Pieces of Something

Prologue

The sun is here, I squint just to see a blur of a shape. It’s a stage, with a podium centered in the middle. The pitch black cloth tries to fade away but I see it. It suddenly becomes so clear where I am. A court yard with plush green grass, little patches of yellow scattered in the neglected spots. Sweaty people crowd around me in their black robes. Square hats morphing all the heads. My palms sweat from both the heat of the area and excitement. A woman with blonde hair and inch thick make-up stands behind the podium. The tone of her skin is discolored at the base of her jaw; where her make-up stops. Her high pitched voice starts the roar of the crowd.

“Congratulations graduates of 2050.”

Chapter 1

The sun is gone and night covers the atmosphere. Everyone is long gone but I couldn’t seem to move myself. The air is darker like a color you can feel, cold in your chest. Time passed too quickly, my legs are numb and don’t want to cooperate when I order them towards the house.

The house door is not shut. Crashing objects sound from inside. I am suddenly aware of myself, like always when I hear father’s anger. My long black hair that flows down my shoulders does not seem to cover my face completely. I pull it in front of my face in a pitiful attempt to disappear. Green eyes, abnormally large, only seem to make me stand out more.

My little frame and smallness is the only thing I can be thankful for.

Father always said I look like her.

“Don’t matter…good for nothing,” He mumbles nonsense as always, leaning against the fridge with Vodka in hand. His body is covered in perspiration and the kitchen smells strongly of mixed alcohol. I walk across the room and try to pull him up straight. My left hand on his back and my right hand reaching toward the Vodka he holds. I should have known better. The bottle breaks against my cheekbone. Glass shards fall to the floor as I stumble back. Red blotches fill my right eye before sight is lost. Adrenaline blends with the pain, creating a trembling in my fingers. His words slur but his eyes are tense.

“Don’t you touch me you monster!”

“You’re the monster you old bastard!” I scream in his direction as I try to see through the blood and find some sense of my right eye. I feel his hand wrap around my hair and swing me to the ground. As if witnessing the sound second hand I hear a loud crack. I can’t comprehend that the noise has seeped from my skull. I try to find up and down as he spits words in my face.

“You killed her and you know it. She would be here if you weren’t.” Saliva spits from his mouth onto the linoleum. His shoe hits my rib cage full force knocking the air out of me. I lay motionless as my hair sprawls across the linoleum floor. I’m like a possum playing dead from a predator. I pretend I am not here, that his hits are to someone else. It doesn’t make them hurt any less. I can’t get myself to lay one finger on my father even when he tries to kill me. I listen as the man called my father stumbles out the door.

It feels as if every hit is impairing my ability to tell right from wrong. Is it ok what he is doing? If I was not born my mother wouldn’t be dead. She would not have died giving birth to me, he is right about that. I push myself up. I know I can’t lie here forever, although the idea is comforting. I turn into the hallway to my right and enter the bathroom. Looking through my good eye I examine the damage. A black eye seems the least of my concerns as glass sticks out of my cheek and parts of my eye. Not the worst I’ve had though. The blood is dried and bright. Funny how beautiful blood can be, the color can stain your memory.

I bite my lip as I find the tweezers. Never ending glass falls into the sink. After some alcohol, the sting is humming in my brain. I close my eyes and listen to the silence in the house. The sound of my breath slows down my racing heart.