Broken (temporary title)

Chapter 4

I find myself in bed, in my room, dressed in a different shirt, wearing pants instead of jeans. My head still hurts, but just slightly.

After a few more seconds, the stench of old vomit hits me. I turn to find my jeans on the floor, covered in the vile stuff. A few inches near my jeans is my jacket, one big puke stain on the stomach of it. Weird, I was pretty damn sure I had a navy blue jacket on, not an olive-green one.

I get up and walk around a little bit to make sure I'm stable. Really, I feel fine. I see that Sahara isn't there. I figure she's in school, since there's no way I've been out for a whole week.

I walk out of the room clumsily and fall face-first in the tight space before the main room that's half "living room" and half "kitchen". I quickly get up and keep walking, steadier this time. Striker is asleep, drooling on the couch. Dad is sleeping too. I feel strangely happy about this. It's good for Dad. He's at least sleeping enough to stay alive until we decide we don't need to anymore.

"Savanna! Oh good, you're awake!" I jump the sound of my sister's voice. Sahara looks almost overjoyed to see me. She runs over and takes me by the shoulders. Her grip on me is firm, tight, and suddenly I feel sick again.

"Something's wrong," I choke out, and when she doesn't reply, I kneel down and prepare myself for the worst.

"Savanna, no. Get up. Nothing's wrong. Just... strange," she blurts.

I rub my head, which I'm scared will start spinning again.

"Savanna, stop. You're scaring me!" She tightens her grip on my shoulders. "Did you meet Venice?" She asks softly.

I think for a while, then shake my head no. "Who's that?"

I expect her to sigh of relief or something, but she just keeps talking, fast and out of breath.

"Tall girl, in her teen years...?" I begin to remember. "Straight black hair, olive skin, bright blue eyes?"

I nod and find myself big-eyed and tearing up. "Why?" I squeak out. I fear her answer, but my inner voice is full of hope. It's probably nothing, don't fret about it. What's the worst thing you can imagine right now?

"I went to look for another pair of shoes for you at the market, since you vomited pretty badly on your old ones. They were getting small on you, anyway. This tall girl stopped me and asked how I was doing, except she kept calling me Mary. I tried to ignore her, but in the end just apologized and told her I wasn't Mary. We had a bizarre argument, but I made something up. Told her I was Lina, I think. I don't know. She said something about a brother and I just... I don't know. I didn't know what to do. So just left. Then she blurted out something about a divorce and calling the police, and sh-she started following me home. Savanna, it took me four hours to get home! I ran around this entire town so that she would figure out where we lived! I had to sleep at the grocery after I lost her, and only after an hour did I finally get back here! And then I had to take care of all three of you cause you were drunk too!!!" She weeps.

I'm crying now. I can't stand to see people I love cry because of something that I did. I hate hurting people. "I'm sorry, Hara, I'm sorry... I couldn't help it."

"What about the girl?" Sahara sobs.

I shake my head in frustration. "I don't know! What does she want from us?!" I shout. "I'm Mary!" I blurt.

Sahara sits me down, nodding her was after everything I say.

We sort it out. The girl has a name, Venice, apparently, but we call her Tall Girl. Obviously she's as confused as we are, since Sahara and I are identical, but what's strangest is that she cares. Who knows how long she's been watching us?! She could think we're drunks! Twelve-year-old drunks that have bad memory and don't fucking know their names!

I realize I've said half of this out loud. Sahara strokes my back, humming a lullaby, but it brings back memories of Mom and our twisted, ruined lives and I break out into a tantrum and cry my fucking guts out.

Sahara brings me a blanket from our room, an old thing we've had since we first "moved in". She tucks it over me and sings until I stop. She smiles gently and continues until I'm asleep. But she appears in my dreams; first as blanket, and then as my old room, in out old house, I out old lives. I want it all back!

And Sahara's beautiful singing lulls me through every bit of it.

I wake up in tears again. Dad's kind of tears, but more real. Why did Mom ("Mrs. Brent"), do this to us? I want my life back! Look what she did, where we're at! She stripped us of our happiness, the one thing that had us going. I just want to be happy! Is that too much to ask? What's the point of living if everyday, we just come back to this??? Why don't we just die, right here, right now? Huh?! Why???

I find myself saying this out loud again. Suddenly, Sahara gets up from the floor where she's been staring at an empty space in the distance and places a hand on my shoulder.

"Because maybe there's something to live for," she answers, then leaves. Before closing the remains of the door and walking out of the trailer, she pauses, turns, and says with a sympathetic smile, "You sleep. I'll go out. "

In my head, I thank her a thousand times. Outside of it, I say nothing. My throat hurts, and I'm out of tears. So I like back down and just hope I wake up at home, our real home. Anything is possible, right? If it is, then maybe Sahara is right. Maybe there is something to live for. Right now, I think that something is hope. But we can't live on hope our whole lives. I'm sure it'll get old.