"someday something will go terribly, utterly, horribly wrong. one day everything will be fine. our lives swing between that one day and someday. so why do you worry about it everyday."
- morgan harper nichols -
_____
The small pelts of rain dribbled against the tin roof, sounding like the cry of an upcoming battle. Through the A-frame windows, the outline of the trees shaking captured her attention and rendered her almost immobile in thought. She seldom gave a thought to the East coast where a figment of her past inhabited. However, this particular morning, her thoughts spun a web around the idea of her parents, her friends. She wondered if they missed her. She didn't miss them. She only remembered the loneliness settling into the depths of her bones when she was surrounded by a roomful of people who told her they loved her. Against their judgement, she enrolled in her upcoming college classes online, packed all of her dearest belongings, and drove to a place with clear air, in hopes of purifying her outlook on the world. When the decision was made, she drew a map, turned off the notifications of a million events, posts, and news happening, only utilizing her phone for absolute necessities. Lydia had always been a bit old-school, a vintage girl living in a modern world.
The storm brewing outside only made her feel as if a storm was brewing in her bones for the first time in a month.
As if she predicted it, a phone rang.
Her limbs fumbled around for a second, wondering where she had placed her phone before drifting off to sleep the previous night.
Soon enough though, she was giving a whispy sounding, "hello," though she never expected what came after.
"Is this Lydia Kelley?" An unfamiliar voice asked her with persistence.
"Yes, this is she."
"It's unfortunate that I tell you that Geneva and John Kelley have been in an accident and are currently admitted at Newman's Memorial Hospital in Winston-Salem, North Carolina. You are the only living relative in contact."
The breath once held in her lungs evaporated into thin air, and for once she struggled to catch it.
"What is their state?" She asked with hesitance.
"I cannot inform you over the phone. Thank you for your time, miss. Again, I am sorry."
Then there was silence on the end of the line.
Guilt seeped into her skin.
Not because she had left, as she had no choice.
Not because she had very little relationship or care for her parents.
But because ever as her body wracked with tremors, no tear fell from her eyes. Her heart didn't pound with hurt.
All that she could simply reply with was, "okay," even though there was no one on the line to reply back.
_____
The frayed edge of her sweatshirt was the figment of her attention as she waited with the small, repacked luggage. She never thought she would be repacking this quickly. She never thought she would be putting herself in the den with hungry lions after she had just survived.
The hustle and bustle around her made her slightly uncomfortable, as she was more familiar with a slower pace, though she was fairly used to catching planes on her own. Lydia pulled the edges of her sweatshirt of her hands, hoping to provide her with warmth.
Her mind questioned if she was making the right decision. Then, she realized, in her haste that she had forgotten to contact Etta about her upcoming absence. She struggled to dig the phone out of her messenger bag and click Etta's name at the top of her recents. She waited for a second, taking a deep breath beforehand.
"Hello, darling! How lovely it is to hear from you!" Etta's voice chirped through the receiver.
"Etta, hi," her voice cracked from lack of use, "I need to take off the next few days."
Sadness creeped into her heart, though she struggled to fight off the loneliness cloaking her like an all-too-familiar blanket.
"Are you okay, Lydia? Where are you?" The light air surrounding her mood went to tense very quickly.
"My...parents were in an accident. I'm catching a flight back to North Carolina," she explained.
"Lydia..." She pleaded, "I am so sorry."
Lydia couldn't decipher what her own next few words were, only the fact that she struggled to get them out of her mouth.
She brought the phone away from her face, ending the call.
She was alone.
But maybe it was better this way.
She couldn't hurt anyone and they couldn't hurt her back.
YOU ARE READING
Deviant
Werewolf"I could trace the curve of his face with the glance of my eyes. An elongated nose, with a wide base making a staple on his unique face, and his coarse curls gathered together in a flock, falling over his forehead with the tilt of his head. Eyelids...
