Loving Ashlynn (#Wattys2016)

Chapter 35 - Happy to See Me (Faith POV) Pt. 4

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Chapter 35 – Happy to See Me (Faith POV) Pt. 4

In truth I had never thought of Cynthia the way that Imogen had mentioned, I was too busy trying to figure out what memories were real and which were in fact false. But after our trip, throughout the whole week I was constantly lost in my own head wondering why she had acted the way she did. And with each growing moment, each thought that passed, my anger grew.

Whoever Wyatt was, he had lied to Cynthia, for whatever reason, she had abandoned me. It wasn't that she was separated from me, I could clearly remember us being locked away together, I could remember her saying words, and the concrete turning into sandy chalk. She crawled out of the hole, left me holding Andy, and when she was out, when she had gotten into the air that was poisonous without a suit on, she told me to lift Andy to her, that I could come after.

When I did just as she asked, when I pushed Andy up into her arms, she didn't pull me out next, in fact she began mumbling the words again, words I couldn't understand and she held Andy in one hand, and used the other to cover the hole, to push the chalk back in place. Until it wasn't chalk anymore, it was concrete, it was hard and the hole she used to escape was covered, and I was left alone. Enduring her beatings for leaving – escaping.

"Are you okay?" Samson stopped, my hand in his as we walked to the school from his car on Friday, pulling me from my thoughts. He had asked many times since I returned from shopping with Imogen, but the truth was I couldn't exactly put into words how I was feeling. I had snuck down to the family room, remembering that Samson said there were pictures of Cynthia at her wedding to Danny – his uncle. That night after shopping with Imogen, I waited until the middle of the night, not wanting to go down there, but wanting to see. I had already decided that it wouldn't change how I felt, but it had when I spoke with Imogen.

It wasn't that I was mad she didn't keep me; it was that she left me in that place. A place that after the first night, after gazing at her picture, more memories came back... before I could only remember being so hungry, so thin and having a few slices of bread and water to drink. The same as Cynthia, I could remember her being dragged from the room kicking and screaming while I was left to hold Andy. Then I remembered falling asleep, clawing at the concrete, until my finger bled because I couldn't understand how Cynthia had left the concrete room.

"I'm okay," I whispered looking at him, seeing the disappointment but not understanding why he wore it on his face at my response. Taking my hand in his, he toyed with my nails; looking at the forest green and then finally taking my pinky finger, which has the crackle nail polish that makes it, look like the jaguars' coat. The bottom layers of polish the same reddish brown as Samson's coat, with the black spots over them. "I don't think you're okay, but you also don't want to speak with me yet," he says gazing between my hand in his and my eyes.

Nodding slowly to confirm his statement, I think of the pictures I saw once again.

The wedding pictures, with three young girls, maybe three to six, and Andy the shortest person, standing in a small suit, a smile on his face – the whole group looking blissfully happy. Again I felt a pang of hurt, but it wasn't until I turned to the next picture, watching as for nearly four or five pages the pictures were all of Cynthia with girls I could remember Samson saying were his cousins. She had left me behind, not even in a safe place so she could go be someone else's mother. The pictures were a slap in the face as far as I was concerned.