Unforetold (Under Construction)

Chapter 6

I pretended like I was returning to consciousness. "Ugh," I moaned. "Wha-what happened?"

Dad turned around and looked at me. "So, your finally up, now, are ya? Well, I thought we might go on a little vacation, and I saw this nice restaurant and stopped by." Uh huh...I'm barely living, we're in the middle of nowhere, and you're calmly implying that this is just a little vacation. I sighed and got out of the car.

We went inside and I smelled alcoholic drinks, cigar smoke, and beans. Immediately my dad started acting as if he didn't know me. He sauntered over to the bar and asked for a sample of some sort of beer or wiskey or tequila while smoking a cigarette, and I went to the bathroom. After doing my business and fixing my extremely pathetic appearances, I came out and sat down.

A young waitress came and asked me something in what sounded like Spanish, but seeing as how I said "what sounded like," I obviously didn't understand what on this gorgeous earth she was trying to say to me. I didn't really know what to do, though, so I just stared at her like a...a...like a toothpick with the eyes of a large tuna. She asked me again in Spanish, and I just looked more confused, wishing she would just get the point.

Finally she asked, "Hablo espanol?" I kind of was able to guess what she might be saying, so, hoping she was saying what I thought she was, I shook my head. Then she asked me if I spoke English. There we go lady, great job. Finally making progress, here. I nodded. "Would you like anything, miss?" She asked, with a very thick accent.

"Um, no thank you." I was desperately thirsty, and hungrier than I could remember. But obviously, considering my current situation at the moment, eating didn't seem to be in my near future.

"Well, you just let me know if I can get anything for you."

I just sat there, bored, trying to figure out how I might be able to eat something, until my dad finally stood up and grabbed my wrist, pulling me to the door. He was unsteady and his words were becoming slurred. I think the bartender guy became aware of what might happen if my dad went driving in this state, so he asked him if he didn't want to spend the night here on one of the booths or something.

"NO!" Dad shouted, and before anyone could even think of doing anything else, he ran out to the car, threw me in and sped down the road again.

I was wondering if I was going to ever eat again when my stomach gurgled so loud and long even my dad took the hint and tossed me an old piece of...something. It looked like it might have been bread at some point, but I had no idea what it was now. But I didn't care. I shoved it down my throat, trying not to pay attention to the fact that it tasted like dirt and smoke. It seemed to content my stomach for the time being, so with nothing to do and tired as heck, I slept.

I was mowing lawns. Everything was kinda pixelated, and looked like the game Sunday Lawns. I laughed, and mowed away, dodging hedgehogs and dogs and picking up cans of gasoline. I was actually having fun. But then one of the hedgehogs grew big and mean and started to chase me. "Okay, this is weird," I thought, running around a corner to get away from the hedgehog. Nope. Still chasing me. Hmmm. I found a can of gas and got 5 seconds of turbo. I tried blocking the hedgehog with a corner of hedge, but that didn't work, it just helped it to corner me. I screamed. A big voice from the sky boomed, "SHUT YOUR PATHETIC CRAPPY FACE HOLE!" There was an earthquake. A BIG one. My eyes started closing. I forced them open, but they kept closing. I had to keep them open or something could fall on me from the earthquake. I opened them so hard, I woke up.

Dad was shaking me. We were at...uh...where exactly were we? Dad kept an iron grip on my shoulders, pulling me out of the car and shoving me towards a shack that just looked like 6 boards and 3 nails put together by a 4 year old. I felt like throwing up my bread. Is this our house?

Before I could contemplate, dad called me something and dragged me over to a corner of the shack and chained my ankles to some chains connected to the wall. I really was surprised that I couldn't pull the whole house down my tugging on them. But I just couldn't laugh. So much had happened since I'd laughed. Could I even laugh anymore? Or smile? Is it possible for one to find it impossible to laugh or smile? Is this what depression feels like? How long will I have to stay here?

I just couldn't take it anymore. I had held it back far to long. I didn't care if dad kicked at me or told me to shut up or screamed profanity in my ear.

I leaned back my head, shut my eyes, and like a lonely wolf to the moon, I howled. I wailed. My piercing cry shot through the desert, echoing on all that dwelled there. A few coyotes answered.

I took a deep breath and did it again. I probably went on like this for most of the night, calling out to anyone and anything that would listen.

And you know what? It felt good.