Just Another Generation

Ch 3

ANGIE's POV:

Last time on Just Another Generation~~~ "Angie," my mom finally asked. "Did you have another bad dream?"

My lips parted and I stared into her eyes. She hasn't asked me about my dreams for so long, I began to feel like she didn't care anymore.

"Did you," she repeated.

I hesitated before nodding.

My mom bit her lip. "Me too," she said.

I gulped.

She continued. "Were your dreams... About your father?"~~~~

My eyes widened. "Excuse me?"

She glanced at the ground quickly before looking up at me with a not-very-well-hidden desperation in her eyes. "I was just asking," she said with a gulp.

I sighed before nodding. "Yes," I whispered. "They were about him."

"How is he doing?" She asked.

Shrugging, I hesitated. "Not well... at all. But at the same time, he's still alive, and I'm trying to help him. Even though I can only see him in my dreams..."

My mom brought her fingers to her mouth and started to know on the tips of her nails.

"We could go back," I hesitated to say.

As those words came out of my mouth, I instantly regretted it.

My mom lowered her hand from her mouth and looked at me, shocked, that I would suggest such a thing.

"You know," she said. "We wouldn't have left if we thought he could change. He was dangerous, Angie. And according to Auntie Trish, he still is."

I rolled my eyes. "Why did you even ask me about this if you already had an answer from her?"

She shrugged. "I needed more than one source. I've been having dreams about him, but all they are, are flashbacks. I don't really know how he is right now."

My lips parted in shock as she confessed why she truly come to me about this and frustration grew a pit in my stomach and brought a frown to my face.

"You're pathetic," I said standing up.

I started walking away but she grabbed my wrist before I could.

"Angie," she said softly. "I'm sorry. I try my best, I really do. I'm an adult, and I'm your mother, but I still do a lot of things wrong."

I took a small breath of air, pulled my wrist out of my mom's grasp, and looked into her eyes.

"I have to go to school," I said coldly before walking away to get my shoes and jacket on."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Please Dad," I whispered to myself from across the counter. "Please put the bottle down."

As usual, he couldn't hear me.

He twisted the cap off the Vodka bottle and threw it on the ground. He brought the bottle up to his lips and took a sip.

"Dad," I said a little louder. "Look at me again."

His eyes never glanced my way as he took another sip.

Frustrated, I leaned over to grab the bottle.

My mouth flew open as my fingers touched and wrapped around m father's hand and the solid bottle.

I wasn't the only one who was surprised.

My dad looked confused. He stared down at his fingers with frightened eyes.

I steadied my breathing. "Dad," I said calmly. "Let me have the bottle."

He took one of his hands off the bottle and grazed mine with the tips of his fingers.

I felt a strange tickling sensation as he slightly rubbed his hand up my wrist and towards my elbow.

I gulped nervously, wondering what the hell was going through his head right now.

Could he finally see me again?

He made his way up my arm and to my shoulder.

I tried to keep steady breaths. If he traveled down, I'd fricking kill him. I don't care that he's my father. I'd defend myself from him if I had to.

Fortunately, he kept traveling up.

When he reached my cheeks, he paused, and stared into my eyes.

For only a second, his eyes showed pure innocence and peace because a millisecond later, his eyes turned dark, he yanked the bottle out of my grasp, whispered, "Be gone, Demon," and hit my cheek with his hard bottle.

I fell back onto the dirty floor and my eyes quickly closed.

A ringing began in my ear.

**************

"Hey, Angie! Wake up!"

I felt a hand touch my shoulder and I flinched.

I opened my eyes to darkness.

I lifted my head from my arms and exposed my face to the light.

"Good afternoon Sleepyhead! It's the end of the school day! Wanna walk home with me?"

I ignored his question.

I felt a stinging in my right cheek.

I held my hand against it to feel a warm, liquid oozing down my face.

I lowered my hand to see blood on my fingers.

I felt the dream.

I felt the bottle hit my skin.

It was all real.

"Angie, you okay?"

I looked up. My friend, Ryan, was standing in front of me.

"I'm fine," I choked out, trying to stand up.

My legs weakened and I staggered to the ground.

Ryan gasped, catching me in his arms.

"What happened," he asked me.

I gulped. "Nothing. Just feeling woozy after my nap."

He looked at my cheek. "What about this cut? How'd you get that?"

I shrugged.

Ryan bit his lip. "Come on Angie. I've known you since you moved here to New York. I know when there's something wrong. And coincidentally, this always happens after you take a nap."

I looked down trying to avoid his gaze.

He continued. "Now, tell me! What happened!

"If I told you, you wouldn't believe me," I whimpered. "You'd think I'm crazy."

He lifted my chin with his fingers. "No, I wouldn't."

I felt a tear slip down my cheek.

He wiped it away with his thumb. "Just tell me," he said encouragingly.

I gulped. "Not yet. I'm fine, Ryan. I promise if I t gets worse, I'll let you know what's going on."

Biting his lip, he backed up. "Alright. Sounds like a deal. Sorry I'm trying to force everything out of you. I just want to make sure you're safe."

I nodded. "I get it Ryan. And yes, I'll walk home with you."

"You wanna come over for a little bit before going back to your place? I can help you clean up."

I nodded. "That'd be great."