The Innocent

Chapter 1: Road Trip

    "Matthew... monsters don't exist... Matthew, they don't EXIST. It's just your imagination." My mother's voice echoed in my head; she reminded me every night when I had first started to sleep in my bed. She would rub my cheek and kiss my forehead before tucking me in and shutting the light off. I would lay there as the shadows crept over the room, I became paralyzed with fear. Something was there. It was watching me.

    Why did I remember that now, out of all things? Why that now? I took in a deep, painful breath as I felt something pull in my chest. Fear. The kind, I looked for in horror movies.

    AH.. that was the only time I had been as terrified as I am now... I was such a dumb kid. Ha! Scared of my own shadows.

I stared at my feet as the ground crinkled with each step I took. I followed the lonely highway leading up to Big Bear Lake; it was almost made entirely of dirt. The freezing air had stung my face.

    It's the Summer!? Why is it so cold!?

I let out a visible breath before turning and looking down the empty road, wishing for a stranger to show up. I was so tired; I just wanted to go home.

    Home.

I took another painful breath in relaxing at the distant thought. As I let my breath escape my lips, I watched it drift into the moonlit highway. Another thought had appeared in my mind.

    They won't be there when you get home.

    I held my head as their faces flashed through my head. I tried to get my mind off it, but the images... I kept seeing them; they were still haunting me. I knew that the trip was a bad idea but...

    "Matt it's going to be fine, "I said reassuring myself.

I took a deep breath in trying to calm down my trembling body, and shake the thought but, I knew one thing... it was all my fault...

I looked up into the night sky.

    Mom. You were wrong... You were so wrong.

~~~

    I woke to the clatter of my mother placing plates out onto the dining table, and the sweet aroma of her cooking; it brought me flying out my bedroom, and downstairs in an instant. I stood in the doorway of the kitchen watching as my mother cooked. She hummed along to one of her favorite songs, "Baila Esta Cumbia" by Selena Quintanilla. She twirled towards the counter with the frying pan in her hands singing now as she placed the chorizo and eggs into a few bowls before she screamed for my father.

    "RICARDO! ¡Ven aquí y come mi bondad celestial que hice!"

Trust me, I had no idea what she was saying either; it was my parent's "private" language but, I bet it was along the lines of, "Ricardo! Come eat something before Matt eats it all!", Or at least that's what I think they said when they spoke Spanish. My parents never spoke Spanish other than to each other, older family members and their friends. It's how they gossiped with the kids around.

My mother turned around and gasped, "Mijo! What did I tell you about walking around in your boxers!? Go put your shirt on before your older sisters come down for breakfast! ¡Ándale!".

As I turned to head back upstairs, I rolled my eyes.

    It's not like they haven't changed my diapers before...

Her motherly instincts kicked in as she pulled her chancla off and chucked it at the back of my head.

    SMACK!