JAMAIS VU, kellyoncé

chapter five

five.

With each step, mud sloshed further into her hiking boots. She shuddered at the abnormal feeling. Her toes grew clammy as the liquid covered the soles of her feet, embedding in every crevice it could reach. She regretted not taking the time to throw on a pair of long socks and pants to help make the cleaning process easier. Somehow she knew she needed atonement— a cleanse of sorts. The mud was just an easier pathway to achieving that height.

She gripped onto the shovel tightly, using it as an anchor. The assistance propelled her forward against exposed tree roots and fallen leaves. Her attention was casted to placing one foot in front of the other by avoiding the throes of reality.

If she stopped and stumbled, so did her willingness to continue. This wasn't nearly as difficult as lugging hay, or the long hours of working and performing in her mother's hair salon. This was a different kind of responsibility. Those activities were just that, activities. It didn't require much thinking effort and relied heavily upon physical attentiveness.

This, on the other hand felt mind boggling. It altered her perception of what true mental and emotional endurance was and what it required. Above all, this was not the capacity to test those limits. She would fail.

The only thing that could be heard was her father's grunts and a rustling sound against a root laden course. She followed behind him silently as he hauled a blue tarp bag. He was strong, but she didn't think he was worthy of strength in conditions such as this. There was anywhere from two to three hundred pounds of dead weight he dragged across the ground.

When the path became uneven, he dug his heels deep into the ground and threw his body in the opposite direction. He gained support from his lower extremities to compensate for how much he had to pull.

Upon approaching their destination she was able to fully see what she was apart of. The teen would focus on catching her breath. For now it was the only thing she could control. All of her energy was honed into ignoring the fact that not only were their lives over, but a part of hers.

Going forward, she was going to have to live with the fact that she was an accessory to murder.

Red, bodily fluids were painted across the tarp. He unraveled it, forcing two bodies to fling out of constrains. One was unconscious, further nearing his fate with God. Another rolled into a position on all fours. Her hands gripped the ground as she struggled to stand to her feet. Saliva leaked out of her mouth as she coughed up all kinds of foreign invaders. She didn't bother wiping her mouth as she regained a healthier amount of oxygen.

In a stern voice, her father ignored the decaying teens covered in filth. "Say your goodbyes, Honeybee." He spared his daughter a pitiful glance before he turned and began praying.

The silent murmurs he uttered caused her stomach to churn. It was almost as ear piercing as the hollers of terror seeping into her eardrums. She kept her gaze on her feet, patiently waiting for it all to pass. She was certain how it would end— something had to come of it all.

Once finishing, he continued shoveling out dirt, fully honing into completing his task. The hole was massively evading his worries, while it dauntingly agonized his daughter.

"Please. Please don't let this happen. Please, Bey it's me. You know me. BB, please!"

The pleading and the crying— it didn't stop. Those sentences came like a chant in an arena. The chatter bounced off of walls and could be felt in her chest. It came like a tyrannical tidal wave. The waters kept moving and swaying, impacting her far more now than it had then.