Tell Me Your Secrets

Chapter 1

They said I'm 17 years old so I cannot live on my own.

Those anguishing events turned into ghastly nightmares, then frightening memories. Now they are merely a fragment of the past. I've moved on, barely, although I can't resist but reminisce with the fragile pictures locked in a dusty wooden box.

I keep them under my bed, it felt like a safe place to conceal the evidence of my past. Those articles might seem of great importance to me but it devastates me every time I go through them. Nevertheless, there is a certain desire to feel the affliction over and over again until I grow immune to them. 

A particular picture catches my eye as I rummage through the box aimlessly. I lie on my bed in a strange position that makes it slightly difficult to pull it out considering the box is almost packed with things. From the way the photograph feels under my fingertips, the picture already casts in my head. The familiarity is almost comforting. 

I soften my eyes as I look at the picture with me and my dad on the beach. It was one of the best days of my life, the day I could painlessly shun my worries away. I warily hover my fingers over the frail, dust-coated photograph.

The blinding sun makes my skin gleam and accentuates our smile creating a small wrinkle on the nook of our eyes. The gentle breeze had tossed my brown hair across my forehead, which I had taken no notice of. If only happiness remained. My dad was a head taller than me and considerably chubby. My hands were gripped around his waist like he meant the world to me. He did.

It was my birthday that day. My friends who were not very close to me were supposed to come over to my house for a little party. I saw it coming. They didn't turn up and I didn't bother to listen to their futile excuses.

My dad then dragged me, despite my arrogant protests to wallow in my sadness, to the beach and I don't regret it at all.

It was my last birthday with my dad.

I pick another delicate picture. I was seven years old with my flashy pink dress and pigtails. My mother, dad, and I were in the theater. The bitterness wells inside me and tears begin to prick at my eyelids.

That was the last time I saw my mom happy and sober. What truly disturbs me is that I wasn't mature enough to understand her or even remember all of her. 

I shove the box, ignoring the fact that it is half open, under my pillow with haste as I hear the sharp click of the doorknob.

"Hey Keira, you are up earlier than usual", Jason says, a little out of breath. He's back from the gym, I assume.

"Yeah. I should get used to waking up early since school starts next week," I say while veiling my face with a blanket.

Sleeping in is how I spend my mornings. It works fine for me as I don't have to spend on breakfast or bother Jason by contributing to his expenses. Also, I have to make the best of the holidays while it lasts.

Today, it was different. It was a nightmare that shook me awake. I'm not very comfortable with sharing my life with Jason and he doesn't force me.

"I bought you some food. I gotta get to college now and I'll see you at 2 pm. Don't forget to lock the door if you're going out and for heaven's sake do not forget the keys, " Jason lets me know like I can't handle being on my own. I swear he thinks I'm a child sometimes. He slings his bag over his toned shoulder and slams the door on his way out.

Jason is my roommate. How did I end up here in a suffocating, dingy apartment with no life? The story leads right to when I lost my parents, unfortunately.

Jason is the son of my father's friend. He decided to rent a cheap apartment when had to live on his own earnings since his house is miles away from college, which wasn't very convenient.