Call to Mind

Chapter one

The clouds matched the color of my eyes that night. They were one of the millions of shades of grey but had a dark blue tone to them because of the sky around them. My boxy, barley furnished room was strangely lit. The color from outdoors spilled through my window, causing the white walls to turn a deep, reflective blue. Who am I kidding? I was blue as well. It felt as if I was drowning the ocean colored atmosphere that my room created for me; and so with every ounce of power and strength I had leftover from that day, I sat up in my bed to keep my lungs above the water.

The weight of my shoulders caused me to slouch while I stared at my indigo walls in deep thought. I thought about things such as how time worked, how if there were less seconds in a minute, if he'd still love me the same as he did just the other day. I thought about how much better she must have been for him to completely erase what we had in order to write a new story. I thought about how many other lies there must have been, because little did I know he was writing our story in pencil while I wrote in pen. Maybe he began erasing before I even realized it. Maybe he was writing two novels at once and became attached to the characters in the second book.

Flashes of color blinded my eyes as I began to remember all of the times we were happy. Going out to the old playground by his house and having to run home, with only the stars to guide us because of my curfew. I remember the way he looked me in the eyes that night on my front lawn. He stood there, his left hand holding mine and his right pulling me closer. His eyes told me he loved me. The way they flickered from my lips to my eyes, and stayed there. Everything around us didn't seem to matter anymore. And yeah, I was insanely in love with him. I wonder if he thinks of things like that, too.

Sometimes, it doesn't even feel like it's love until they're leaving and you're on the ground begging for them not to leave you. Sometimes, you won't know it's love until you realize it's heartbreak. Though other times, you know it's love, and when they leave you're stunned. It'll hit you a day, or a week, or maybe even a month after that you really lost them. That they're gone and they're not coming back. All of the memories will, though.

My mind changed from my constant topic of 'him' to the adding up of tension with my patents lately. Not them together necessarily, them with me. They both have these complete opposite ideas of raising me as their teenage daughter, so different to the point that I myself, have no freedom. My dad sees me as this 'secret genius' and is always pushing me to be the top of my class - which, isn't always bad in a sense. I like that he keeps me motivated to continue trying at things, but that's all he sees me as. He's not letting me grow up I suppose you could say. And when I mess something up? I'll let the purpleish-green blotches on my rib cage tell you that story. My mother on the other hand, is always enforcing me to grow up. "Grow up" is something I hear on a day-to-day basis from her. Whether if it's asking for a few dollars to go out or if it's at the end of one of our countless fights, it seems to be something she never gets tired of saying.

I don't know. Maybe I do need to grow up, but when I do things that also apply to "growing up", such as bringing a boy home, my mother gives me the look as if I stepped on the holy bible. I remember when I brought Alex inside to meet my parents- he didn't want to go, he pulled my arm back and told me all of the things that could possibly go wrong. And to be fair, a third of the things he mentioned, DID happen. I snuck out with him that night. Two forty-seven am, I unlocked my bedroom window, the dying street lamp outside being the only source of light I had. I popped out my screen one corner at a time and hid it in my bushes. We had so much fun that night, I don't think I even slept.

Sometimes I think I just need to sleep. Often, the reasons vary from; "at least you can see him in your dreams", to "you really need to stop thinking about him." And there never really is an in between. Sleep had always been a form of escape for me, but lately I hadn't been able to fall asleep until the sun was appearing from the left side of the sky again

The sound of the front door slamming closed echoed up the stairway and snapped me out of my thoughts, back to consciousness. That sound often implied that my father came home from a bad day at work, and by then I was used to it, only surprised the glass frame on the top third of the door hadn't yet shattered. I got up quickly to turn the lock on my bedroom door, my left leg failing in the process because it had fallen asleep while I was sitting on my bed. My bad eye sight caused me to stumble over a pair of shoes, and I fell half onto my bed, and half onto my tan carpet floor. I dragged my the rest of my body onto the mattress and worked my way under my two blankets.

I couldn't help but stare at would have been my ceiling- if it weren't so dark; I thought with my eyes open, staring into the nothingness on top of me. I almost felt the pressure of the darkness settling on top of my body, and before I realized it, my eyelids became heavy and the world turned off.