Dreaming of a Chance

Hopeful Delusions

Rosie goes to her room, now broken by the rough hands of her father who says he only beats her because she doesn't want her to turn out as her mother had. She despised him when he used those despicable words. Her mother had been the warmest and most accepting person she had ever know when she was alive. She never thought that she would end her life just to escape the same abuse that her father was now inflicting upon her. Unfortunately, she had and it meant that the only person he had left was Rosie; making the abuse she had endured become a lot worse. Everyone noticed but no one would ever say anything because it wasn't their problem. Rosie came from a poor household so what would it matter if she suddenly just didn't come back one day. This thought ran through her head every time he would beat her, sometimes within an inch of her life. This time he had let her off easy, only hitting her a few times before growing bored and going back to watching tv. Today she wanted to get out and since she had already been out, why not take the risk again. She quietly locks her bedroom door and goes to her window, it had been years since she had snuck out so she wasn't sure she would be able to. She gets her desk chair and wheels it over to the window before unlocking the window and pushing it a bit. The window made a creaking noise as she pushed and she could hear her father get up from his chair. "What the fuck was that Rose? You better not be tryin' to get out again! I let you go easy today but I can make your life a whole lot worse if I catch you sneaking out!" He yelled from the front room. She could hear his heavy footsteps on the wood flooring grow closer, making her heart begin to race as she tries to open the window faster. He got to her door and turns the knob, upon discovering it was locked he became infuriated. "How dare you try to leave! Have you got no respect for your father or are you that ungrateful!" he yells through the door as he continues to try and force the door open. She climbs out the window and makes a run for it, kicking up wet leaves and nearly losing her footing a few times. Her room was to the front of the house so getting away was never too hard, it was always going back that broke her. She finally thinks she's a safe distance away so she takes a breather, her lavender hood now becoming wet with rain once again. She starts to walk to her usual place, following the thin gravel path, and up the usual small hill. She walks the path slowly, the soft crunching of the gravel beneath her shoes mixing with the gentle sounds of the now light rain that fell around her. The wind still shook the trees whose branches hung above her, causing loose leaves to gently float down to the damp ground. She goes through the rusty metal fencing, not having to bother with the gate since it had broken years ago and no one had cared enough to fix it. She walks down the short rows of small and slightly unkempt gravestones and she smiles at them, seeming to know the names by heart at this point. "Denice and Robbie Harris, Patty Ruiz, Fiona Becker, Anel Ortega, Cynthia Elizabeth Gray," she says walking respectfully around where the body would be as she had been taught by her mother when she was younger. She had made up stories about these strangers and their lives, making them happy little tales about how they were loved and cared about until they passed away. Unfortunately, she knew the reality of this graveyard. It was for those who didn't really have people to deal with the burial but had wanted to be buried, they were put here out of the way and forgotten by everyone except Rosie. She kept walking until she came to the last gravestone" and lastly, the beautiful and amazing mother Katie Davis. How are you doing today mom? Are you well?" Rosie asks in a soft and gentle voice as she looked at the gravestone with a warm smile.  She begins to imagine her mother standing by her, her usual light blue dress flowing with the wind as she stood there. Rosie looked over and saw the bright brown eyes that had been full of love and the light brown hair that just barely reached her small shoulders with gentle curls made by the same curling iron every morning. When her mother would smile it would brighten up a room and take away any bad thought she could have been having, she almost reached out and touched her before remembering the reality of it all. Her mother was gone and there was nothing that could ever bring her back, all that she had left were these vivid thoughts about what she used to be.