"Marcie, get up darling!"
I heard a voice wake me up that sounded so simular to my mother's I jumped and hit my head against the wall behind me. Ther was a beautiful woman with brown curly hair and bright blue eyes. Her shirt was a baggy palid button up and she had dark blue skinny's with converse on. She looked like she was maybe 23 but dressed like she was 17 or 18.
"Where am I? Who are you, where's my father?"
I was happy yet scared to see her, I had no clue anyone else was in this house or building whatever it was. I trusted my dad more than I did this strage lady that just appeared, and how did she know my name was Marcie? My dad must know her somehow. The woman tried to help me up by lifting my wrist and handing me jeans and a shirt.
"Where can I change?"
I asked looking around, she led me out of the cement room and through the door that my dad left and entered through. I still wanted to ask who she was and how she knew me, but I hesitated, surprisingly I'd rather ask my dad.
I changed into some light blue skinny jeans and a plain white T-shirt that the woman handed me earlier.
"You ready sweetie?"
She asked me in a sweet tone that sounded forced, I really hated her calling me sweetie, I didn't know her, and my mom used to call me that all the time it made me miss her. When I thought about it, I don't really think my dad intended on killing my mother. I'm not gonna say he didn't know better because he did, but I think he was just so upset he never thought about it. He was always so sweet and gentle when I was younger. Right now I'm so confused as to where I am, who the woman is, and why I'm here! A tear rolled off my cheek as I steped out of the bathroom, the woman held my hand and led me upstairs where my dad was living as I was trapped inside the cement room with nothing to do. The sunlight hit my eyes and I couldn't really focus on anything but the floor. She took me to the kitchen and told me to sit here and wait, she pushed a bowl of cereal across the table and walked into a room off to the left which I assumed was my dad's room.
The house was fairly big and had beautiful furniture, the walls were painted light and warm colors. Directly out of the kitchen was the dinning room which looked like it was used as part of the living room.
I continued to eat my cereal when my dad came out of the bedroom and sat next to me at the island in the kitchen.
"Marcie, we're gonna go out for a while. Get some geroceries and maybe some clothes for you, but you can't speak of your mother or anything that took place last night. You understand?!"
He voice was that sweet tone I always loved as a child but I wouldn't dare disobey what he said the consiquences would be worse that the hope I would get from telling someone. Besides, I had the strange feeling that my dad wasn't ever going to hurt me. He always loved me and always gave me the best he could when I was little. I remember the time when my mom, dad, and I went to California for a summer when I was about eight, we went to every park I wanted to go to and I got whatever I wanted to eat the whole trip. I wasn't a spoiled kid but my mom and dad loved me and they knew I wouldn't ever get the opprotunity to see California again. I laughed remembering the little detail of the trip and cried when the image of my mom coughing and gasping for air on the garage floor came into my head and I remembered our family would never have memories like that again.
"I-i wont, promise."
"That's my girl!"
He kissed my head and put the bowl and spoon into the sink. He pointed to my room that I would have for awhile and told me there was money on the desk if I wanted to bring any, then he walked back into the bedroom and said he would be ready in a few minutes.
In my room the walls were painted a basic purple color with black dots in random places around the room, the bed had a black blanket on it with white stars sewn on. The money was on the desk right next to the bed, fifty dollars was banded up in a rubberband.
How dad was acting was normal when I was little but after what he did to my mom and how they always used to fight for 2 years of my life, it didn't seem so normal. I was happy but scared about why he was being so nice so fast, was it the woman that made his mood change? Or was it just his head going crazy after what he did to mom? I thought to myself as I sat down in the kitchen chair again wait for him to be ready. Things around here are going to take a lot of getting used to, and someone needs to do a lot of explaining.
