Tainted by You | ✔️

chapter 3

I've been walking on the sidewalk for some time, trying to remember the way to my old house from this neighborhood. I check my watch for the time. It's been only a little over an hour since I left.

I wonder if my father is conscious, awake. I wonder if he is trying to remember how he ended up on the ground, beaten to a pulp. I raise my hand over my aching and bruised jaw as I remember the fight. My neck has gone back to it's normal coloring.

I'm at the edge of my old neighborhood, vividly remembering what happened the last time I'd been here. My heart aches for her. I can see her skin paling, I can hear her screams as she'd fallen to the ground. I can feel her arm gripping my wrist, as if it could keep her from death. I hear the snickering of the group as they sprinted away, I feel the bile rise as I had thrown up beside her. I should've called the ambulance sooner. Those two minutes I crouched over her, frozen as I listened to her muffled cries, I'll never get back. In those two minutes I should've called someone, anyone who could help.

Maybe she'd still be alive today.

...

My old neighborhood is small and poor, with ill looking houses and littered allies. It's eerie at night here, and there are small groups of criminals that roam the streets on occasion, and I believe that my mother had been shot in the head by a gang. I had heard several people snickering and numerous pairs of feet sprinting away. Our neighborhood is called Redwood, but most refer to it as "the hood". I don't blame them. Some of the past residents are in prison now, whether that be for murder or robbery. I've witnessed secret drug deals and drunks stumbling along the road. My mother and I were always struggling with money.

We didn't fit into Redwood, but that was all we could afford. I come across to my old home, expecting it to look overgrown and vacant. But I see new curtains in the windows, different plants in the flowerbed. Someone else has moved in. Where am I going to sleep? I was planning to break into my old house and crash there for the night, but someone else lives there now. Someone else is sleeping in my dead mother's bedroom, someone else is using our kitchen. I get angry, thinking that whoever lived there now has taken something I deserved. I decide to rest on an old splintered bench until sunup. I'm too tired to think of the rest of my plan. I lay on the bench, struggling to get comfortable. I clutch my bag to me, and sleep lulls me instantly.

...

I lazily wake up, not minding the cotton soft fabric or the strap over my eyes, not paying attention to the low voices I hear. I've never had a dream this realistic. It's not another nightmare, so I make sure to stay asleep to see where this one goes. It'd be nice to have a different dream. I can practically feel the fabric seat under me as I'm thrown into.. a car, maybe? I can even hear the car doors slam shut as four or five voices chime in.

I can't make out what their saying, but when you're dreaming you aren't supposed to be able to really make sense of it, are you? I can feel the car driving, then parking as the car doors are flung open. I never knew that your mind was able to make these so realistic!

I can almost feel myself being picked up and slung over a shoulder, a very skinny one. I don't know if I like this dream. I struggle to open my eyes, as I think this dream is going to turn into a nightmare. My eyes finally open, but I am met with more darkness. I can still feel the fabric over my eyes and in my mouth, which is pretty unusual. I can still feel that bony shoulder under me, and as I finally get a glimpse outside of the fabric over my eyes, I realize.

This isn't a dream.

Thanks for reading! I hope the ending was a bit of a surprise! Oh, and I finally got a title for this, it's going to be called "Tainted by You". Keep reading, because I have a ton of more ideas for this story. ;)

~Cassie :)