'd completely forgotten that we'd arranged to meet at five. I didn't even remember that we'd arranged to meet up to do something. Shit, shit, shit, shit.

I get out of bed and see myself dressed in my mom's clothes and that's when I remember. I was going out with Casy! I was going to go to her house! God I'm so stupid.

"Eh... yeah, sorry... it's just that..." I start to say, trying to find a quick excuse to justify not answering her calls, but I can't think of any. "Give me an hour, please. Can we meet at seven?"

She lets out a sigh on the other end of the line. Is she angry? I didn't mean to upset her, but I can't explain everything about my dad over the phone and I don't even know if I want to tell her at all. She doesn't want to tell me certain things and I respect that—so she should do the same with me.

"Yes, that's fine. Come to my house at seven, but don't be late this time!" she says, shouting at me. She does seem angry...

Before I can thank her and say goodbye, she hangs up. I push the cell phone away from my face and stare at the black screen. What was that attitude? She can't be mad at me for something as stupid as this. Yes, I forgot about our meeting this afternoon and didn't answer her calls until sex p.m., but sometimes these things happen, don't they? Besides, she's the last person who can be mad at me.

I keep checking my phone and I see that I have several messages from my mom, saying that she's going to be late again. On the one hand this works in my favor, since this way I don't have to think of any excuses to go out with Casy, but on the other hand it worries me. I feel like there's something very obvious I'm missing and I don't know what it is. Anyhow, I'd rather not keep thinking about it, not today at least. I need to clear my mind, even if it's just for a moment.

I leave my room and go into the bathroom. I need to take a bath and change again. Fuck. I look like shit; my hair is all sticky from the sweat on my neck and forehead; and my makeup now is all smeared. And if that wasn't enough, the bruise on my forehead is getting worse and worse, which means I'm going to have to use even more makeup to cover it up. Great.

I turn on the cold water faucet in the bathroom sink and wet my face, trying to wake myself up. What happened? I can't remember what exactly was that upset me. I just remember reading After and the phone call I just had with Casy. I don't even remember falling asleep. Did I have a nightmare? That seems to be the most logical explanation, but I don't remember any of it, which on the one hand is a relief—it's better not to remember nightmares. On the other hand, though, I feel stupid for having forgotten something I dreamt myself. Maybe it's for the best, though—I don't want to think about anything that can distress me—I've already shed too many tears to keep on doing it.

I turn on the cold water in the shower and undress, tossing my clothes to the floor. I step into the shower and close my eyes, making an effort to concentrate only on the sound of the drops of cold water hitting my shoulders and head; and sliding down every part of my body until they hit the floor. For a moment I manage to keep my mind blank, free of any thoughts and problems, and for the first time in several hours I feel relaxed, free and at peace.