Haven Hills

Chapter 1: A Piece of Haven

I get into the front seat of my father's blacked out Suburban, a classic choice for his job. My dad impatiently waiting  inside the car, stares at me intensely. Almost seeing through my thoughts, through the dream I had earlier dreamt. Immediately I became uncomfortable, feeling wrong for trying to make sense of a little girl and a house fire. It was just a dream.

"Ready?"

I broke the silence with a defensive tone. A girl can dream... right?

My father clears his throat before responding. "Your seatbelt." Realizing my mistake I quietly manage to tug on my seatbelt bringing it to a lock. Without waiting for me to finish, my already displeased father takes off into the road, making a sharp left turn the first chance he gets. I stare outside the window taking in the full view of Manchester, Vermont. 

Growing up in Manchester there just wasn't much to see. No comes here to visit, no one comes here live the life they have always dreamed of. We all just somehow ended up here. All around this town was gloomy green trees, gloomy roads and dull skies even on super sunny days like today. Manchester was nothing compared to the roar of Haven Hills, a growing town over 4 hours away. No town surrounding Haven Hills compares with the amount of funding, support and publicity such a town gets. Even then Haven Hills always seems off the radar, never in news eyes, voted "safest" town with the "#1 hospital" in the country, the list can go on. I, having been born in the very hospital that has been established there, take pride in it, however, my father rarely mentions it.

--

My dad keeps his steady eyes focused on the road seeming lost within his thoughts. Judging by the time it was I could already sense the load of traffic that awaits. I sighed deeply, trying to ignore the feeling of the warm, Monday morning sun shining down on my tense face. The sunlight brought an unwelcoming lull causing me to rest my sleepless mind against the passenger side window.

The small girl cautiously step out, welcomed by throat cutting fumes of angry, electric yellow light. Her face coming into close interaction with the excruciating heat, igniting her fragile eyes.

BEEP!

I feel my body turn, immediately feeling a much closer to the angry light. 

BEEP! I jump.

Something devoured by the fire.

The child looks down at her small, brittle feet seeing blood and bumps covering them. Large picture frames that once hung on the wall now rapidly combusting towards the floor, one of which causing miniature 3rd degree burns, like chicken pox, along her legs. She turns looking down the hallway ignoring the fire taking over what was once a family room and now slowly her legs. She locks her eyes with an open door leading to the parents room, carefully holding on to the wall for support.

BANG! Another one.

She screams once again crawling away as fast as she can. She has to find her parents, they didn't leave her, she thought, they must still be sleeping. Just as she reached her parents door a voice catches her ears. "I'm here."

"Mom?!" The little 9 year old tries to yell over the fire. She sees nothing.

BEEEP!

I was jolted forward. "Mom?!"

I was awoken once again by my father. He slammed his foot on the break and kept his hand pressed on the horn. He stared at me in shock, if this was a cartoon he'd have fumes spilling out of his ears. My father wasn't shocked by the terrible driving skills of the cars in front of  us- or so he says. He was surprised by my sudden outburst crying  for my mother, a mother whom I had never gotten the chance to genuinely know. I must not have been aware of the fact I had fallen asleep and seemed to have dreamt up the same dream. This time the vision was long forgotten however, a lingering worryness of my mothers death seemed to have miraculously cloud through my heart. My father continues to stare, waiting for an explanation. "I didn't get any sleep last night." I replied and it was the truth, at least I assumed it was. At this point I was staring at the rear view window watching different cars line up behind my father and I.