Synesthesia

Flashbacks

*There are a few swear words in this, (like two) I just wanted you guys to know that I don't use fowl language, I just feel that it is needed to portray this character effectivley. I hope you guys understand, I don't use this crass language. Swearing is the last resort for the imaginativley disabled. I am not imaginativley disabled.*

Ana

I was about to go to sleep, honest, I was, when I heard a crack downstairs. 

It sounded an awful lot like someone had been hit, and my heart started to race. Caleb's mother coudn't have hit Bonnie, or Caleb for that matter, I wouldn't accept it.

She had been like a mother to me for the past few weeks, I wouldn't accept it. 

I bit my tounge, until I could taste blood in my mouth, a rusty nasty taste, causing red fog to gather in the darkness. It was raining outside, and there wasn't a sound.

Again, another crack, sent jolts of yellow through the red haze. Then there was blue, too, coughing up the red, until all I saw was a gross mixture of blue and yellow, overlapping in some places, causing a nasty army green to be formed.

Yet another crack, this one echoing through my mind. I screamed, I could feel my heartbeat in my ears. My hands were dripping with sweat, and my knees were shaking.

Black started eroding at whatever blue and yellow was left. I shrunk down the wall, hoping I wasn't fainting.

After that, its all very, very, clear.

"Hi Auntie!" I say cheerfuly after a long day at school, "How was your day?"

My aunt gets up and scowls at me, a beer bottle in her hand. Brown wafts out of the bottle and into my nose, it smells putrid. 

Her short, bob of brown hair is sticky with sweat, as if she's been working very hard. I know she hasn't, though, she's probably been reapplying her makeup over and over today so she has something to do. Ever since she lost her job, she hasn't had much to do. There's not much to show for it, though, it just looks like aqua-blue smudges around her eyes and uneven winged eyeliner.

"Little snobby git wants to know how my day was?" my aunt says, slamming the bottle down on the table, causing the house to shudder as if in fright and the bottle to break, "Well, I'll tell little snobby git how my day was. I spent my day here, working my ass off. I can't seem to do enough though, can I? No, little snobby git still needs more. MORE MORE MORE. You need more clothes every five months. You need food every freaking minute. Heck, you need every freaking thing the world has to offer. Have you ever stopped to think that maybe I CAN'T GIVE YOU EVERY SINGLE FREAKING THING IN THE WORLD?"

I'm confused. My aunt has never talked to me this way before, I mean I knew that she had been having trouble with money, but I had never known that she thought I was so demanding. Heck, I even made a concious effort not to bring up money with her. I knew how stressed she was about it.

And secondly, she's always told me she loves me and cares about how I speak. She would never have sworn in front of me. And she never in a million years would have called me a little snobby git. She loved me. I swear she did.

This is not my Aunt Patricia. This is an imposter forced into her body, saying evil, nasty things that she never would say. 

"I'm... I-I- I'm sorry?" I whisper timidly. She slams a fist down on the shards of broken beer bottle, cutting herself. She swears under her breath before looking up at me with glaring, evil, black eyes.

"SORRY?!?!? YOU THINK SORRY WILL CUT FOR THIS? SHIT, ANA, I NEVER KNEW YOU WERE SO LOW. I THOUGHT I'D RAISED YOU TO BE A KIND AND POLITE YOUNG LADY, NOT A 'SORRY' SORT OF GIRL. HECK, I WOULD'VE THOUGHT MY IDOT SISTER WOULD HAVE TAUGHT YOU THAT BEFORE SHE FLIPPIN DIED AND LEFT ME HERE WITH YOU LITTLE SNOBBY GIT," she screams, slamming her hand down on the shards of glass once more. She cries out in agony as she plucks a piece of glass out of her hand.