Caught In The Moment

four - the umbrella encounter

Hey everyone, thanx for all the support I have been getting. This chapter is a little longer than the rest but it has another very interesting character involved :)

The picture on the side is of Meg when she is little and she falls over at the park and is crying.

steph xxx

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The paving feels spongy underneath the weight of my feet. I don't know if it is because of the amount of rain that went through last night, or me. I can still sense the crumpled up party invitation stashed in my pocket. The thought of me going to party is unreasonable. Maybe people have actually warmed up to the idea that there is no school, there is no judgements. But I know that there will never be a time like that. At least not while I'm alive.

My sneakers hit the side walk with a thump each time I take a step. I am just rounding the corner of my street. I can hardly see my house which lies in almost the exact middle of the street. The faded outline is all I can make out in the dim fog that covers the air. The reddish tone of the bricks is hardly visible but the cream tin roof is invisible. The small amount of lawn that we call a garden looks bare and almost dead from where i stand.

I wonder what I'll actually do today. I was planning on going to the library but with the sudden opening of an invitation I have an urge to do something I wouldn't normally do. But what would that be? Go to the beach? Ha, what am I talking about, I don't live anywhere near a beach. Ha, I don't even live in a state that has a beach. Just a suggestion, I tell myself. What about the park? No way, that's for children my brothers' age. That reminds me of a memory at the park. A bad memory.

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My dad is clutching my hand reassuring me that I'll be okay, "It's alright Meggy, there's nothing to worry about. I'll be right here." I look at him through teary eyes. He raises his mouth into a smile that settles my worries. I do the same however deep down inside worry eats at my insides, like an infection taking place.

He lets go of my hand but I cling onto his fingers. He struggles to slip his fingers out but I whimper and tears roll down my cheeks. He turns to me again and this time looks a little frustrated but coating with fatherly love when he says, "Meg, I'm right here. Trust me." The words soothe me and I can't think of anything better. I am the one to let go of his sturdy hands. He grins at me and ushers me to keep going. I spin my feet on the peddles as fast as I can. With all my might I try to keep the steering bar straight so I don't topple onto the paving.

I am doing it. I am riding a bike, for the first time. Happiness overwhelmed me. I look back at my dad, the smile on his face looking unnaturally big. He gestures for me to keep going but instead I call, "You can't catch me." He runs towards me with a menacing face, trying to scare me. It works. I peddle as fast as I can, feeling like my legs might fall off. My stomach hurts from laughing. I can hear dad's footsteps catching up to me. This makes me go as fast as I can. He growls, "I'm gonna catch you." I squeal and whip my head around to see how far behind he is. Only a couple of feet. If he swings his hands he'll surely be able to get me.

That's when it happens. I fly backwards off the bike. Everything seems to be in slow motion. Someone's hand comes in contact with my face which makes me lose my footing; the bike fully tips backwards. My dad's facial expression changes from a happy, laughing father to a worried, angry person that I haven't seen before. It scares me. A shiver rakes up my spine. I am in mid-air, for less than second and it feels as if I am flying on my back.

Then I hit the ground. A painful shock goes through me, all at once. At first all I hear is the crack. Then a searing pain rips through my insides, like someone has torn me in half. My head jolts back and lands on the paving. I scream at the tops of my lungs, hoping the pain will stop if I yell it away. It doesn't work. Instead it makes my body hurt even more - my throat scratchy and dry. My dad is right my side, holding my hand. They are scratched from when they made impact with the ground. Small blotches of blood circle in my palms. He doesn't seem to care and squeezes it tightly. He speaks to me, I assume something reassuring but the pain has blocked all my other senses, except smell. The suffocating smell of blood curdles whatever is left inside of me.