Kidding Me

Chapter 9

   Unwelcome dreams of my dad kept reoccurring like the song you always skip but never delete. Memories of him, warm, caring, came and left, pushing me back into the ache of loneliness again, as if it was the last time I was seeing him time and time over. Time over. Time over.

   But then there were the dark, distorted nightmares of blood, blonds and questions.

Who the hell was that girl?

How did she know my Dad?

Why did she want him dead?

Why now?

   And also...

Why do I recognize her?

   It was starting to scare me. My memory was my thing. Myra Hashum never forgot. But that face, that one glimpse, had my thoughts niggling at me constantly.

   Maybe it's just paranoia, like I need to know who's guilty. Or maybe I'm just going plain crazy.

   Dreams weren't the only place where the wound of my dad lied, the trail of his blood reappeared whenever I was alone. When I was out or in town it was okay, it was manly when I was home. I'd here a noise and think - for a crazy moment - he was behind me. The other day I went downstairs to ask him if he'd go get me lunch, only to find and empty couch. That hurt so bad. He got his giant-non-existent fist and punched me in the gut as hard as he could.

   Look, I know I'm blaming him when it wasn't his fault, but the way he looked at the blonde with hurt, guilt and recognition. What did he do? Why should he feel guilty? How did he know her and I didn't?

   Most people turn to drink or drugs as a numbing remedy and yes, I'll admit, I have thought about it more than once. However, there were problems such as I'm 14 so can't buy any drinks let alone find any drugs lying around. My oldest friend would be Jasper, who's 15, and would never let me hurt myself like that. He wouldn't even help me do the pranks like the ice challenge, he'd hate seeing me hurt, even the smallest burn he cause a big fuss over like I was dying in the flames, like an overprotective mum. The mum I never really had. Then I'd be the one laughing about it like a carefree dad. The dad he never had at all. There was this weird thing my dad had against Jasper. He'd never want him to come round and never say why. I used to put it down to him being overprotective when I was little, but now, he aloud me out to parties all the time, like I could be getting wasted every weekend and he would care.

    Anyway, as my remedy would have to be Jasper, falling into old habits, we naturally arranged to go around his. Jasper was usually alone when I came round. Apparently, his sisters were forever doing clubs and his mum had to work extra long hours to maintain a family of 3 children on her own. So it was a surprise to be met with about-my-aged, evenly balanced, blonde, pigtails.

"Who are you?" Blondie spat

"Who are you?" 

"None of your business. What are you doing here?"

"Nothing much, What 'bout you?"

"Well I live here, so why have you come to my house?"

"Your house. What did Jasper move really quickly, not tell me and then sent to his old house for a joke?"

"You're here for Jasper? Who are you?"

"Myra" I answered truthfully enough, no point in being anymore sarcastic.

"Myra who?" she replied, a little too quickly

"Was' with all the questions I don't need an interrogation on my best friends door step!" 

"Best Friend huh? How come I ain't seen you ever?"

"Live here huh? How come i ain't seen ya ever?" I mimicked. "I've been 'ere countless times in the last like, what? Six years is it?"

"Six years! Ha, the only friend Jasper's kept in the last six years is that stupid ging- oh. Erm, Hi. Myra did ya say? I could 'ave sworn it was Emma or somethin'."

"Oh, na, that's just probably 'cause Jasper calls me M. Wait so are you his little sister or something? Bunni or faith it it?"

"Its Hope"

"Ah"

And that was how my first proper conversation with Hope Ithiel went.