Everyone Hides Something

Prolouge

“Goodbye Rosalie.” My mother whispers to my 5-yeard old self, a tear running down her left cheek.

She then turns, and walks out the front door, wearing her favorite pair of skinny jeans, riding boots, and my father’s black sweatshirt.

Right before the door closes; she turns around, and whispers “You’ll always be in my heart, Rosalie.”

That’s my last memory of my mother, before she left me, forever.

**

“Rosalie, I don’t have much time left.” my father croaks out, lying on a hospital bed, with nothing but a hospital gown on.

I look directly into the sea blue eyes that I inherited from him as he continues, “You are going to live with your mother’s best friend, Julie Anderson, and her son, Zack Anderson. They can protect you,” I can hear his voice getting weaker, “They will protect you from…”

And suddenly, my father is just a lifeless figure.

That’s my last memory of my father, before he left me, forever.

**

“Hi, My name is Zack Anderson.” A brown hair-kid that looked my age said.

Julie just showed me my room, and although she owned an apartment, it was pretty big. I got my own room, and my own bathroom.

I was just coming out of my room, when I ran into Zack, and as soon as he started talking to me, I looked down to the ground, I haven’t really been outgoing since my father died. I’m hoping he will just walk away now.

“I’m ten, just like you!” Zack persist in an excited voice.

That’s when I look up, deciding I’m going to tell him a need some alone time, and I see the most amazing turquoise eyes. They have so much depth in them, and I find myself just staring at him.

“Hi, I’m Rosalie Farrell, but you can call me Rosy.” I hear myself saying.

“Want to see my bunny, Rosy?” Zack asks with a grin.

I feel a smile on my lips before nodding yes.

That’s my first memory, of me and my best friend Zack.

**

I’m sitting at the kitchen table, trying to do my geometry homework, while Julie is making dinner. Zack is at football practice, and I just can’t seem to focus, so I decide it’s time to ask her the question.

“Julie, can I ask you something?” My 14-year-old self asks.

“Sure thing, honey.” Julie responds as she cops up some tomatoes for the salad.

“Before my dad,” I paused – I still didn’t like mentioning my dad,” died, he said you would protect me from something… who or what is the something?”

I’ve been wondering this for years now, but I just never have the courage to ask.

Julie froze for a few seconds, before continuing to chop the tomatoes.

“Your father wasn’t well in his last hours; he probably didn’t know what he was saying. He could of meant anything” Julie says, but I thought I could hear something else in her voice, but I couldn’t pick out what exactly.

I nodded, but I knew there was more. And I knew that is why my mother left us. She loved me and my father.

I’m not sure what it is, but I’m going to find out.