Everything We Always Were

Thirteen: The Box

(AN: Surprise! You get a double feature! Happy Halloween readers! But, don't expect anything to be resolved just yet...)

The sun had barely started to rise when my eyes opened, my back a little stiff from the couch, the pain making me wake up rather quickly. It's barely 5 am, so Delia is definitely still asleep, but my stomach is already growling for food.

I estimate about an hour and a half of alone time, so I quickly, and quietly, grab some clothes from my bedroom and change in the bathroom. The drive to Harold's, I don't turn on my music, anxiety making it hard to concentrate.

Sitting in the diner, the only customer, I order and eat an omelet and a coffee, and then order Delia a breakfast sandwich and hashbrowns to go. She's still fast asleep when I get home.

For hours, I sit at the kitchen table, thinking, waiting for her to wake up.

The first thing I think about is my uncle. My monthly deposit hit just an hour ago, at 7 am, and I stared at the number in my account. Hush money. Pity money. The money could be labeled in so many ways, but I see it as a weight. A burden on me. A chain connecting me to them.

The number grows, larger and larger, year after year, until the number rests behind my eyelids when I sleep at night. I have to take it, because if I somehow manage to escape them, my reputation will be ruined, and I'm not even an adult yet, not to mention I haven't done anything.

When the anger starts to boil, my grandma passes my mind. My teeth grit together painfully, and I sigh heavily. Not long, not long at all. My mom can handle the chemo a little longer, she's still young and strong, well as much as she can be. But, Grandma was already frail before the cancer. I'm scared that I will wake up tomorrow and she will have died in her sleep.

As my thoughts spiral deeper, Delia appears in front of me in the kitchen, snapping me out of it.

I tell her about the omelet, and she gives me a huge smile, brightening my mood already, and making it easier to breathe. She eats quickly and then insists on talking to my mom and grandma. I zone out for the entire hour and a half pretty much, bouncing my leg and picking at my thumbnail.

The idea for the swimming hole just popped into my head randomly, through a crowd of other thoughts, the prevalent ones of Tory, and how I can't stand her still. A love-hate.

I remember fighting with her on the way to this same swimming hole, she had treated one of my old soccer buddies' girlfriends absolutely horribly, just undeniable bullying. It was a useless fight, which I realized pretty much immediately.

On the way up the trail, I count how many times Delia trips, holding back a laugh each time. She has always been so clumsy.

Although this place brings back bad memories, I still love it here and visit often.

"It's so pretty here," I tear my eyes away from the trees, dropping my shirt onto a rock next to me and smiling at her.

"Yeah, it is," Her eyes scan the area, while mine scan her face. "And I promise that even though it's shaded, the water isn't freezing. It's like a normal swimming pool temperature," I explain, urging her forward to the water.

She steps in cautiously and then sinks down until she's sitting on the rocks inside. I join her, and then the word vomit begins to spill. I can't stop it, and it's embarrassing, but it also feels good to get it out. And of course, Delia doesn't respond negatively.

"There's no use in worrying about what might or might not happen," I watch her face contort as she speaks, and her hands display what she's displaying in front of her. Her eyebrows scrunch together, showing her genuine worry.