South of Nowhere

1.8

   I drive away.

   I can feel my body shaking as if overcome by some terrible cold which freezes me to my very core, but that is not the truth. The truth is that fear has captured me, its icy tendrils creeping around me and holding me to its chest, like a demon cradling me to it. There was something about his eyes . . . something inhumane.

   My thoughts run to Grace. That lunatic wanted her. I don't him or what he will do to her, but in my fear I can't find myself to care. I don't care about her, she's some petty slut who has never achieved anything in her life and blames it all on me. She's jealous of me because I have been and will always be better.

   Still shaking, I find myself at home. I can hear the groan of the engine as it dies, the jitter of my keys as they sway in my hands, the shriek as I slam the car door. The cool night air bites my skin, chewing away at the fear, but only ends up intensifying it. I need to get inside. That's all that matters now.

   When I arrive inside, I notice that the lights are still on. The golden fuzzy light blurs together as I step indoors, feeling the warm air circulate around me. Yet I am freezing, the heat can not thaw me. And I don't remember how its happening, I don't even know why, but I'm on my knees and I'm sobbing. The fear escapes from my lips, poisoning the world around me and I. Am. Terrified.

 "Bliss? Baby, what's wrong?" A hand touches my shoulder, but I flinch away from it. "Where's Grace?"

  My eyes wander up, meeting the blurred face of my mother. I wonder if I'll look like her when I'm her age, with her smudge of colorless blonde hair and faded blue eyes and skin like a warped piece of porcelain. I wonder if I'll be as empty as she is. I hate her. I don't know when I started hating my mother, but suddenly the feeling suffocates me, drowning me in the darkness that is her shadow on my life.

   "Are you drunk?" She snaps, her voice reminding me of the shrieking of the strings of a violin. "Your sister ruins everything. What did she do to you?"

   "I ha-hate y-you," I sob, not daring to look into her vile eyes.

  "Bliss?" Her voice has taken a softer tone, a hurt one. "You don't mean that. You don't hate family, you can't-"

  "I hat-hate you!" I shriek, another retched breath breaking up my words as I cry. "I hate you and Dad and fucking Grace. I hate this stupid perfect family and this stupid house and this stupid life. I'm sick of everything. Fucking everything!"

   "Language!"

   "Of course, that's what you care about." I laugh but nothing is funny, I'm no longer crying but I can feel the remnants of old tears on my face. "You only care about yourself. You've never cared what I wanted; you didn't care that I didn't like pageants, that I didn't like swimming-"

   Mom's eyes widen to become blue saucers. "I thought you loved swimming."

   "You love swimming, I only did it to make you happy," I tell her. "But what am I without it? Who am I, Mom?"

   "Oh, Bliss-"

   "Don't do that, don't try to pity me," I growl. "I hate you. You made me like this and I hate you for it. I hate you for everything."

  And then I head up the stairs.