HOME
[hom] noun
a gathering place for FAMILY to join together in laughter. the one place you will always be surrounded by those who LOVE you. a place or feeling of BELONGING.
the frosts - the story of a family ripped apart. the story of two teenag...
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"It is so much safer not to feel, not to let the world touch me." - Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath
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First came the sirens.
Deafening, continuous wailing, reverberated throughout the neighborhood. It was designed to be heard by all, to be impossible to ignore. It was the same alarm that sounded with warnings of a tornado.
But this was no tornado.
He watched as the sky was lit up with the first bomb. He could feel the vibration against the window, shaking their home.
He would never admit that he was frightened. In fact, just to prove that he was grown and unafraid of war, he sat near the window, watching the world around him go up in flames. It was a terrible sight to see, yet oddly fascinating. There was something disturbingly beautiful about mass destruction. About the way the night sky was polluted with dust and ash from flames.
Or perhaps he had numbed his emotions to a point where war no longer bothered him. He was indifferent to everything, no matter how terrible or upsetting.
He hadn't been the same since his father left. His father was the one person in the whole world with whom he felt truly connected. He had always been the odd one out in his family, the one who didn't quite belong. But his father made him feel like the most important person in the world. After he left, things had never been the same. He had shut down, refused to connect with the rest of his family.
He suddenly found himself wondering where his father was at that moment in time.
"Edmund! Get away from there! Peter!" A pair of hands grabbed ahold of his arms, pulling him away from the window. His mother ran around, frantically searching for blankets, flashlights, and any supplies she could get her hands on.
Peter appeared at their mother's side, looking visibly shaken but clearly trying to hold it together.
"What do you think you're doing?" she scolded, and then to Peter: "Peter, quickly, the shelter! Now!"
He was grabbed by another set of hands roughly pulling him towards the back door. "Come on!"
He scoffed, shaking his brother's hands away. Normally, he would have made a rude comment about not wanting to be touched, but at that moment, his only concern was for his father. "Wait..."
"Come on, leave it!"
His sisters emerged from their room, huddling close. Lucy's face was tear stained and she leaned close to Susan as she clutched her stuffed toy.
Their mother pushed them towards the door and they started to run towards the shelter.
The bombs were getting closer now. He started to feel the fear that he had been trying so hard to push away. It was impossible to ignore the sights of war once they were in your backyard. He was anxious to get to the shelter, away from the impending danger.
But he couldn't leave his father. "Wait. Dad!"
He skidded to a stop, changing directions and running back towards the house. He was vaguely aware of his mother's screams and Peter running after him, but he didn't care. He had only one goal on his mind.
"Get down!"
Just as his fingers wrapped around the metal frame, he was tackled to the ground by Peter. The window exploded, sending shards of glass tumbling to the ground around them.
"Come on, you idiot, run!" Peter shouted, pulling him to his feet, "Get out!"
The bombs were more than terrifying now that they were coming down on his home. He resisted the urge to glance back as he ran towards the shelter, clutching the shattered picture frame in his arms.
His home was being destroyed.
Peter shoved him through the door and he collapsed onto the floor. "Why can't you think of anyone but yourself? You're so selfish! You could have gotten us killed!"
Of course he knew that. Of course he knew the risks of going back. But he wasn't leaving without a piece of his father.
He didn't ask Peter to go back. But - though he would never admit it - he was grateful that his brother was looking out for him.
His mother wrapped her arms around him, holding him close. He resisted the urge to cry as he leaned into his mother's embrace, breathing heavily.
Peter continued to chastise him. "Why can't you just do as you're told?"
It was a long night. He wasn't sure how his siblings were able to sleep, even after the bombings stopped.
He lay awake, wondering what would happen in the morning. He'd heard his mother speaking with the neighbors, discussing plans to send the children away. To send them someplace safer.
But what it really be safer?
What was considered safe?
As he lay awake, he wondered if he would ever see his father again. He wondered what would happen to his mother while they were gone. Would she be alright on her own?
He wondered if they would be okay without her.
As much as he tried to appear uninterested and unaffected, he was scared. He was scared of what awaited them in the months to come. He was more than scared.
Edmund was terrified.
published and edited on 8.19.2020
***
okay so this wasn't THAT essential to the story, but i thought it did a lot for edmund's character
it helped to develop his character a little more and showed that he was more than just a sassy teenager lmao
he was more scared and affected by the war than he was willing to let on and that will definitely come into play later on in the book
