Harmless

Chapter 1 : Another day; Wasted

2:04 a.m

I can't sleep. My brain is racing with thoughts.

My heart pounding so loud I can hear it.

The room is quiet.

The house is the same, filled with dead silence.

My music is playing low in my ear phones.

My ears still straining themselves to hear the outside noises. Waiting for and unknown sound to make me jump.

I can't go outside, but I'm going to sneak out the back door.

I need to be awake for the sun rise and smoke another cigarette.

I need to feel cold and feel the chills run up and down my back as I imagine what would happen if the sun never rose again.

My feet shuffle down the small dim hall, lit only with a small, almost burned out light bulb.

My slender hand wraps around the faded bronze knob and gently turns it till it opens a crack.

Slowly I peel the the door open, just enough for me to slide out.

I closed the door behind me and sat on the floor.

My hands ran themselves over the cement, feeling the small grains of dirt collect on the bottom of my hand.

My mind begins to wonder yet again to another memory I wish I have forgotten.

My mother screams at my father to leave and shoves him out the door. She began to throw out his clothes and continued to call him horrible things.

I hid under the table and cried.

Why is my mom doing this? Don't leave daddy, please I need you. Please stay here! I silently pleaded to myself.

I'm only 9 years old I need you daddy! Please fight back or I will!

My father collects his clothes from the ground and threw them in his truck, the light baby blue truck he takes me to school in ever morning and picks me up. The truck I've learned to love and call it "The Blue Bus."

My mom screams in Spanish, the words spill out of her mouth like poison. I know what every single words means. I crawl from under the table and stand behind my mother. 

She still yells at my father and continues to threathan the divorce she's been  'planning'

My dad spots me and motions towards me to got back under the table and close my eyes.

My mother sees and turns around quickly, She raises her voice. Seeing the fear in my eyes only feeds her anger.

Telling me I should've stayed in bed and that I shouldn't be awake at this time.

I was angry, my father didn't say anything to defend himself or me. I began to yell at my mother.

"How can I sleep with this? Do you even care what you're doing to me mom? Please don't make daddy go! If he goes, I go! If I cant be with him nothing will be the same! Why are you doing this mom!? What has daddy ever done to you!" I was telling her everything she should already know. Yet, she would not listen.

She raised her hand, I knew what was coming but I could not move. I was struck with fear.

She slapped me clear across the face and I feel out the door onto the cement ground. My hands bracing me from hitting the ground, my hands felt the grians of dirt beneath them, something I wouldn't dare forget.

My dad rushed towards me and picked me up.

He whispered to me, "Come on Baby girl, were going for a ride."

We rode to a near by hotel in the next town over.

I asked to take a shower to wash off the dirt and tears.

Next thing I know, I'm filling up the tub, locking the door and pulling myself under water.

     Trying to forget the feel of the

             dirt, beneath my little hands.

Its sad how something so small and remind you of so much.

Like when a baby opens his eyes for the first time to stare at you.

Only you.

You're going to remember that small moment. For the rest of your life.

Each time you remember that very minute, is another time you swear you won't forget.

Like the perfect moment when you're with your friends and your favorite song comes on and it happens to be their favorite song too.

You're going to remember that moment when you guys ran to each other and screamed. Then automatically you all start spontaneously start dancing.

Because at that spilt of a second, you shared the same emotions and you were so damn happy you did.

The little things can also remind you of bad memories too.

Things like your first kiss and your first cut.

Things like that are small but play a big part of our washed up lives.

Those small things we capture become in printed into our minds.

We will never forget them,  but how would too?

                I would die to forget them.