Finding my way Home

Somewhere in the Middle

               She groaned as she parked the car in her driveway. It had been a long day, an even longer week. She was glad it was a holiday weekend, meaning she would have three days off instead of two. She never thought this was where she would be at her age. She had always dreamed of going out into the world and making a difference. Instead, she was tolling away in an office day in and day out, seeming to waste away. "Is it even worth it?" she asked herself as she threw her car door open to make her way into her home. Day in and day out, coming home to a cold house with no close friends or relatives that she was aware of, "Maybe it would have been better," she started but shook her head. There was a reason she had made it. She lost everything, but she had made it. It had taken five years since the accident for her to get her life back together, to heal. No one had come forward at that time to claim her; she was alone, but with the help of an excellent social worker, she had found somewhere to live and a job; the doctors had assured her in the beginning that the memories would return, the longer into her healing process and they would grimace if she asked. She had stopped asking.

                Her social worker encouraged her to choose a name she connected with, something that had some meaning to her. She had even brought her a baby name book so that she could explore all her options. It had taken her six months to answer to anything other than Jane, as the detectives had labeled her Jane Doe when they found her. Maybe because it had taken her that long to re-learn to read. The doctors assured her that sometimes brain trauma makes you forget things you learned when you were younger. She picked it up quickly with the help of many doctors in and out of her room in those first few weeks. She didn't know why, but Mel kept coming back to her. It had to be short for something the social worker told her with a smile, and in the end, she chose Melora. Once she had chosen a name, the social worker helped her regain her identity with the government; it would have been hard to do anything without proper paperwork. Melora Park was born where Jane Doe had stood. Park, as that is where they had found her broken and bruised, a reminder of where she dragged herself from. Once released from the hospital, she went to a women's shelter. She learned to drive and got a job, and here she was almost four years later, bone tired, but she had a roof over her head and security. It wasn't a spectacular life, and often, she dreamed of flames that melted skin, pain that would cause her to sit up and gasp and stay awake for hours. There were other times she dreamed of a small childlike voice calling Nana even though she could never see them and a deep melodic voice begging her to stay, come home, and that name Mel. Those days, she woke up and felt a piece of her heart was breaking. She didn't know if it was memories or just that she had missed a human connection, and her brain was somehow trying to give her something she was missing in the hours she was asleep. Stupid brain, even in her dreams, she was sad. She could not imagine if the dreams were memories that someone would not have looked for her, come for her. If a child were out there, a father for that child, they would have loved her enough to find her, right? Nope, she was not going down that road; she was going inside to put on her pajamas, order Chinese takeout from the restaurant down the street, watch mind-numbing TV, sleep, and then repeat it till Monday morning.

             She made her way into her house and put her purse on the end table; toeing off her shoes, she slid them in their place and made her way into her bedroom to put on her flannel pajamas. Fall had set in quickly, and she didn't want to feel the chill as she snuggled under her favorite throw this evening. Once she returned to her couch, she picked up her cell phone, placed her take-out order, and sat back to find something that caught her attention on the television while she waited. She was so predictable that she laughed at herself. This was her Friday night routine, with comfy clothes, Chinese takeout, and movies that showed her what she was missing. Many of her co-workers had invited her out for drinks; some male co-workers even tried to entice her to get dinner or see a movie. She didn't want to make her job awkward and turned them down. She had tried to go on a couple of dates and even tried to hang out with co-workers after hours. Once they started asking about her past, it was pitying looks, or even some who romanticized what had happened, telling her it was a gift she could start all over again. She scoffed, some gift she just wanted to belong, find her place, heck, be content. Was that too much to ask for? The knock on her door brought her out of her melancholy thoughts. She grabbed a 20 out of her purse to tip the delivery driver and opened her door smiling. "Thank you," she said softly as they handed her a bag.

        "Not a problem, ma'am," the young teen said, smiling as she handed him the tip. "See you next Friday," he waved as he was back down the steps and gone.

          "See you next Friday," she said, mirroring the smile, though she didn't feel it. She shut the door, returning to her couch to dig into her orange chicken and egg rolls. Once she was done, she opened her fortune cookie and laughed. "Yeah, right," she said aloud as she looked at the small slip of paper. An Adventure awaits you, which will lead to your most significant treasure. "I guess if by adventure you mean my office Monday morning and my paperwork, sure." She threw the slip of paper in her bag and yawned. She would clean up in the morning, and she was ready for bed. If she was lucky, she could get more than a couple hours of sleep before nightmares; if she was fortunate, she would have dreams of the voices she could never seem to find and only wake up missing someone she couldn't remember.

                Heat, she could feel it on her skin, and there was an orange glow behind her, with dark voices chanting in a language she did not understand. She was running and didn't know why, but something was hitting her in the face, limbs, and vines. She felt something sting her cheek, and she tripped, rolling onto her back before she hit the ground. A tiny voice crying. She tried to get up, but heat radiated from her ankle up her calf. The voices were getting closer. "Go!" She was pushing someone forward, "Run, find Ada," she whispered. She felt fingers clinging to her; her face was wet. "They will catch us both if you do not run. Be brave, little leaf, run," she pushed again as she heard branches cracking. The forest around her was silent.

    "Naneth," the small voice said again.

                     "I will protect you, but to do so, you must run. Take to the trees, my darling." She could hear the panic in her voice. "Go." She pushed again, and she suddenly felt alone. Pulling herself up, she swiped at her eyes, turning to face those that were tormenting her. She had to give him time. He had to get away. She heard the dark voices before she saw them. Grotesque and awkward looking as they surrounded her. They laughed as she drew something from her side. A dagger holding it in front of her. The pain she felt the pain. She didn't know where it was coming from, and she didn't dare scream. He would come back if she screamed, and she needed him far away from her. She gasped, her throat closing as a hand lifted her by the neck... Gasping, she sat up. This dream was different; it wasn't just the pain and voices. This time, there was a small child, and she needed him to be safe. "Oh, please be safe," she whispered as she wiped her eyes; she must have been crying in her sleep. What was that even about? It was just a stupid dream. No monsters were in the woods, no flames chasing her. Her mind was piecing things together to understand what had happened to her. She was assaulted and burned and left for dead, not by monsters but by men, who were probably still out there somewhere. I have got to get some air, she thought as she rose and moved through her house. She needed air, something to clear her head and get these images out of her mind. She paused by her front door long enough to slip into a pair of sneakers and then headed out to the front porch. Standing at the rail, she greedily sucked in the air, trying her best to calm her beating heart. A walk would do me good, she thought. Looking at the stars, she noticed an ache in her chest. She moved down her steps and decided a quick walk around her neighborhood would bring her peace.

                    Slowly, she made her way to the small park, stopping by the pond where she would sometimes venture to feed the ducks on a Sunday. She looked at her reflection, her face distorted in the water. It looked like something was glowing under the surface, and she rubbed her eyes. She needed sleep, she decided. The glowing was getting brighter, and she leaned closer to see if she could see what was causing it; before she knew it, she was tumbling, and with a splash, she found herself under the water. Why was it so bright? Was last thing she remembered before her mind went blank was the middle of the night.