Blithe

Chapter 1 // She's Broken, She's Grace

The small argument had escalated into a full on rampage. Shattered glass, pictures ripped from the nails in the walls, and a constant echo of indistinguishable hollering from the room at the end of the hallway. Downstairs in the basement, sat a quaint, lanky, thirteen year old girl with her long fingers covering the sides of her head as if squashing her skull in her hands would finally get their attention, maybe even make them stop and look at her. She promised herself that she wouldn't cry, but she knew that once that first tear leaked out, once that first sob racked her young ribs, she was completely at her sadness's mercy. It wasn't only sadness. It was the stomach churning loneliness that left her in bed hungry and left her neglected and kicked to the side like an old dog chained to a tree outside in the backyard with empty bowls.

She gathered herself to her feet, still stumbling from dizziness that the drain that her breakdown always had. Nowadays, she packed an extra backpack of what clothes she had, extra toothbrushes and other necessities. Nausea rose in her stomach as she heard more screaming before she stormed out of the door, leaving the bickering "parents" behind. At this point, she didn't even consider them her parents. Her bicycle offered transportation a few miles away to her only salvation.

These particular bike rides always got her lost in her own mind as she watched the clouds drift by and the hell of a home disappear behind her. Honestly, she didn't know what home was. She knew things could be much worse, but she also felt jealousy rise up in her gut like bile when the classmates she went to junior high with talked about their parents taking them on vacation or even being embarrassed about them hugging them at the bus stop. She only wished she could get a hug from her mother's arms. She had a nightmare that her mother hugged her before and she got burned by her touch. After that, she came to the conclusion that their affection would only hurt her, so she didn't expect or anticipate it any longer.

Wiping away the tears that had sneaked their way down her cheeks, she laid her bike on the gravel driveway and slumped to the front door. In the window was the familiar, wrinkled face with a sad smile stretched across her weathered face. She opened the door and wrapped her in a close, nearly healing embrace in her damaged arms.

"What was it about this time, Gracey?" the woman asked, using the familiar nickname.

"I didn't stick around to find out," Grace mumbled into her grandmother's shoulder.

"Come on in, I was just about to have some dinner," she said welcoming her inside. The smell of steamed vegetables and pasta wafted from the living room. An extra plate was always set out for Grace. She was always an expected and rather anticipated guest. Grace took only a spoon full of the food in front of her and sparsely nibbled on the little on her plate.

"Come on, Gracey. You need food in you after being drained like that," the older woman pressed from the other side of the table. She knew all about these situations, not only from watching her granddaughter experience them, but from having experienced them herself her entire life.

"Grammy Lyss?" Grace asked.

"Yes, honey?" she replied while folding her hands underneath her chin and setting down her utensils.

Grace couldn't help but notice the way the light caught her grandmother's sensitive skin on her forearms. Even wrinkled and weathered, the deep lines remained. Grace was used to this, but it still shocked her every time. "Was she always like this?"

Lyss rubbed her temples with her thumbs, as if the sensation could bring back the memory. "Well, your mother didn't exactly have the easiest childhood. I suppose she felt," she paused. "Abandoned by me. So she never...she never knew how a mom should act." She pulled Grace close to her and kissed her forehead. "Or how a wife should be. I'm sorry."

Grace winced as the first of many hot tears overflowed from her eyes. A few whimpers escaped her mouth before they escalated to full blown sobs. She bit her lip to quiet them, but her grandmother insisted that she let it out. After a good crying session, Lyss left Grace's side quickly and returned seconds later with personal cartons of ice cream; Grace's favorite, vanilla and chocolate chip, and her grandmother's favorite, vanilla and chocolate fudge. Together, they sat comforting each other and watching reruns of cartoons they both enjoyed.

It was very often that Grace felt the childish side of Lyss come out. Lyss was the one who had taught Grace to read long before kindergarten, and was in fact the one who introduced her to her favorite books, the Inheritance cycle. Many nights Grace slept in the extra room that had long since been claimed by herself. She even decorated it herself with picture she had taken with the camera her grandmother had given to her when she turned thirteen. Many of the pictures were of nature and her grandmother. Even with her pruned, pale complexion, short, deep brown hair that had yet to begin greying, and scarred skin from her past, Grace saw an undying beauty in her grandmother.

It was to this room Lyss carried her granddaughter to when she fell asleep a few minutes later and began to softly snore on her shoulder. She tucked her under the large quilt she constructed from old t-shirts and kissed her forehead, whispering "I love you" before exiting the room after flicking on the nightlight. Lyss was grateful to be so blessed to see her granddaughter so often, but was endlessly guilted with the reason lying behind the neglect and abuse. She could see the spark in Grace's eyes blinking out more and more with every day she came to her front door in tears. She couldn't bear to see her experience what she had as a child. Even worse, she couldn't bear to imagine what ran through the girl's head. If only she could open her mouth and let all of her thoughts spill to the ground like she was throwing up the bricks in her stomach that the stress had put there. Then, maybe, she could find a way to save her angel from absolute destruction. Of all the people on earth, Lyss believed that her granddaughter deserved happiness.

The phone in the kitchen rang sharply as Lyss raced to answer. Before it rang a second time, she lifted up the phone and answered with a, "Hello?"

"Mom? Is Grace with you? I...I don't know where she is..." said a raspy voice hiding anger.

Lyss could only reply, "Yes, she came to my house again," dryly.

"I'll be there for her tomorrow morning," she stated simply.

"Is it okay if she and I spend the day together tomorrow?" Lyss asked her daughter with a wince, already hearing the sigh of disapproval.

"No, I already have something planned," lied the voice on the other end.

Lyss sighed, swallowing the cotton in her throat. "Okay, come on in when you get here. She needs a good rest, Anne. She's so..."

Her daughter sighed. "I know, mom. I'll be there."

Lyss hung up the receiver before covering her mouth to stop a cry from escaping. She slid down the wall and stared at the floor. She wished so desperately to fix what she had done to her daughter, but if there was a solution for the pain she caused, she knew she would never come close to it. Feeling the familiar numb feeling in her chest returning, she turned to her counter and swallowed a sleeping pill. It sped up her dreamless nights, and, at this point, sleep was the only hope of relief she felt for the both of them.