Solislunar

Chapter One

People have been sending me angry texts all day, and it's pissing me off.  Dad yells because of chores I have to do (even though I haven't been home all day, and I do ALL of the chores), and Mom yells because she thinks I drank her booze, which I did, a little, but she's blaming me for the empty bottles, which wasn't me, I swear. And then there's C.K., my newly-made ex boyfriend, who I dumped because he thinks he owns me (he doesn't), and so he's been screaming at me and calling me, and i'm just over it. "Give me that," K.C., my BFF says, grabbing my phone from my hands. "You don't need this shit, Sol. C'mon, let's get coffee. I am EXHAUSTED!" she finishes, steering me towards town. I don't argue, because honestly? I'm dead-ass tired. 

In town, we go by our favorite spot, Nothing Before Coffee, and while we order, I can't help but wonder; What happened to make me forget?

K.C. has already gone home, and I am dreading walking through the door. If Mom isn't home, I have to face Dad alone. But if Mom is home, too, I have to face them both. Fuck my life. I round the corner, and sure enough, Mom's shitty ass car is gone. I brace myself as I walk through the door, the hands pinning me to the wall not even a surprise anymore. Dad's breath reeks of beer and meth, and he had slammed me against the wall so hard the old family picture almost fell. Almost. I can never be lucky enough for it to break, though I wish it would. It's not the real Harper family. Dad's hands rove over my chest, my hips, and I have to clench my fists in my skirt to keep from hitting him. Last time, he through me out of my window.  But last time, he had also gotten handsy.  "Dad, remember last time?" I warn, and his hands tighten on my hips. "Watch your mouth, bitch." he says, but lets me go anyway. I sigh, slumping against the wall in relief, and reach for my phone.  What the fuck... it's not in my pocket! I search my other pockets. Gone. Along with my knife, and  about six grand's worth of weed. I growl. That rat bastard. Oh well, I'll get back at him eventually. What he doesn't know is I have several burner phones, and extra knives hidden on my person, and one nasty-looking blade in my boot. 

When I get to my room after an hour-long shower, I get tired of waiting for K.C., so I turn my stereo on, cranking the volume up. My favorite song comes on, and I grab my music box. In the false bottom, I have hidden four joints, a lighter, and a knife. I spark up, taking a few drags before I let the knife bite down, before I press harder as an image of my dad's hands on my flashes into my mind. Soon, after half the blunt is gone, the pain is dulled. I have several other cuts along my arms, and I sit back and listen to my music.  But soon, confusion sets in. My focus keeps sliding in and out, and I look down at my wrist. It's pouring blood, and I think, Oh shit, before my limbs go weak and it takes all my strength to drag my head to the side. Silver spots burst across my vision, and suddenly everything is distorted-sounding, like i'm underwater. 

Talk that trash............Cock my Uzi...............Bitch I'll end your.........

I try to get out of bed, to call for help, but I fall, and that's all I remember feeling or seeing. I hear banging, and then distorted shouting, but then everything goes black. 

I'm falling. I don't know how I know, but I'm falling. Is this death? Am I dead? But I thought death was peaceful, quiet, dark. Painless. This is none of those things. It's mostly black, but flashes of color swirl around me, and it's loud. I'm in a horrible amount of pain. It's almost unbearable. Wait....am I falling...up?!

I wake up to beeping. When I open my eyes, I immediately have to close them back. The light is blinding. "You fool," a voice beside me says, one I recognize. I open my eyes again, let them adjust to the light, and sit up. Or at least, I try to, but my body is weak. I finally manage to sit up, and, of course, K.C. is beside me, tear tracks staining her cheeks.  She has blood on her fingernails, and come on her face. Probably my blood. "You couldn't have waited, could you? You should have known better then to smoke when you're mad. What the fuck happened to make you angry?" she asks, and I tell her everything, from C.K., to Dad, to life. She hugs me, as best she can, and brings me water. I hate what I've put her through. This is the second time I've almost died from blood loss, K.C. covered in my life force. The first time was when I was thirteen...

We had been riding our bikes, K.C. and me, from the store to her house, only a couple blocks apart. Our handlebars were overloaded with bags of goodies, which we were going to eat at our sleepover. There was yelling, and bright lights, and I felt my bike come out from under me... Then all I remember after that was bits and pieces of stuff I picked up while shifting in and out of consciousness. K.C. kneeling over me, covered in my blood, letting out a piercing, keening wail, then an ambulance ride, then frantic voices..... and then nothing, until I woke up a week and a half later, my body broken, and most of my memory gone. K.C. had stayed with me for two months, only stepping away when she had to use the bathroom, or shower, and she showered as little as possible.  I know nothing of my life before the accident, and my parents, if they can even be called that, never took much care to take photos of me when I was little. I sit back now, in the same hospital I was in at age thirteen, and close my eyes. Soon, sleep takes over, and I'm wrapped in a blanket of darkness.