Resurrection

Chapter Thirteen: Madness

"It sucks doesn't it."

I had escaped to the backyard, I couldn't stand being in that room a second longer. It's as if the words had flowed right out of my father's mouth and wove around my neck, constricting and tightening until there was no air. I shoved past him, pushing aside his soft grasp, avoiding looking into his familiar eyes. It was only once I had gotten outside could I breathe again. Like cracking a window when you have been in the bath for too long, the hot, misty fog clouding your thoughts; the cold air was welcoming and clear. 

I was now sitting on the swing set Elijah and I used to play on. It was old and rusted, I wonder why Cassie hadn't fed it to the dump yet. But I guess it had become part of her garden, despite whether it was used anymore or not. The grass had learnt to grow around it, the plants learnt to grow up, tangling themselves around the bars in hope to be nearer to the sun. It was only when the swing next to me let out a loud creak that I remembered I wasn't alone. 

Looking over, I hardly recognised the boy next to me. He had grown since I last remembered. His short, spiky blonde hair had spread so it just curled around his ears, making his jaw look tighter, his spikes replaced with soft waves. His shoulders used to be small enough to fit through the tiniest gaps in branches while we sat high amongst the leaves. I wouldn't be surprised if they were as thick as the trunks now, all muscle. Even his voice had changed, the soft ring of childhood discarded and the roughness of manhood put in it's place. Although I barely recognised him there was no doubt who he was. Elijah. 

"Hey I'm sorry about what happened." He murmured, awkwardness clinging to each syllable. We hadn't spoken in years and he knew it wasn't my fault. He had other friends now, better friends. Not to mention his girlfriend. They've been together for four years, ever since they were thirteen. It just so happens that that's also when we stopped being friends. 

"Mhmm", was all I could manage. I wasn't trying to be rude, I was afraid that if I said anything else the hot, burning behind my eyes would turn to tears. I didn't want Elijah to see me cry. 

Taking my lack of response as an indication I didn't want to talk about my parents, he changed the subject, "Remember when we used to spend hours out here?" I didn't need to answer for Elijah to continue. "We used to have competitions, see who could swing the highest, but I was always too scared.  You used to call me a 'little boy'. I remember you never called me a 'little girl' because if I was a girl I wouldn't be scared. I'd be more like you. More brave."

I sighed in recognition. What a child feminist I was. I always hated it when people used girl as in insult. 'You throw like a girl', 'Quit whining like a girl', because girls were just as, maybe even more, tougher than boys. I always loved to prove them wrong. 

Unsatisfied with my response, Elijah pressed on, "Look Hailee, I know you're still just as brave as when we were eight, I know you can get through something like this. Don't get me wrong, I know it will be hard, but Hailee you're too strong to let it tear you apart."

For a second Elijah's blue eyes twisted slightly green, an illusion of dimples and softness clouding his face. But then I blinked and it disappeared, replaced by roughness and strength. The sudden change reminded me of Emmerson, of his smile, his kindness and my heart throbbed. Great now I'm hallucinating, a sure sign of madness.