Perseverance

Chapter Three: Dumble Dora The Explorer

"Yo, [ ], what ya wanna do?" Masky asked me with such a hyper tone. I was sketching Masky from afar. Thank God he didn't really look at my sketchbook. I hugged it to my chest so he couldn't catch even a glimpse of it.

"Hmm, how about we do some witchcraft for a while. I was reading a book about it earlier!" I piped up, pulling the book out of my book bag.

"Or how about we think of other things?" he asked with a slight fidget.

I pouted, "Aww! Why not black magic?"

I whined like a child and he pat my head like I was three.

"Because, [ ], you'll become an evil, horrible, bitch if you do so."

I stared at him blankly and shook my head as I leaned back on the tree to continue sketching him. While lost in my own thoughts, I heard him exclaim, "Damn! Am I seriously that hot?"

My blood ran cold and rushed back into my face, turning it into a million shades of red.

"What?"

"Don't lie. That was totally me."

"Bullshit! That was an alternate version of you! So... not technically you!" I cried.

He smirked, "You are so cute."

I felt my head getting hot and I hid my face.

Well, on the bright side, he called me cute.

"[ ], you need to learn to say things inside your mind, as opposed to saying them out loud. It really turns people on, especially when you murmur it." he purred.

My face became ghostly pale.

"Oh my gosh, stop being such a frickin' flirt."

The hours passed with flying colors and I soon had to get home. I slowly made my way to the house where my mother and stepfather awaited my arrival. I seriously didn't want to go back home, but I had no choice... all my favorite and beloved, treasured items are being held captive in my room!

When I arrived at my destination, Ethan was waiting for me.

"Ciao, bastardo." I smiled innocently. Ethan wore a puzzled expression on his face as I opened the front door. Please, mind my Italian.

"7:56 [ ], do you know what time you should have been home?" my stepfather screeched.

I scoffed, "I can be out a few extra minutes. I'm not in first grade anymore where my parents had to keep an eye on me. I'm a young adult perfectly capable of making my own decisions."

I ran up to my room and shut the door. It closed all on its own, causing me to jump. I'd forgotten there was a spring attatched to the wall that caused the door to close.

I locked myself up in my room as the memories of my father resurfaced. The happy memories and how suddenly they could be taken away from a young child.

"[ ], calm down." my father coaxed me to calm down as I'd woken up from a nightmare, "Daddy's here. No amount of awful dreams will crush you. I will destroy them." My father told me as I cried into his shoulder. I was five and had such a nightmare it shook me to my core.

Then, the worst of all nightmares began.

"Mommy! They're burying Daddy! Get him out of the box, he has a lot of work to do! This is unfair, Mommy! Daddy has to go to work!" I screamed and kicked as I wanted to help my dead father. It was such a chilly Valentines day that day. I can remember everything I touched was so cold and frigid.

Dad had died by protecting us from a horrific monster. It was a grotesque creature... one that couldn't truly portray a human.

I found myself clenching the sheets over my head, tears streaming down my face as the loud sobs escaped my lips.

My father's body was so mangled, it wasn't truly recognizable. By the time my mother had moved on, I was eight. Even now, I try to relive my father's memories. I'm the only one who chooses to remember how good of a man be was.

Lost in the jungle of my memories, I had fallen asleep...

The next morning, I was greeted with such warm animosity; it was delightful.

"Grounded, [ ], no more chances. I've been lenient and tried to push it past you both but you flat-out disrespect and despise Ethan. You, young miss, are not going anywhere." my mother said matter-of-factly as she crossed her arms.

I scrunched my face up, "Guess I can't go to school today."

"Excuse me, young lady?"

"How do you expect me to go to school, a place, if I'm grounded? Shouldn't I be bolted to the ground? Perhaps actually in the ground? Hence the term "grounded"."

"Just get going to your classes. You're giving me a headache, [ ]." my mother murmured through clenched teeth. Shrugging nonchalantly, I left to retrieve my backpack from my room. Walking to school was a breeze, that was until I was knocked unconscious.