Between the Borders

-1-

It was a normal Wednesday afternoon, a fall day at that, the leaves falling into small piles in bold colors of yellow, orange and red, and the wind that used to be warm now cold to the touch. 

Rouge Waters walked down the leaf-trampled sidewalk, shivering from the cold air around her. Even with her five layers of sweaters, undergarments and a thick winter coat on, she was still chilled to the bone; the cold somehow penetrating through her barrier. 

She was walking home from school, which was no more than three blocks away. Rouge would walk home to her mother, who would be wringing out the wet laundry, as usual. Every other day was like this, and so Rouge paid no attention to the timely coming of her neighbor doing something with her yard [whether it'd be mowing it or raking leaves]  or the German Shepherd that always barked at her for no apparent reason. 

As she hopped up her porch stairs to a cozy-sized gray house at the end of the street, she noticed a small detail-- one that some people would overlook completely, but to Rouge, a horrible and devastating thing that would change her entire life-- even if she hadn't known that just yet. 

A clay flowerpot was rested beside the door, the roses planted within it frozen and hard to the touch. 

This baffled the small girl. Her mother would always take the roses in-- no matter the weather-- water it, then leave it to bask in the sunlight inside of her house, on a small windowsill behind her flower-print couch. 

Did something happen to her mother? When was she gone? How long was she gone for?

Rouge fumbled with her house key as she struggled to take it out of her coat pocket. She slid the thin metal into the keyhole and turned it, wincing slightly, as if the simple action hurt her. 

She opened the white door, and what she found on the rug was something she hadn't expected at all. 

-x-

A small yellow Post-It note was lying on the fluff of the rug, sticky side up. Rouge picked it up quickly and turned it around, surprised to see the handwriting rushed and forced; as if someone had to go in a hurry. 

Dearest,

I'll be gone for a while-- in about 4 days, I believe. Take care of yourself, and don't forget to wash the dishes!

-Mother

Rouge stood there in silence, baffled at the words her mother wrote on the yellow piece of paper. Where was she going? Why in four days was she going to come back? What was she going to do in those four days? And what's with her calling her 'Dearest'?

The girl simply threw her backpack on the ground and flopped onto the couch, taking off all her layers-- like she would normally do every other day that wasn't this specific one. 

If she's gone for a few days, she's gone for a few days. Rouge thought, a little bit out of character, unless you realize that she's actually panicking inside and worrying about her mother, more than she actually should.

Or is her worry not enough?

She folded up her sweatshirt and coat and walked to her room, the only messy place in her entire house. The floor was covered in her clothing, her bed was filled with books and stuffed toys, and her closet-- was just horrifying. 

She placed her neatly folded clothes under her bed-- the only place not filled with junk-- and sat down at the edge of her bed, wondering what to do. 

Rouge could call the police and they'd help her find her mother-- but she wasn't kidnapped [at least, in the way the situation was at the moment.] She crossed that option off the list, since the police officers would probably not believe a 14-year-old girl who looked like a 4th Grade student. 

The second option that popped into her head was to keep going on with her life as if nothing had ever happened. Her mother would still be there, doing chores; she'd do homework and schoolwork as usual, and no one would ever know of her mother's disappearance.

Rouge nodded her head slowly, as if agreeing with someone. Yeah, I should pretend nothing bad had happened. Better to conceal... than feel. Rouge thought humorously, memories of her class watching Frozen appearing vividly in her mind. She stood up and began folding crumpled clothes from the dirty carpet floor, because what else could you do after your mother disappeared without a trace except for one vague note?

-x-

The clock nearing dinnertime, Rouge quickly fixed herself a small sandwich with butter on it. She set the table up and put down placemats and utensils as usual; she pretended that it was her mother who told her to prepare the table for the food. The girl gently placed her butter sandwich on her white plate, and quickly sat down in front of it, her eyes focusing on the liquid drips slowly falling down the crust of bread. 

She clapped her hands once, then closed her eyes, thanking the food that was on her plate, thanking her home, her family [even though some of it left her without a trace] and her ability to go to school. Then she opened her eyes, and began ravenously eating the butter sandwich. 

-x-

Rouge stared at the ceiling above her, little bumps poking out of the white plaster, making shadows in the fluorescent light. She sighed and turned over, shuffling her blankets a little bit. It was soon nearing 10 AM, and she still showed no signs of sleep. No yawning, no tiredness, no nothing. 

She had been trying everything the books and her mother told about-- counting sheep, drinking warm milk, thinking about your best moments, and even re-reading some books for a while. But, in the end, she was still awake, her brain energetic and louder than ever. Images of her mother in her flower apron flashed between her eyes, and questions followed after, leaving Rouge with a headache. Groaning, she turned over again, more frustratingly this time, and forced her eyes shut. I will sleep. I will sleep. I will sleep. She began thinking, turning her hands into fists, and eventually, slowly, she fell unconscious, her eyes still appearing to be forced shut. 

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