Illusions

Chapter 3

*Bree Dalton*

Before the Accident

An alarm went off beside me, making me open my eyes. I looked closely at my phone. It read "6:30 Wednesday, December 7". It was my nineteenth birthday. I heard my mother come running down the hall.

"Bree, sweetie, darling, pumpkin! Wake up!" I sat up from my spot on the carpet. "Good morning. Happy birthday." She smiled at me happily. In her hands, she held a light blue box with a silver bow and ribbon. "There is another present in the car, but as you know, you'll have to wait," she said.

I took the small blue box from her cupped hands and took it into mine. The lid came off slowly, revealing a silver necklace with a cursive ℬ hanging off the chain. "Your father... He got this for you. He said for me to give it to you on your nineteenth birthday." She choked back tears.

Her arms wrapped around me. "He loved you very much, sweetie." I nodded, I knew he did. She handed me a piece of paper that had been at the bottom of the small box.

"Dear Bree,

I love you very much. One day, you will grow up to be a spectacular woman. I will always be in your heart. Happy 19th baby.

Love,

Daddy"

My thumb ran over the word daddy that was followed by a heart. Every memory of my father came rushing back. I missed him. My mom had done a great job raising me on her own. I looked at her, put down the note, and hugged her. She sniffled and I knew she missed him too. "Thank you," I whispered.

She sat back and sighed running her hand across my cheek. "You're so old," she joked. I giggled as she held her hands out to me. She pulled me up. "Are you ready, sweetie?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," I replied.

I grabbed my pillow, blanket, and phone. I stuffed my few belongings into a backpack. I walked down the hallway to the front door. My mom walked out before me and I turned around to face the house I grew up in. I took a deep breath and shut the door behind me, and walked to the rental car.

Looking up I saw a few seagulls riding the wind above. The breeze ran through my I brushed red hair. All I could smell was the sea that was less than a block away.

I walked to the trunk of the blue Mini and set the backpack in the back of the car. My mom looked at me and seemed to read my mind. "Why don't we walk down to the shore one last time." I smiled, excited that she wanted to go as much as I did.

She took my hand and began to close the trunk of the car. We walked down the street and around the corner. The rickety old wooden stairs led us down to the shore. I held onto my mother's hand tighter as I bent down to take off my sandals.

I knew I was going to miss the little city. It was home to me. I had never known anything different. Shell Beach would always be my home.

My mom walked down before me as I stood at the top of the stairs looking out into the misty horizon. Below me I could hear the waves crash against the shore, hitting the rock and sand. "Bree, aren't you coming down?" my mother asked me. "Yes mom, I'm just looking at what I'll have to let go." I walked down the white wooden steps to the bottom where the pebbly shore was becoming me to come. My mom was waiting for me and she took my hand as we walked through the cold shallow water.

The beach was fairly small. It only took us about twenty minutes to walk the whole beach. The waves, grey and calm, splashed against the my feet with every step I took. Memories flashed back to when my father used to bring me down there to play upon the rocks. We'd look for crabs and small fish that could easy slip from your grasp. If the tide was low, we'd find sea anemones. At my young age, I used to lightly poke it while it curled itself around my finger. Traveling around the little cliff--that cut off the beach from the deeper sea waters--would open my eyes to see eels and other little critters.

Together, my mom and I walked back up the stairs and to the Mini. My mom got in right away, making sure she wouldn't look back on what she'd have to leave behind. As for me, I stayed out for a second facing the house, though it was no longer mine. I got in the car and closed the door. I didn't look back after that.

...

I took my bag over to the place where they load the luggage. I pulled out my phone from the pocket. I didn't want to lose it. Silently, I walked over to the boarding area, I knew we were a little late.

"Last call for the flight to London," was what I heard last in America. My mom and I walked aboard. In a few hours, I'd be walking through the country I had wanted to live in my whole life. I couldn't wait.