Summer Camp

p r o l o g u e

Prologue

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"For living in the past, makes you miss the present."

-

My fingers moved scarcely against the old oak wood, tracing along the deeply carved initials, the feel of them underneath my fingertips rough and defined.

They seemed ancient; a lost memory only found to be forgotten again. The time they had been made seemed like another lifetime ago, which, in some ways, it had been.

"You did this... This is all your fault. Think of her! Oh God think of her. Can you imagine it? Do you see her? Do you fucking see her?! All of this... It's your doing. This is all your fault! You wanted this shit to happen!"

I swallowed as if everything I was feeling would just follow obediently, breathing deeply to calm myself, and squeezed my eyes shut, barely keeping the burning tears away. I knew if I started crying, I wouldn't be able to stop. I'd have to pry open the bottle I carried around and pour all of its contents out. And I knew if I did so, I would drown.

The words still rang in my ears; faint, but always there, lurking, casting a shadow over me.

I stared in sadness at the card box in my arms, that contained so much memorabilia - some of which reminded me of things that were bad, good, or neither - which seemed to be getting heavier each fleeting second, as if the everlasting sadness and guilt I felt made it gain weight by wrapping the chains of my sorrow around it, like they did my heart.

I took one last heavyhearted glance at my former pink room - there had been a time in which I had been glad for that old, beautiful memory - and turned away. This had been my home for the last 16 years after all. It was hard to say goodbye, even though the truth was, that a part of me was relieved to be leaving. Maybe things would get better then; maybe I would get better.

I tore my gaze from the now empty walls in the hallway and made my way down the old creaking stairway.

"Good morning." My mom beamed at me and took the box out of my arms, a picture peeking out of it that sent a pang of pain through me. I avoided her gaze.

Instead I stared at the kitchen table, taking a seat and pulling the plate set aside on the counter towards me, digging into the fried eggs which she had probably prepared earlier this morning.

"Let's just get this over with," I mumbled. Her smile faded, a tired look overtaking. She had given up on talking to me. I refused to. "I'll be waiting outside," she murmured quietly, a small frown on her face - almost as if a small shy girl - and left. It hurt seeing her like that and I wanted to say something, comfort her, but I didn't.

I looked around, observing and memorizing every little detail.

Take a picture. It lasts longer, a voice I would never be able to hear again said in my mind. I swallowed hard.

I closed my eyes, my whole life practically replaying. I decided, that no matter what had occured here, I would miss this place. It was a part of who I was, no matter how hard I tried to run and hide from it. The decisions, the memories and the things that had happened here would always be with me, shaping me, influencing everything I did. I had to accept what had happened here and move on. Even though that seemed so close to impossible.

It was like I was fighting with myself, trying to determine a winner. But how could there be one, when they were supposed to be on the same side, fighting for the same goal?

After all, this place was all I had left of them. All I had left to hold onto, all I had left of my former happiness.

What I feared the most though was to forget. Would I really if I left? Would they really slip out of my mind and thoughts forever? Would they fade, but still haunt me when I slept at night or even when I was wide awake? Maybe I'd hear her laugh in the roar of passing cars or maybe I'd see his face in the corner of my eye. Maybe I'd dream of seeing him again. That would truly be hell. To see the people I loved haunt me, blame me.

Would the guilt find me again, never letting me truly be happy? Could I move on? Did I even want to?

The sad part was I didn't know. I was lost in a never-ending maze. I was clueless, wandering around, passing the time however possible.

I was so clueless to what I was doing, to what I wanted and to... who I was. The uncertainty, the unknown, it was a monster, feeding off my cluelessness.

I wanted to scream in frustration. Everything used to be so clear, so sure. I used to know what I wanted to do with my life, who I wanted to be.

So many unanswered questions swirled inside me, repeating and not letting me rest. Always lingering, always stirring in the pit of my stomach. It was a feeling I couldn't bear.

So, I stood up and left.

Sometimes one has to hide from their problems, in order to build the courage one needed to face them.

It was that time you needed to heal and recover, before you went into the last battle.

And I knew that in order to face my own battle I had to come to terms with the fact that it had been my fault. But, I couldn't do it here. Not here where the memories were all so present, so strong, so consuming.

The big question now was:

Could I do it t h e r e?