Untethered | ✏

2

My past is an armour I can't take off, no matter how many times you tell me the war is over.

Len lost his job at the police station one week after that day, and couldn't find another since. I didn't even know why Mom was trying. For some reason, they still had hope that their lives could continue. But how could they? After all that'd happened, how could they even dream of normality?

It was the same hope that had brought our two broken families together. How Len saw past the dangerous image you had built for our mother, I could never understand. But I couldn't have been more happy that he did. Mom was a good person. The last thing she did was raise you up to be a murderer. 

"Ivy, Mr. Henderson is here,"Mom knocked on my door and popped her head into my room. I jolted up from my desk, quickly shutting my notebook. The last thing I wanted was for Mom to see my letters. She didn't need to know that I missed you. You didn't need to know that I missed you.

I groaned. "Can't you tell him I'm sick?"

Mom gave me a sympathetic smile. "It's just for an hour."

"That's what you say every week, but it never feels like 'just an hour'. It feels like a century!" I wish I could say I was exaggerating, but I wasn't. Me and math did not go hand in hand. It didn't help that my tutor was a psycho. He was obsessed with three things, and three things only. Numbers, Star Wars and fashion. 

I don't mean to sound awfully stereotypical and narrow-minded, but I was more than half convinced that he was gay, until a few weeks ago when I saw him walking with a blonde woman, a boy who looked about Iz's age and a girl around two years younger. When I asked him about it later, he beamed proudly and told me their names were Luke and Leia. 

"Come on, he isn't so bad!"

"Mom, were you even listening to his story about the guy who's happy when he spends money, and sad when he's broke?" I asked, cringing even as I recalled it. 

Mr. Henderson was a psychotic psychologist. I failed to understand how he could cure other people's problems when he couldn't even solve his own. I mean, okay, so he could solve math problems. But that was it.

"Was he 'buy'polar?"Mom asked, drawing quotation marks with her hands and laughing at her own joke. 

I rolled my eyes. "Why are all parents like this?"

If you were here, you would've made another pun just to get on my nerves.

I walked down the stairs as slowly as I could, hoping to waste as much time of the class as possible. Ever since I started getting home-schooled, my teachers and my family were the only people I interacted with. It got lonely, but it was better that way. The less people I loved, the less people who could leave.

. . . . 

"Ivy, I have something to tell you,"Maya said, plopping herself onto the bed. 

"I knew  you stole my chocolate pudding!"I shout-whispered so that her parents wouldn't know we were still awake. 

She smirked. "Well, yes, I did. But I have something else to tell you."

"Josh finally told you he likes you?" I asked, getting excited. Everyone shipped those two. Maya, being the sweet, composed kid, was only ever talkative around Josh. He acted like he didn't care about her most of the time, but he did little things for her that I couldn't help but notice and swoon over. This one time, he-

"Why are you girls still awake? You have school on Monday!" Mrs. Patel's voice boomed from the doorway, interrupting Maya's train of thought. I prayed she hadn't overhead the last part of our conversation. If Mrs. Patel found out that Maya so much as talked to boys, she'd cut out their hearts and eat them. That woman gave me nightmares.

 I quickly scrambled under the covers, while Maya rubbed at her eyes groggily and stood up. "Ma, it's Friday night. We have plenty of time before school,"she reasoned in that peaceful way Maya always handled things.

Maya's mom shook her head frustratedly at her daughter. "If you don't sleep now, you'll wake up late tomorrow morning and your entire sleep cycle will get messed up."

"But we can still wake up early tomorrow morning!" I protested, in a manner completely opposite to Maya. While she was the calm, I was the storm. 

Mrs. Patel threw me a look that suggested I stay out of it unless I wanted to be deep-fried like her specialty curry. "If both of you aren't asleep in the next five minutes, I won't let you have any more sleepovers,"she warned Maya. 

"This is why we have sleepovers at your house,"Maya muttered, then closed her eyes and fell asleep. I could always count on Maya to be the good girl. I didn't think anyone could find out a flaw in her, but you did.

I never found out what she wanted to tell me, because three nights later, she was dead.

. . . .

"Why are you crying?"Izzy asked, climbing onto my bed. I tried to smile, and wiped away the tears, but it was too late. This was getting into a routine for me. 

Hey, Ivy, what are your hobbies?  Crying when no one's there, wiping away my tears when I hear someone coming and faking a smile when they see me, of course.

"Did you get hurt?"she asked, a worried look on her face. Although Iz was a drama queen most of the time, I loved talking to her. She was observant, just like you. She noticed things that most others wouldn't. 

I nodded, unable to stop the tears from flowing down my face again. She touched my hand, her big blue eyes filled with concern. She looked so much like her sister. Sammy would be proud of her. 

"Where?" she whispered, inspecting my arms for wounds. 

"My heart,"I whispered back, ashamed for crying in front of her. Ashamed for crying at all. 

She'd lost someone too, but she was holding on. As you grow older, it's not only your bones that are more susceptible to damage. Your heart is, too.

Izzy jumped off the bed in a hurry, making a mad dash for the door. It looked like I'd scared her off once and for all. 

A few seconds later, she ran back into my room, wearing a little white coat with a red cross stitched onto the pocket, and a stethoscope around her neck. 

She placed the bell end on my wrist. I pulled down the sleeve of my sweater hurriedly, hoping she didn't see something she wasn't supposed to, but she just placed it back over my sleeve and listened. 

I threw her a questioning glance, but she did nothing but smile. "Sammy always told me that you should wear your heart on your sleeve."

. . . .

A/N Forty reads in a day?! You guys are the best! 

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