Our Year Together - Book One

Chapter 2

"Sandy?"

I blink a few times, clearing the fog that had settled over my mind. I look up from my plate of vegetable stir fry and towards my parents. My gut twists at the concerned look they both wear.

"Are you alright? You're not eating." My mother asked, the hazel eyes I'd inherited from her looking between my face and the untouched plate of food. The simple thought of eating makes me nauseous.

I'm not hungry.

"I'm fine," I said over my thoughts as a smile I don't feel upturns my mouth. My mother relaxes at the words and goes back to her own meal, not in the least aware of my lie.

"How was your day? Do anything exciting?" My father asked drawing my gaze to him. I study his worn out and tired features. Greying dark brown hair is groomed back and out of his face. Brown eyes, just as dark as his hair look at me with a question, the worry still there. I shrug as I push food around my plate.

"Same old things. I just sat and observed."

Observed as life continued to pass me by.

"Sounds like fun."

"Oh, it was loads." Bitterness leaks into my voice alongside the sarcasm. My parents either don't notice or they just ignore it. Silence encompasses us. It might as well be hands around my throat by the way it suffocates me.

"So," My mother breaks the silence and those hands loosen. "I got a lot of the housework done today."

Anything but that.

I plead.

"I can tell. The place looks great." My father replied, smiling.

"Thank you."

Talk about something else.

"I think I'll work on cleaning up the attic tomorrow."

No. Why do you act like you're so happy?

My mother looks towards me with that false smile and those fake emotions of happiness. My hands curl into tight fists under the table. The hands around my throat tighten.

Don't look at me with that smile!

"What do you think, Sandy?"

Don't look at me with those eyes!

"I think we should turn it into a nice office space." She continues.

Just be angry at me! Hate me! Yell at me!

"Or maybe a guest bedroom."

Don't keep looking at me as if I haven't ruined your life!

My mother's kind eyes fill with concern when I don't respond to her.

"Sandy? Are you sure you're alright?"

Stop it. Stop worrying about me!

I swallow a lump that's formed in my throat and widen my smile as if there isn't a war raging within me. As if my hate and anger aren't tearing me apart from the inside out.

"I'm fine, just tired." I push myself away from the table. "I think I'll go to bed early tonight." I hurry away from the dining room as fast as my wheels will allow me. The moment I make it the living room I feel like I can breathe again.

Just leave me alone.

I go down the hall rolling past pictures of when I was a kid. Pictures of when I was happy and oblivious to the struggles the future would bring.

Naive idiot.

Anger bubbles throughout my body as I get to my room and close the door behind me. I flip on the light and go over to my desk where all of my homeschool things are. Everything is organized and I know my mother must have been in here cleaning.

"Just stop," I muttered as my hands curl into fists. "Just stop!" My teeth grind together as I think of people cleaning up after me, getting things for me, doing things for me. "Just stop already!" Before I know what's happening my hand is whipping out and shoving everything on the floor. "Just leave me alone." The war raging within me starts leaking out little by little as their eyes filter through my mind. Joy, laughter, and happiness fill every single one.

But I can see it! I'm not blind.

The underlying pity. The underlying relief.

"It's me stuck in this god awful monstrosity. Not you." I spit out the words as if they're a venom in my mouth. "Me." I said as I look in the body mirror attached to my closet. "Not you." Rolling over to it I meet my own hazel brown eyes. Hate swirls around in them. Anger swirls around in them. "Me."

My hand comes up to rest on the cool glass. I see everything flash through my eyes. Everyone running around and playing. Everyone laughing and having a good time. Everyone free to do what they please.

While I'm trapped.

The hand I hold against the mirror closes into a fist.

"Stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

My thoughts responded.

"Like I'm completely helpless. I'm not!" I growled out and there's laughter in my thoughts as the memories respond.

"But you are helpless, silly. You can't do anything."

I shake my head and turn away from the mirror not able to stomach my reflection right now. It's too painful to look at.

"Don't run away just because you don't like the truth."

My hands lift to my head and I grind my teeth together.

"No."

"Yes."

"No!'

"Then pick up the papers. Pick up the mess you made and prove it."

My eyes open and I look at the scattered papers littering my floor. I roll over to one and reach to pick it up. I'm not near flexible enough, though.

"Come on!" I grit out as I lean forward more, my fingers brushing against the paper. "I can do something as simple as this." Even as I say the words, sweat forms on my brow and hot tears run down my cheeks. "I can," I whispered as I lean forward more only to have my upper body weight throw off my balance. I fall out of my chair and land on the floor. The paper in my hand crumples.

Their eyes fill my mind once more and the tears flow free, nothing restraining them as all of my frustrations leak from me. As all of my inabilities become clear as day.

Stop looking at me like that!

I turn on my side and pull my fist to my chest. It feels as if the world is crushing me, making it so I can't breathe.

Just leave me alone.

I cry and cry as I lie there on my floor unable to do anything.

I don't need you.

"Sandy?" My room door opens as my mother enters. "Oh my god, Sandy! Are you alright? What did you try to do?"

Just go away!

My mother comes to my side, but I don't look at her. I can't look at her because I can't bear to see those eyes. Those eyes that haunt me.

I can't bear to see them and I can't bear for her to see mine.

She helps me back into my wheelchair and begins picking up my papers. I look in the mirror and grip onto the monstrosity that is my chair before freezing up as I meet my eyes.

"Just who is the monstrosity?" I whispered as I roll towards the mirror.

The wheelchair?

I questioned as I lift my hand to the reflection of my eyes.

Or the person I've become sitting in it?