Cracks Within

Chapter 2

Monday 8th October 2040.

My eyes snap open as I wake from the nightmare of my past.

I woke up in a pool of sweat, my heart beating faster than it ever has. It's been fifteen years since I've suddenly woken up trapped in the past. Why is this happening again, I think. I can't let my mind run again. I take a deep breath and feel arms hugging me. I'm lying in the arms of the man I've loved for nineteen years and I can only think of one thing; what if this had not happened to me? What if I had said no when Sam asked me to be with him? What if I had never taken that chance? We have been married for fourteen years, but I've always had these feelings. I've never shared them with Sam; I don't want him thinking that I have doubts about our marriage. I love him more than words could ever say. I look over my shoulder to see him sleeping peacefully, the only sound coming out of him is the low rumble of his snores. I turn back to face the alarm clock: 02.36 it read. I sigh in exasperation as I think about having to wake up in less than five hours to start getting the kids ready for school, and preparing to go to work. We live in a quiet suburb where nothing ever happens. It's a gorgeous little neighbourhood; it looks like a village but is more modern. I watch Sam as he sleeps. He always twitches every so often and I fall asleep almost instantly.

I wake up suddenly to the sounds of my thirteen-year-old son, Michael, shouting down the phone to one of his friends. "I remembered to hand in my essay, it's not my fault you forgot!" he shouts angrily. I yawn loudly as I unwrap myself from the duvet, grab my jumper and walk sheepishly out of the room. I walk to Michael's room.

'What's up, Mike?' I say to him, still yawning.

"Liam forgot about his History essay because he found it 'too hard'." Mike said loudly, rolling his eyes. "I TOLD him that my Mom's a History lecturer at a UNIVERSITY that could help him with it. BUT NO. He just hasn't done it, and is now complaining to me, as if it's MY fault! How is that fair?!" he finishes, lying on his back on the bed, rubbing his eyes. I can't help but think that I could still be asleep right now, but I sit beside him.

"Mike, chill. It's his own fault, you're not his personal assistant. Tell him to get off his ass and do some of it before you have to hand it in." Mike looks at me with wide eyes, partly filled with admiration, partly filled with laughter.

"No wonder university students like you. Man, I wish my teachers were that chilled." he says, laughing. I laugh with him, and walk to the door.

"Get your ass in gear." I tell him, still laughing. "You've gotta get to school."

I walk downstairs of the home that we've lived in for twelve years. I love this house. Sam and I chose this house a year after Mike was born. We were living in a one bedroom flat in a dingy council building for five years, and once Mike was born, we ran out of room. However, this house is amazing. It's aesthetically incredible; it's looks like a cottage from the outside but has a ridiculous amount of room on the inside. We've furnished it the same way we furnished our pokey flat; monochrome throughout. Luckily, me and Sam have never grown out of this colour scheme. Saved us a fortune. I walk into the kitchen to see my eleven-year-old daughter, Isabelle, making toast. "Izzy..." I say, eyeing up the amount of toast on her plate. "Why have you made seven pieces of toast?" She looks at me as if I've just asked the stupidest question on the planet.

"Some of it's for Harvey, Mom." she says, as if it was obvious.

"Oh yeah, how could I have been so stupid?" I asked sarcastically. Izzy looks to me with an eyebrow raised.

"Anyway, I'm going to be late from school today, I have extra drama." I choke on my apple juice.

"You've literally been in school for a month, how do you have extra lessons already?" Izzy looks at me the way Sam does when I get basic geography wrong. God, she's just like her father.