Masked

Chapter Twelve

        After the attack and the amount of blood I had lost because of the two creeps in kid masks, I had passed out on Diego's bed. I didn't realize I had done this until I woke up the next morning in his room. Wincing slightly, I pulled myself up into a sitting position, still under the sheets. Knowing I didn't put them on me, I smiled at the man sleeping, sprawled awkwardly over a wooden chair. As I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, a large creak could be heard.

        Diego suddenly woke up with a jerk. His eyes immediately met mine, and I glanced down. I hadn't meant to ruin his sleep. He picked himself up in the chair, still wearing his black suit. Not having gone to my room, I was dressed in the same clothes I was in last night. My hope was that I could just sneak out and go to my wardrobe to change, but that plan had been foiled.

        "Feeling any better?" He asked, motioning to where I had been shot.

        "Uh, still sore, but I'm ready for what's to come."

        His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "And what's that?"

        "How am I supposed to know? It's only a saying. Now if you'll excuse me." I made my way to the door. "I find the need to change what I wear on a daily basis. Unlike some other people I know."

        Diego scoffed, but let me go my own way. I thought I might stop and check on Mom before I went all the way to my room. My mind kept replaying the events of last night and couldn't help but wonder where she had been the whole time. You'd have to be deaf not to hear the guns being fired, or us yelling, or the chandelier falling. I rounded the corner to find her sitting in her chair by the paintings. I sighed in relief before registering the fact that she wasn't moving. My pace quickened.

        Mom's eyes were dim, and she stared at the floor. Her left arm had been cut open and peeled back. The wires inside were damaged and broken. She wasn't even smiling. In fact, she looked almost sorrowful. It was as if she knew what was going to happen and just gave in. My first thought was that the two cray crays had killed her, but then I remembered something else. Diego's flinch at my words. The way he ran up the stairs. He knew and said nothing. Was that because. . ?

        The truth and the scene in front of me were too much to handle. I shook my head as I walked away, each step coming faster than the last. He wouldn't I told myself. Diego loved Mom with all his heart; how could he even think of harming her? It didn't take long before I was in my room, the door slammed behind me, tears silently pouring down my face. I slid down to the floor.

        "M-m-mom," I choked out, shaking now. "No. Not you too."

        All of the emotions had caught up to me. It felt as though I was crying not only for her, but for every time she had been there for me, and all the things we did together. Never again would she smile and offer me cookies the way she used to when I was young. Her hand would never stroke my cheek with the true love of a mother as she comforted me after a nightmare. She was gone, forever. Dad had made her, and he had passed only three days before. There was no one left to bring her back.

        I hyperventilated — each breath causing my side to flare up in pain. Gradually, I managed to bring myself to my window, and open it up. The brisk air rushed into my room, blowing a few untidy curls into my face. I sat on the windowsill and almost immediately relaxed. It wasn't until I looked up in the skies where the stars would shine at night that I almost broke down again. I traced the invisible constellation with my finger. Cassiopeia. I'll never forget.

        My feet did not touch the floor until I was sure that no more tears would fall. Only then did I let myself remove the bloodstained shirt from my body and change into something else. It was another day of mourning. The black blouse with flared sleeves I picked out matched that feeling. So did the yoga pants I put on. Also black. Using both hands, I removed the headband that lay haphazardly across my scalp. I inhaled deeply through my nose and exhaled through my mouth. I was not ready for what was to come.