Fracture

Part 1

                 

Prologue:

            I can clearly remember the day my world stopped moving, shattering on its axis, standing forever still. Fractures of a memory of the mother I loved so dearly cling tightly to my brain- flashing in waves of beauteous light- ever reflecting the emptiness in my soul.

I was six years old. Playing with my mother in the park was one of my favorite things to do as a little girl, but all of that ended when she left. I was alone, swinging on a park swing until two police officers brought me home to my father. His eyes, usually full of compassion and hope, were disillusioned with sorrow and solemn stillness. It's been twenty years since my mother left without so much as a goodbye. No cards, no letters, no phone calls- nada. What kind of human being leaves her six-year-old child alone in a city park? Nicola Elizabeth Kristoph- that's who.

            My father often tells me I'm like her in many ways. He tells me of how beautiful she was; how her eyes shimmered when the sun shined just right or her long blonde hair gracefully danced behind her shoulders. He tells me of her tenacity and spunk, her vulgar mouth and compassionate heart. He speaks of her with such love, such heartache. He constantly tells me how much I remind him of her and how she would be proud of the woman I've become.

            Proud? I could care less if she's proud. We did it with out her; fuck her pride. There is one thing she left me with that I'll never understand- the nightmares. I dreamt of her often. Usually, my dreams consisted of her being brutally tortured or beaten. Screaming the names of men I didn't know. James, Jack, Josiah, I could feel her, hear her- unrelentingly calling to me, begging for help. Six years ago, those dreams stopped and I've always wondered why. Little did I realize how soon the truth would unravel- how soon my world, yet again, would fracture.