Living Nightmare

The Fight

The hallways are long and intimidating. The walls are painted a rich shade of brown. At the very end of the hallway, my Mother grabs the door handle and pauses, turning half around.

"Now, the room isn't as big as you may have hoped, but it's all we have left for you." She warns. She twists the handle and opens the door, leaning in and flipping the light switch. The room is comfortable. The bed is pressed against the wall, draped in thick silk sheets.

"This will be fine, thank you." I respond to her civilly, forcing my lips into an awkward grin.

"The room does have a beautiful view, though!" she walks over to the window and pulls the long satin drapes to the side, peeking into the yard.

I walk over and press my hand against the glass, avoiding the glare coming from the light behind me. I can feel a tight knot form in the pit of my stomach. The yard looks so familiar. I recognize it, I feel as if I'd been here millions of times before. But I knew that was impossible.

I take my hand off of the glass and take a step back.

"Beautiful view, huh?" she slurs her words, glancing back at me.

"Mhm..."

She leans against the windowsill for a moment before leaving without a sound.

I drag my luggage to the closet, tightly stuffing my suitcase between my Father's dress shirts and slacks. I close the closet door and stand in front of the mirror attached to the door. My skin looks so washed out and dry.

"It wasn't real." I whisper quietly to myself before walking to the bed and laying down, staring at the ceiling.

Hours later, I wake up covered in a thin layer of sweat. I sit up and swing my long legs over the edge of the bed.

"James? Are you in there?" I hear Annie's voice call, followed by a soft knock on the door.

The handle turns and Annie pokes her head in.

"What's up?" I ask, my voice sounding groggy as I stretch, slowly becoming aware of my surroundings.

"Dinner is ready. Are you coming down?"

"Yeah...Is dad home?"

Annie nods and I let out a deep sigh. Annie pauses in the door frame and reluctantly continues back down the hall, closing my door behind her. I push my arms against the bed, regaining my balance. Heading towards my door, I glance out into the dark, empty yard, reminding myself of the knot in my stomach.

Heading downstairs I stare at the photos that decorate the walls. Memories from the past few years are plastered on the walls. I am excluded from them all.

The house is built like a maze. Each room is decorated in large furniture and exotic trinkets they must have collected over time. The warm scent of dinner drifts through the air, leading me towards the kitchen.

"James?" I hear my mother yell.

I follow her voice down the hallway until I find a kitchen full of people.

At the far end of the kitchen, Annie and my father sit at the table, adjusting into their seats. My mother makes her way to the table with four glasses between her fingers and a bottle of champagne in the other hand.

"Did you get lost, James?" Annie teases me, looking up and chuckling.

"Yes, actually I did."I respond through a crooked grin.

I pull out my chair and tuck myself under the large mahogany table.

"James, how are you?" my Father asks as if he had seen me not long ago.

"I've been doing alright, yourself?" I ask monotonously.

Small talk between my father and I had always been short and awkward. This was no exception.

"Your mother and I have been well off here. The company expanded last year; thought we'd do the same." he leans back in his chair and chuckles to himself, basking in his success.

"I can tell."

My tone always came out more snippy than intended. There was an awkward, unresolved conflict that nobody has ever addressed, but everyone was aware of.

From my seat at the table, I have a perfect view of the bay view window. The porch light illuminates the backyard shining off of the damp grass. I see the trees sway in the wind as the peaceful sound of windchimes sneaks in through the open window.

My mother settles into her seat with a deep sigh.

"Hand me that bottle, dear." she demands, reaching for the bottle of champagne that she placed on the other side of me just moments before; I oblige.

So, how have you really been, James?" my father persists.

My face contorts into a disgusted expression.

"Dad-" Annie starts before being cut off.

"It's been five years. Why are you coming back now?"

I slouch in my seat, feeling my cheeks turning a bright cherry red.

"He needed help, Charlie. Don't you remember?" my mother chimes in.

"I didn't need help-" I try to mumble, but my voice is lost under my father's aggression.

"That's not a proper excuse." he complains.

"I didn't need help. I'm not crazy." I repeat like a broken record.

Annie sits back, cowering over her plate. I felt a change in Annie. She used to be my support but now I feel so alone.

"James, even the doctor agreed...." my mother rebuts back into the conversation.

I've heard enough. I stand up, pushing the chair out from behind me before storming out of the kitchen, heading back towards my bedroom.

"James?!" she wails. The calls are drowned out from the slammed door behind me.