Numb

Chapter 3: Too Much

I looked down at my fingers while I sat in Noah's living room, my head groaned with thoughts.

"why do you do that?" his eyes focused on the blood creeping from the corners of my fingernails. i pulled my sleeves over my hands and cringed at the physical pain that echoed my body as the excess skin caught on the fabric of my school jumper. "sorry," i whispered, just loud enough for him to hear. "geez Elle its not me you should be apologising to, look at your poor fingers, you need to stop."

i could never repay Noah and his family for the kindness they lended me, day after day he carried me from the corner to his living room, where his family offered me all the love and support i could ask for. And beyond anything, this is what i suffered with the most. They acted as bandages holding my broken body together, and I repaid them by stumbling back to the corner almost expecting them to come to my rescue.

I dont know why i allowed myself to keep going back to the corner where she was killed. It wasnt the only route home. In fact is was the longest, but the colours of the trees in the autumn wind and the secrets held in the continuous blue sky contained bitter sweet memories i couldnt forget.

When we were young Dad would hold our hands as we skipped through the forgotten leaves. He let us explore through the lines of trees, and brushed the dirt off of our knees when we inevitably tripped over. We would tear and stain our most beautiful dresses, but create even more beautiful dreams in our explorations. We would return home to listen to Mum scream about the state of our clothing and the dirt in our hair. She would scrub the whole house inside out for the next week, only for Dad to take us out on Saturday afternoon, where he would allow it to happen all over again.

I never really understood why cleanliness mattered so much to Mum, only that a toy out of place, or grime under our finger nails would cause her to pull the hair out of her head and cry for hours.

there is two of those afternoons with Dad i remember the clearest. The first, he bought us ice-cream which i spilt all over my new Christian Dior white dress, leaving rainbow stains all over the front of it. He then chased us through the park and onto the beach, we splashed in the water and then laid in the sand. We were so happy, the three of us lying on the beach, no worries. Mum of course freaked when we returned seaweed in hair, shoes filled with sand. I remember her screaming at Dad, she cried more than ever before. She sat us in the bath and scrubbed us until we bled. And after throwing our dresses away she turned to Dad. And in a moment ill never forget, forever imprinted in my brain, she lifted her hand and slapped him across the face. For a moment she grinned. then the pain consumed her face. She held her hand over her mouth and stared at him and then us. in shock and disbelief she ran to her room, locking herself inside.

We didnt see her until the next week, when she waved goodbye to us like usual. Although throughout that week she aged, and our 34 year old mother now lived in a 74 year olds body. We returned home that afternoon, a lot cleaner than usual but mum was nowhere to be seen. As i laid in bed unable to sleep i heard her car drive in, and the door slam. They spoke slowly, then louder, and fiercer, she shouted, and he yelled. i remember it going silent, then he spoke the simplest yet most powerful words, 'i love you, please never forget that.'

We woke the next morning to the screams of our maid Tessa. We all ran to the kitchen to be greeted by a silhouette of a body hanging from the ceiling, a note that had fallen on the ground read, "it got too much."