To Lose Your Sanity

You Are One Stunning Lady

Riele

I look at myself in the broken mirror and examine the stinging scratch that my mother had placed on my cheek a few minutes ago. I hate her, why won't she die already? Actually, I just miss her...

The woman has a severe case of Dementia which causes her to not remember me at some times. It hurts me so much, but I am used to it now, it has been more than 2 years since Dr. Gabe gave me and dad the results on her tests, saying that she had acute Dementia and was starting to forget a lot of things.  Back then, I had thought such a thing could never happen to my mother, I mean she was a crazy person who loved to have fun and seemed (at least to me) to be the healthiest person alive. I guess too much fun really drives one crazy. Mmm. It must have been all the alcohol.

I sigh at nobody in particular before opening up my little pharmacy on the left corner of my small bathroom floor. I grab some ointment and carefully apply some of it to the ugly, long scrape on my face. I hiss a bit in the action.

After all of that I just want to relax and read a book. I look at my large, Mahagony brown bookshelf with many photos of my family, back in those days, when it was whole. I spot a book that I had never really gotten the chance to read since my uncle gave it to me a month ago. I look at it for a moment, then I read the title out loud, "Chocolat". I liked the way the name rolled of my tongue, making me feel like I was French...in France, in love. No. That was certainly never going to happen to me. Stop dreaming Riele.

I start reading,

"February 11, Shrove Tues-"

My phone starts ringing. I'm not in the mood for this.  I pick up without reading the saved name of the number. "Riele", I hear myself say int the microphone of my crappy phone. 

"Sweetie!", the voice says. Oh, it's my dad.

"Yeah, what is it dad?" This is obviously not how this is supposed to go, I'm not supposed to be this annoyed at my father. He is just calling at the wrong time.

"I'll be back home late today, sweetheart, I'm sorry", I hear myself chuckle dryly. I almost expected this, my dad had been doing this a lot these days, I am starting to get suspicious of his eerie behavior. Has he started drinking again? 

"It's fine dad, it's really okay." I respond so calmly, like a purring kitten. In fact, acting is my forte indeed. I hang up after that. I don't want him to start feeling sorry for me and sugar -talking me, calling me 'Honey' and 'Sweetheart' and 'Baby'. I don't want it.

I start pitying myself for all I was going through but decide to continue reading the book my uncle gave me. After some minutes though, I can't seem to keep my eyes open. I give in to my fatigue and slowly feel myself slipping away from reality and into the sweetest place i could think of, my imagination.

I don't know for how long I've been asleep, but I am suddenly woken up by the screaming of multiple voices, cursing and cussing around, then the shatter of glass, stomping, a gunshot. I close my eyes, hoping with every inch of my existence that my father is not involved, but the noises don't stop, and my heart keeps pounding against my chest as if it wanted to run away to a distant land on the other side of planet Earth. I tell myself that i have to check what is going on downstairs. After a minute of trying to talk myself out of my fear, I go downstairs. 

And there it is. Exactly what I don't want to see. Its right there, in front of me. Who had asked me to come down here anyway? if I had stayed up there, I could have been shielded from this petrifying sight. Hah, who am I kidding?

"Oh, Hello there! I didn't see you there, I see you are one stunning lady." I turn around.