Mother I Miss You

Chapter 1

  I grasped my seat belt tightly, my body shaking viciously. It was happening again. A feeling similar to a migraine attacked my skull as the vision appeared. My mother, her beautiful blue dress soaked in blood. Her eyes still open in shock, her mouth hanging in a silent scream. My eyes squeezed shut, attempting to erase the image from my mind. Impossible.

  The feeling of a hand on my shoulder snapped me out of my trance. For one hopeful moment I thought it was my mother, comforting me after a bad dream as she once had done. But instead it was that of my father. He rolled his eyes and yanked me out of the car roughly. Whispering to me, telling me to stop being so attention seeking and pathetic. I wiped the sweat from my brow and glared at him.

  How could a woman as sweet, beautiful, and kind fall in love with a man like him? He was tall, but with awful posture. His face was creased with lines, not laugh lines like my mother's, but lines of anger and stress. His hair was a light brown that contrasted with his dark eyes. Funny how different brown eyes can be. My mother's were so warm and gentle. His so cold and distant. How could it be the same color?

  He dragged me to the front door of my "new home". My small bag sat near the entrance. He unlocked the door and shoved me and my luggage through, mumbling something about letting the runt inside his home. Runt. A nickname given to me at a young age. Runt. Because I looked nothing like my father. My hair, almost pitch black, my skin at least thirty shades lighter than his. And my eyes. My eyes, a bright green,  with no resemblance to my father's at all. I shared many features with my mother though. Such as my mouth and nose shape, and long lashes. I looked like a younger, recolored version of my mother. And that's exactly why he hated me. I was a walking, breathing memory of her. Which was perfectly fine when she was alive, but he wanted to forget her and my face wouldn't allow that. So I got beaten until my face was unrecognizable to him in his drunken haze.

  I glanced around the house as I removed my high-top sneakers. The house was very plain and empty. The color scheme was a simple green beige combination, the furniture sparse and matching. The kitchen and living room were separated by a swinging door, both rooms were rather bare and immensely boring. I sighed quietly and picked up my bag. My father informed me that my bedroom was the first door on the left when you got upstairs. I gave a small nod in his direction before beginning my journey up the stairs, clinging to the railing.

  It truly was a beautiful house, but I had no interest in that at the time. Directly across from the stairway was a large master bedroom, obviously for my father. I turned down the hallway to my left and gazed at the plain white door. I opened it gently and found that it didn't creak like my old door did. I stepped in the white room and let my eyes explore it. There was a large window across from the door and a simple bed frame and mattress already prepared. On either side of the bed were nightstands, one had a lamp resting atop it, the other had my plain black alarm clock. On the opposite end of the room was a basic desk and standing lamp. The desk had a very plush chair with wheels, but for once that didn't excite me. I threw my bag on the ground and flopped on the bed. Slowly I felt myself drift into sleep.