Fallen

Chapter 10 "Shattered"

I blinked, straightening then felt my body.

—I'm home?

Shaking my head, I shot a glance at my dresser. It was intact just like everything else in my room before I left the house for the prom last night.

But how?

My fingers grazed my dress.

It's still there, touching the tear and making haste to the mirror—I tried to remember what happened: the forceful hands groping my body; the sheer horror as I glided over the bruise on my inner thigh.

Those Pigs!

After I had torn off my dress, I bundled it up and tossed it into a black garbage bag. My parents must never see it. How would I ever explain what happened? I wouldn't be able to. Period!

I ambled over to the bathroom, continuing with my morning routine. But something was different today. The cold droplets sprouting from the shower head didn't feel the same; it too felt as intrusive as the fragments of memory circulating my head. After thirty minutes had elapsed, I tiptoed back into my room with a large, damp towel wrapped around my upper torso and another medium sized towel wrapped around my head. Despite my confusion, I tried desperately to maintain my composure as if nothing happened. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw sheer terror ripping and tearing at me.

Just as my hand touched the cold metal doorknob, leading to my bedroom, I raised my nose up.

Bacon.

Perhaps eating would make me feel normal.

Upon entering my room, I checked my alarm clock—8:36A.M.

She's up early—Maybe they don't suspect a thing?

What else did I remember last night?

I tried but to no avail. Only bits and pieces surfaced.

Maybe it would all come back to me later on?

Famished, I made my way down the stairs, following the heavily sweetened fragrance of applewood, smoked bacon. I passed the living room straight toward the dining room. Today was Sunday, and both of my parents would be up planning the daily objective. It was their thing before starting the new week.

"Morning, Dad."

"Morning!"

Not missing a page, my father's gaze never lifted from the magazine. And, the awkwardness continued as if silence was contagious. Both of my parents were trying too hard to be preoccupied with either willing to share a second or two of eye contact with me.

What the hell was he reading!

"Oh! Good morning dear, how many pancakes?" said Elizabeth.

"Two."

I sat across from my father.

"I didn't hear you come in last night. How was the prom?" said Chad.

Still blocked by the magazine, I didn't know quite how to respond to that.

"Around ten?"

"HMmmmmm—interesting," grunted Chad.

Never skipping a page, he resumed his reading.

—Interesting?

"Two pancakes, dear," said Elizabeth, smiling.

I knew a fake smile when I saw one; this was textbook acting reenacted by two amateurs. As I caught on to what they were doing, patience would be my best play until they were ready to reveal their cards first. Besides, I really didn't have a clue of what happened.