Forgetting Home

Chapter Two

"How's the day going Phiff?" asked Mr. Acosta, the man who every morning, walks his dog, and every morning, happens to pass by the path I take to the sports center.

I crouch down and smile at his dog, Fitz, while patting his head. Fitz is a saluki puppy that's 5 months old and has brown-golden fur. He makes happy sounds as I stand up to give Mr. Acosta a small bow.

"Began quite bad. Good thing I bumped into you and Fitz. Have a great one Mr. Acosta." I say as I walked away to work.

With my Adidas duffle bag containing my skates and some stuff needed for the session today, my fingers fidget around my snowflake keychain clipped to the zipper. Stopping at a zebra line, I notice the moon. It's already 9:35 am, why is the moon visible? The abnormalities are limitless in this place.

Yes, this is how everyday goes since the incident. That upsetting memory which happens to appear in my dreams, wakes me every 8 o'clock from my slumber. It's like my alarm clock, and the satisfying fact that I can make it stop in the morning is really nice, but when the day ends, the fear of it happening and flashing before my closed eyes, the terror of feeling trapped in a memory you want to bloody forget but just can't, is the worse feeling and to stop my dreams, is obviously, beyond my capabilities.

I experience that every single day, can you imagine?

The walking man lights green and I act on impulse as my legs swing and bring me forward. As I cross the stoplight, my shoulders bump into other's, and as usual, no one complains. My eyes are in the mood to be Chinese today, deciding to stay at the very least, half a centimeter from closing.

The sports center is about a 10-15 minutes walk from my flat. Emma teaches only on Thursdays now, an effect of the incident. Seeing her kid being kidnapped and threatened gave a heads up for her. While I, being me, still teach from Sunday to Thursday.

My acquaintances (I don't prefer calling them friends) from the sports center say that I most definitely have changed. Have I? Or did everyone's minds just suddenly pop! Their minds become more lenient towards me, or may I say to the people included in the incident, just because most of us went through mental therapy or psychosomatic treatment?

They considered us to be easily affected and too gullible, so we tend to prove them wrong in the way where we oppose them, causing them too presume that we are too negative or realistic. Yeah, maybe I do have mood swings or I am in need of anger management, but for the sake of my sanity, you cannot directly rub in our faces that the incident changed us in a negative and bad way! You can't tell someone; "For goodness' sake, can you be less dramatic and bring back the Phiff I knew?"

Okay, maybe I lashed out just now. Putting that aside, the sport centre stands before me. Releasing a heavy sigh, I push the humungous metal doors revealing the only thing that encourages me to stay calm and the thing that I sincerely love. Ironic right? The place I love and treasure the most is also the place where the fear started, all the tragic terror, it's where it rooted from.

I see the only olympic-sized ice rink in Poland before my eyes and that's when I feel a smile ghost on lips. Lindsey, my 11 year old student, runs to me, soon engulfing me in her bone-crushing hugs.

"Oomph!" I let out, as the brunette's head buries in my torso. I pat her head in sympathy, soon enough hugging her back with my cheek pressed against her hair.

"Just to let you know, you're 3 minutes and 38.. 39.. 40.. and so on seconds late." She mumbles against my jacket then pulling away with her award winning smile.