Restless Soul

7

   Amanda had calmed down soon thereafter. Her hands were hidden in the cave of her sleeves, occasionally peeking out when she picked her nails. With an uncertain voice, she told her mother all she could remember. Her night was a chaotic blur and the pieces she laid on the table enabled a multitude of questions to remain unanswered.

"Is he your boyfriend?" Sheryl queried at the mention of Steven.

   Amanda bit back telling her about Peyton. The Opper family and the Smiths never saw eye to eye. As the most important groups of the town, the Oppers had the fortune, while the Smiths had the power. However, money is also power, therefore their influence was deeply rooted in the history of Milton Oaks, and that was something Sheryl had always been envious of.

"No. He... I just hear him in my dreams sometimes."

"Right," Sheryl paused, uncrossing her legs before looking back at Amanda, "You still have those dreams?"

Amanda's gaze fell as she reminisced on all the times she woke up in a cold sweat, heart thumping in relief when she'd recognize the room that she was in. If it wasn't for her observant nature, Sheryl would've probably missed the very subtle nod that she answered with, "I see," she said, sighing.

Amanda recognized the exasperation in her tone, "You don't believe me?" she almost scoffed, wanting to laugh at herself for thinking her mother of all people would understand.

Sheryl tilted her head. She focused on the red of her hair, extending a hand to caress the strands between her fingers, "As much as I'd like to, you admitted that things don't even make the least bit of sense to you. This could all be a part of your imagination. Just like everything else."

   She looked down in shame. Over the years, the most she was ever able to get her mother to understand was that she had a troubled sleeping pattern, which then led to her prescription of sleeping pills. That didn't ease her turmoil, however, only it made it harder for her to wake up from the night terrors.

"Did you have anything to drink at the party?"

Amanda thought about it for a moment but eventually came up with no concrete answer, "I... I'm not sure." 

   Sheryl's jaw drew tight, her impatience surging through the surface. As if Amanda hadn't caused enough trouble with her little stunt, she now had to be uncooperative. Due to her behavior, the townies had always suspected her of substance abuse. If her slurred speech on stage wasn't been enough to raise suspicions, showing up naked to school would definitely do the trick.

This matter had to be contained, fast.

   Getting up, Sheryl passed back and forth before her bed. Amanda rarely saw her mother so quiet. She was calculated, but would always speak her plans into action. Her silence now only meant one thing, she had no clue what to do. 

   The glossy black hills clicked against the floor in a rhythmic pattern. Apart from the very subtle tik-ticks of the clock, the room was silent. Then came the sudden buzzing, pulling both Sheryl and Amanda away from the soothing sound. On the floor, Amanda's phone vibrated. A waterfall of colors underneath the cracked screen. 

   Their gaze locked on the device, watching it seize against the ground. When the noise stopped, Amanda looked up at her mother. Her attention remained on the phone. Sheryl could feel her eyes on her. She could picture the question in them, lost as she tried to figure her out. 

Without saying a word, Sheryl walked to the door. Shooting her daughter a final look, she smiled a sympathetic grin, "I'm going to make sure you get the help you need."

   Amanda watched the door close behind her, the click seemingly sealing her fate. She didn't know what to make of what just happened. But her mother was right, she was in dire need of help. She only hoped that her father didn't know of her situation. The whole she dug for herself may be shallow, so close to the surface wet seemingly so hard to crawl out of. The last thing she wanted was for the only person that ever treated her with love and care to see her as a disappointment.

Outside, the day turned into night. Amanda remained curled underneath her blanket, ignoring the rumbling of her stomach and the tightness in her throat.

"Your mother prepared this for you," Miriam, their maid of thirteen years, said as she placed the tray of food on her dresser.

   The dark-haired woman looked at her with concern and worry. Amanda didn't budge, her eyes focused on the surface of the pillow, ignoring the fact that she getting closer. When her gaze shifted, Miriam knew she'd come too close. Having looked after Amanda for thirteen years, she'd witnessed the changes as slowly as they appeared. There was a time when Amanda was all smiles and carefree. Those days, she'd pop into the kitchen, watching with full attention as she'd prepare the various foods that'd then be served and complemented by every guest to ever get a taste.

   Miriam sighed at the old memories. That girl was lost a long time ago. It pained her that she couldn't do much about it. She was never good at giving pep talks. Rather it was their interactions and Amanda's energy that made their bond special. Now... there wasn't much to fight for, and if there was, she had no clue how to do it.

   The minutes turned into hours and eventually, Amanda yearned for sleep. She didn't care that her slumber would be disturbed. She longed for a few minutes away from reality. As horrible as her nightmares were, they remained just that.

   As she pushed herself to sit up, her body tingled in a long-awaited release. Having spent hours in the same position had put a strain on her muscles. When she rose to her feet, her articulations popped as she stretched out her limbs. She then walked over to the tray, staring down at the now cold grilled cheese sandwiches. The slice down the middle indicated her mother's doing. She couldn't bring this down untouched. Not to mention she was still hungry.

Taking a few bites, she washed it down with the orange juice and walked down to the kitchen.

   The house was quiet. It usually was when her father was away. It never bothered her before, but tonight, every footstep seemed to be accompanied by hushed whispers. She didn't think too deep into it, quickly throwing away what remained of her afternoon snack.

"Did you enjoy your meal?"

Amanda gasped in surprise. The plate fell into the sink in a loud crash, scaring her twice as much. Sheryl kept her composure, silently waiting for an answer, "I ate what I could. Didn't feel that hungry," Amanda said.

Sheryl raised her chin in a silent hum.

Amanda blinked nervously, "I- I- I mean I... Thank you... anyway."

Sheryl only nodded before clasping her hands together while turning her back towards her, "Get some rest."

Amanda wished the same. After such a horrid day, being blessed with a good night's rest would be a God-sent. 

   Making her way up the staircase, her feet felt heavier. Upon noticing, she held onto the wall, suddenly a little woozy. A smile cracked on her face. Maybe she'd be able to get some rest after all. With all her might, she walked herself in direction of her bedroom. Each step was its own mountain, the challenge in her walk clear to even Sheryl, who was eying her from the slime crease between her doors. With her phone against her ear, she listened to the soft ringing until it was interrupted by the voice of the man she'd been hesitant to contact.

"I need this to stay on the low," she began.

The man let out a chuckle, "You came to the right person."

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