Secret // Calum Hood

1

Elena

Pain. It is inevitable.  Everyone goes through it.  And everyone deals with it differently.

 

My feet skidded the ground slightly as I swung back and forth on the park’s giant swing set.  There were other kids there, at the opposite end.  They played happily, laughing and running around.  They didn’t have a care in the world.  I adjusted my Ozzie Osbourne style sunglasses, and then just took them off.  It was almost dark now.  The kids would go home, their protective mothers calling for them.  I stood up, deciding it was time for me to go home as well.  I’ve escaped for a few hours.  It’s time to go back.

My house wasn’t far from here.  This neighborhood was known for being carefully constructed so that everything was in a convenient place.  It was kind of like the infamous Wisteria Lane.  It looked so perfect.  Everyone wanted to live here. Smooth concrete streets, lush green grass, and plenty of space. It was the ideal American suburb.

I hated everything about it.

 

It was too perfect, too fake.  Everyone looked great from the outside.  But the inside held secrets nobody dared to share, and the worst part is that everyone ignored them.  Everyone pretended that everything was fine.  Just fine.

 

Of course, I do that too.

 

I walked up the porch steps of my faded blue house.  It really needed a paint job. But Dad was no longer here to do it.  Now if anything needed fixing, it was up to Mom and I to figure it out, or call someone who can.  Making sure to be quiet, just in case she’s sleeping, I unlocked the front door and slipped inside, keeping the lights turned off.  I just wanted to go to my room and fall asleep before the big day tomorrow.  I didn’t want to see Mom because I didn’t know what she would be like right now.  She seemed fine this morning, but today’s events can clearly change that.  On the way, I stopped to look at a picture of my father.  Blinking a tear away, my mind wandered back to early this morning.

 

“You gonna be okay, El?” Dad asked, a concerned look on his face.  He placed his large hand on my shoulder.  I wished he could stay.

“Yeah.  But what about Mom?  What if she gets bad again?” I asked him, worry crossing the features of my face.

“You’ll have to take care of her now.  I’ll be home soon,” he promised.

“You won’t be home for 3 years.  That’s not soon,” I cried.

“Hey, don’t cry.  I can call, write letters.  Time will fly by, and I’ll be back before you know it,” he smiled, pulling me in for a hug.  I hugged him with all of my might, not knowing if I would ever get to again.  He says not to worry, but he’s going to be out there, with guns and bombs and people getting killed.  How could I know if he wouldn’t end up as one of those people?

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you,” I said back in between sobs.

Mom took her turn next, and I tried to hold it in like she was.  She had no expression.  She actually looked bored.  But I can see the cracks.  They said their goodbyes and we watched Dad get on the bus.  As it was slowly starting to drive away, I started to cry again.  Mom grabbed my wrist, but not in a soothing way.

“Don’t make a scene Elena.  Stop crying like a little bitch.  Just shut up, smile, and wave,” she said harshly.

 

I couldn’t blame her for pushing her feelings down. Just when I was about to escape to my room, I saw a light in the kitchen turn on.  I slowly turned to the side, facing her.  She didn’t look as bad as I thought she would have by now.  She still had her clothes on at least, and there wasn’t any certain smell about her that would make  me think she’s doing it again.  She did look tired as hell though, and had certain zombie-like characteristics that made me weary.

“Where were you?” she asked, her voice slightly raspy.

“I was out at the park.”

“Dinner tonight is leftovers.  I’m too tired to cook, if you care,” she said, and dragged her feet back upstairs to her room, where she would no doubt be passed out until it was time to get up for work tomorrow.

I ate dinner, and retreated back to my room, closing and locking the door.  My room is where I felt most like myself.  Or at least, it looked like me.  It didn’t look like the perfect neighborhood outside.  The walls were red, and I had black furniture.  Band posters and vinyls were all over the walls, and the rest of my music was spread all over places in the room.  On my shelf, my chest of drawers, my makeup table, my bedside table.  I went into my bathroom and removed my makeup and took a shower.  I changed into a black t-shirt and no pants.  Pants were not necessary.  I climbed into bed, covering myself with  my black and grey comforter.  I thought about tomorrow.  I really did not want to go.  Although my summer sucked, it’s not like the rest of my life didn’t suck even worse.  I would be forced to be around people who hated me.  People who trip me, and say mean things to me when I don’t understand what I did to make them do that.  Sometimes I think I deserve it.  I mean, I must have done something to make them hate me.  I didn’t want to think about it now.  I fell asleep to The Smiths, letting their music make me temporarily forget the hell I was destined to be in.