Smoke and shattered mirrors

Chapter sixteen: I rest my case, Rory is a total nut.

If waking up at two a.m in the middle of the night with everyone asleep, the lights out and it's pitch black and there were no signs of human activities outside your door wasn't bad enough, try adding howling dogs outside to that equation and you're bound to suffer restlessness.

I thought about texting Topher, but he's probably still sleeping. Rory still hasn't come home yet and Aunt Caroline is at an overnight wine fair in Santa Fe. Martha and the maid's quarters were two floors down. I was all alone in a big house.

I was scrolling through an old photo album I spied under my computer table. There, it held dozens of pictures of me growing up. I looked at a toddler picture of mine closely. I was wearing a pink parka with a little boy beside me, playing out by a meadow. I recognized the unmistakable brown eyes and laughed as I see it's little Rory.

Then there was a clatter of sounds coming from the first floor.

I looked up. A plate shattered loudly.

I threw off the covers, set aside the photo album, jumped out of bed in my Pjs and hurried downstairs. Having form another hunch in the pit of my stomach.

Two plates (or a glass bowl) shattered again. I winced as I entered the kitchen. Rory was smashing plates and glass cups. There were shards of glass everywhere.

"Rory! Rory stop!" I took the plate that he was about to throw against the wall and he slurred and grabbed another one, I slapped his hands and he recoiled.

"Whydoesthebadpeoplealwayswin?" He said, his words too slurred for me to understand. He stumbles and holds the kithchen counter for support." Whydoyoualwayswin?"

 "What are you talking about, Rory? You're drunk!" The strong putrid smell of alcohol wafted up my nostrils as he spoke.

He staggered while walking. Swaying sideways, and muttering words that I couldn't understand. 

"Rory?" I said, following him outside the kitchen. Carefully dodging the shattered pieces of glass.

The maid's quarters door opened slowly and Gloria's head poked out, her hair in purple curlers. She slowly shook her head in dissaproval with Rory's dismantled state.

Slowly and ungracefully, Rory lowers himself down the first steps of the stairs and pulls out a silver flask from his back pocket, opens it and chugs the contents.

I watched as he tries to get another gulp out of the flask, but I snatch it before he could.

"Gimmethat." He said, trying to grab it but I keep it out of his reach.  And in Rory's condition, keeping his flask out of reach was a piece of cake.

"Even though Aunt caroline isin't here, Rory, it doesn't mean that you can go out and get wasted." I said through gritted teeth. Only because his strong, sick smell of alcohol made my eyes tear up.

"OhMerci!," He smiled devilishly."Stop PRETENDING! Just fucking stop the sweet innocent act of yours." He pushes himself  up and staggers sidewards again as he speaks again, " Just stop torturing me, Merci. With your mind games and your manipulation. Just stop 'cause I'm so fucking tired of you!"

"I'm not torturing you. I'm not manipulating anyone." I said, startled. " I'm not acting. I don't even remember anything much. Do you think you have problems? Huh? Try having people talk to you like they know you better than you know yourself. Do you know what's even more painful? It's that there are these good things around you but you don't know those good things! You don't know how hard it is to adjust when everyone around you has this huge secret and it just pushes you and pushes you and pushes you to your limit- and... God, I can't do this anymore.." I sobbed. I've spent three days wanting to burst out with those words. Wanting to lighten my burden. 

Dr. Muria was right. I have a heavy baggage. And right now, I felt really light. Like I was instantly relieved of those words that was kept and deep-rooted inside me.

Rory just stared at me in awe. He looked a bit confused and green. His brown hair a scruff mess like a chicken nest. He looked acutely unaware of my own breakdown.

"So if you're not pretending about the whole amnesia stuff. Then why do you remember me? You remembered me when mom bought you home." He slurred and stumbled over his own feet as he climbs the stairs.

 I stare at his retreating back. I dumped the silver flask in a trash can and saw Gloria cleaning the shards of glass scattered around the floor.

"I'm sure he's sorry about the mess. Do you want me to help you?" I asked her.

Gloria shook her head." No! no! no! Miss Merci, you need not worry but rest. I'm quite used to his drunk tantrums. Once, he tried smashing your treehouse."

Yikes.

"-And the swing outside. And the maple tree. He even broke the lamps up in the attic. Tsk! He is usually drunk on weeknights." She said as she picked up the glass shards with an old newspaper.

"What does Aunt Caroline say?" I ask, accidentally pricking my thumb on a stray glass shard. I winced but calmly pulled the glass out.

"She understands what he is going through. Though, at times, she can't take Rory's tantrums. So she yells at him till dawn."

I nodded. For a while, Gloria and I talked. It was good talk. And it made me happier with her talking to me about stuff that aren't related to me at all. She talked about Colombia and Mexico. For once, I was talking to someone who doesn't seem to know me better than I know myself.

"Gloria, is the treehouse locked?" I asked. She went to retrieve the key and let me be. 

It was 2 o'clock in the morning and I was sleepless. What else am I supposed to do?

So yes, I went outside in a thin night gown and a flashlight, crazy enough to hope I would find peace in my treehouse. It was beige and even a little fancy to be considered a treehouse. And I still went out even though it was pitch black with the exception of my flashlight (it's pink and bulky) and I started climbing the wooden ladder. There were seven steps. The make-shift door poking through the treehouse floor was padlocked, and I unlock it, noticing the dents and paint scrapes on it. Probably Rory,

I grunt as I open the heavy wooden door. 

I push myself inside the treehouse. It was completely pitch black. 

"Gah!" I gave out a shrilly scream. The first object my flashlight shone onto was a scary, tattered and  dirty porcelain doll. I fell down on a hard circular object. When I looked, it was a deranged clown mask. I threw it somewhere on the far corner and got up suddenly that I knock over a few pocketbooks on a small coffee table. 

Get a hold of yourself, Merci. It's just a treehouse. There's no one here but you.

So I finally fumble around the walls for a light switch. There was one beside the full body mirror. And it finally lit up my surroundings. I got a better look at everything, and it wasn't scary anymore. This place was mine. 

So I lock the treehouse door shut and started looking around.

Remember what my note said? Everything I need to know is INSIDE the treehouse.

And for my sake, I hope I remember what there is to know in here.