Fixing Me ∞ Hood

Chapter 39 - Drunken Memories

May be a little triggering

Everything is just black and dead. That's all I see when I look around. Everything is burned... burned down to the ground like there wasn't even anything here to begin with.

With a bottle of Vodka in my hand, I sat down in the middle of the mess, the mess that was yet to be cleaned after all these years. All that is left is burned and broken pieces of wood that were the colour of charcoal, and the occasional scorched brick here and there. I was very aware that I could, potentially, be sitting on the exact place that one of my family members burned alive, but right now, I just want to be close to them.

My house. Well, what was my house.

I haven't been here in years. The last time I came, I would have been around twelve maybe. It was enough of an reminder that it scared me never to come back again. But here I was, five years later, partially drunk, still clutching onto a Vodka bottle like it was my lifeline while being incredibly emotional.

I sat here, maybe because I wanted time to magically go back and the house to rebuild itself around me; maybe it was because I wanted to be close to my family; maybe it was because I wanted to be at the scene where my family burned alive; maybe it was because I wanted to be here; maybe it was simply because my drunken feet carried me here to be somewhere familiar. Who knows? Right now, not me.

I want to leave, but I don't.

I want to burst into tears, but I can't.

I want to join my family, but I'm not ready.

I want my life to be less complicated, but that's impossible.

I wish that I could wake up with amnesia, but I don't want to forget everything, and I don't want the pain that comes with it.

I want somebody to save me... but it seems like no one can hear my pleas... so why try?

That's what I have to do - what I have to do to get back to my old self. It's been two weeks since the 'double date', and I'm still not where I want to be. Maybe I just need to stop talking. If I stop talking to people, maybe they'll eventually get sick of me not answering and just give up. That's what I want people to do; give up. If they gave up, it would be so much easier.

If I stopped talking, it's not like anyone would care. They don't listen to me anyway.

Looking around me, it finally sunk in that this use to be my home. I used to live here with my family, before they burned alive. Taking everything in, where I was sitting would have been the lounge room; where my family and I spent most of our time, together.

I looked to my left, and saw writing etched into a plank of now blackened wood. I frowned, removing one hand from the bottle of Vodka and reached over to grab the plank. I took another mouthful from the Vodka before looking at the plank, having to blink my eyes to clear the blurriness. I instantly burst into tears when I realised what it was.

Amelia (age 9) - 110cm

Amelia (age 10) - 120cm

Amelia (age 11) - 127cm

Jamie (age 9) - 115cm

Amelia (age 12) - 138cm

Jamie (age 10) - 126cm

So on and so forth. My older brother and sister were only two years apart. Whereas, Jamie and I were eight years apart. Now that I think about it, that seems like a long time, but it wasn't when we were children.

So, a few years later, I came into the picture. A few years after that, so did my younger siblings.

Jamie (age 15) - 163cm