Lumai's Mind

Chapter 9: Like A Golf Ball

When I got back to the house I grew up in, nothing was different. I still had that small sense of paranoia lurking in my mind but was able to brush it off now I knew it was just the stranger whoring around. I got to my room and looked around like it was the first time seeing it.

The same single bed with blue and grey covers was under the window I once escaped through. The wardrobe still crouched of at the corner with an assortment of tributes for my childhood. Their was still a basket for dirty clothes at the foot of my bed and the little bed side table with a single draw and lamp was in the same place. It was all so familiar.

Then why did it feel wrong to be here?

It was all part of the illusion.

The illusion... I'm being sent off to live with more strangers. Family is everything, what a load of shit.

For an hour or two I just sat there and, like usual, drew wings with small variations. These ones had flames, those ones had a fox's body, that one was in a mirror. I drew an drew until the door opened and footsteps trudged up the stairs, down the hallway then stopped in front of my door.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

You could hear the hinges trying to open and the lock rattle inside the frame as the three hefty thumps pounded my door. "Pack your things, the social worker will be here tomorrow morning." I felt my throat close up and my eyes grew glassy. He wasn't here, there was nothing to distract me from my heart breaking anymore.

I could sure feel the cracks, each one bigger then the last. If it broke so would the dam holding back my tears. She was my mum once, she would play hide and seek with me, cook with me, talk with me. Now I think of it, her smile always seemed strained, her laugh was hollow and her happiness was exaggerated. But she was still my best friend for years, even if it wasn't real for her, it was real for me.

I saw her everyday of my life. I talked to her most mornings since I could speak. I came home from school babbling about what I'd learned and she'd listen. It was all an act.

Someone give her an Oscar.

Not now, I'm taking a hammer to my own dam. I can't afford distraction that'll make me lose my mojo.

To late, besides that was a helpful comment until you ruined it.

That's right. I ruined it, I ruined everything. They kept a child they hated and pretended they loved her for nearly twelve years when they could've sent her to foster. They might be unloyal to each other but they were trying to let me live normally when I was nothing but a burden to them.

I ruined it. They were being selfless but I broke them down. Pushed too many buttons, played too many games, cried wolf too many times. It's all my fault. A sickening crack sounded in my mind, a crack only I could hear. My heart broke, the dam broke with it.

I sat their sobbing and cradling my stomach. Pitiful, incoherent mumbling sobs struggled out of my sore throat. Tears flowing down my face like waterfalls.

Waterfalls... Most see them as wonder, strength and beauty. A waterfall is a wailing river, thundering away from the mountain that broke its heart. Leaving behind pools of pain until it gets to the sea where it can hide beneath waves and currents. Hide and nurture it's shatters heart. Waterfalls that only salmon dare swim through.

I had stopped crying by now and was just staring into space as I theorized the story of wailing waters. In school we learned about water changing shape because of vibes. When your mean to water it's crystals become mangled and the water gets unhealthy, if you sing nicely to it then it's crystals are like beautiful snowflakes. Humans are over 70% water apparently, so if I sung happy songs then my water would be healthy and happy, not a contained waterfall.