The Hunted

The Souvenir

                                                                                  Lyra

    I woke up to my aunt Sasha, who was lightly shaking me. Murmuring sweet nothings as she brushes the hair out of my face. I peek open my eyes and smile up at the woman who took me in after my parents passed away. First, my mother passed away from intrahepatic bile cancer, then my father passed away from a broken heart shortly after. This was 3 years ago, and I'm 19 now.

I sat up with a yawn, feeling a dull ache in my shoulder from sleeping on it wrong, and looked around the living room. The TV sat in the left corner of the room, while the dark brown wrap-around couch was shaped in a backward 'L' shape. There was a black-and-white abstract rug with paint-like splashes on it. Next to the couch was a coffee table with a glass top and dark wood legs that looked super glued onto the glass. 

Two large windows looked out into the backyard from the right corner of the room. Perched in front of the windows stood two cabinets with a variety of plants and flowers scattered on and around them. A poodle named Sprite lay in front of the foliage, settling down in a peaceful slumber. The walls were bare of pictures with no family photos or anything colorful to add spice to the walls. I liked it that way though. The living room always seemed fresh and bright no matter the art on the walls.

I grinned remembering the exciting day ahead of me and turned to Sasha. "Today is the day!" 

"I know!" she responded with a giggle, "and I've woken up earlier than normal to make you french toast with those farm fresh raspberries. The ones that taste differently from the store for some reason." 

I beamed, "Oh gosh!! What an amazing turnaround from last night!"

"What do you mean?"

"Ugh, I had this dream that I was being chased by wolves and to escape I had to jump off a cliff."

"Eesh."

"Yeah, and there were two chicks with me too. I felt in the dream how much I cared for them, which was weird."

"Definitely, sorry that happened, hun."

"I haven't even told you the worst part! I woke up DRENCHED in sweat, had to change and come sleep out here."

"I was wondering why you chose to sleep out here. Don't worry though. It's all paranoia from today being your first day at college!" I look over to see Sasha doing a little dance as she goes into the kitchen. I figured I wouldn't tell her about me flipping off the moon and the strange pull I had. She'd likely chalk it up to paranoia as well.

A 3-hour and 18-minute drive from Clarks Summit to Yale University. Known for its top-tier programs in an array of disciplines. One of which is psychology, the study of mind and behavior. I've always been able to read emotion and see fleeting thoughts behind someone's eye, hell... even predict what someone is going to do in the heat of the moment. Professionally, I could be a detective, be a therapist, work in child development, I could even be a Neuropsychologist. Which is a healthcare provider that specializes in brain connections and how they affect your behavior.

The point is... I could help. Help someone who truly needs to have that anchor in life! I could be an anchor.

I push my way off the couch and march my way into the kitchen to find Sasha making coffee for herself and the plate of food still steaming on the small table that's daintily sat in the middle of the kitchen. Plopping myself down in the chair I pull my hair up into a bun to dig in.

"Once you're done with that and you get yourself a shower, I'll drive you today. Don't want you crashing on your big day."

"I don't drive that bad!"

"I've had to fix the car your dad left you six times! You'd get a raise if you were cast in Mad Max."

"I get it, Auntie."

"You're like Sean Boswell if he never learned how to drift."

"Thanks, Aunt Sasha...."

"Wait I have one more, you're driving is so bad that Baby Driver became Elderly Driver."

"Ew, that was terrible! Now that you're done I'm going to go take a shower."

"Enjoy!"

~~~~*-*~~~~

The sky was grey and the weather was bipolar, frustrating, or better known as sweater weather. Clouds had rolled in as well as a breeze that said fall was almost over. I wrapped my soon-to-be-discarded sweater closer to my body as I glanced around us. This wasn't the way towards Yale.

"Uhm Auntie?" Sasha hummed in response.

"This isn't the way towards Yale."

"Yeah we are making a pit stop at a souvenir shop so we have something that marks this historic day. Your mom was one for souvenirs so I figured we'd do something that sorta includes her, if that's ok?" My eyes tear up at her words and I give her a small smile.

"Yeah of course that's ok."

The rest of the road trip was in comfortable silence. Occasionally saying this or that comes to mind or pointing out things worth commenting on. It wasn't before long that we pulled up to a tourist shop called Waverly General Store. A white building victorian styled building with windows in the front. Being two stories tall and on the corner of the street, the building blended in with all the other white houses around it. The store is filled with candles and little trinkets that show that the holidays are around the corner. Strangely enough, there was a section full of things for ballerinas.

With a shrug, I grab a glass turkey keychain, make my purchase, and turn to see Sasha wiping her eyes. "Woah what's wrong?"

"I know I'm not your mother, that I will never fill that role. I also know that even though your life has dragged you through the dirt, you have still found a way to stay so beautiful. Clean from the destruction that has tried to ruin you, you've stood tall. I mean these words like it is your parents saying them to you themselves. I am so proud of you."

Snot threatened to drip from my nose and I was choking on a sob as walked into her arms for a hug. Holding each other while we silently cry our hearts out.

"Auntie Sasha?"

"Yeah?"

"Crying in a corner store seems like a bad country song, can we cry in the car?" Sasha laughed and nodded while pulling away. A goofy smile plays on her smile while she dances out of the store. "Wait up tiny dancer!"

We get in the car and continue the journey to Yale. College here I come.