Scarlett

Chapter 14: My past

Mark and I returned home in silence. Dad was on the sofa and he stared into thin air in melancholy. He turned his attention towards us with a puzzled expression as soon as we entered the house.

"You are here?" He was up on his feet and made his way towards us. Shock as well as surprise was evident on his face. He embraced me in a comfortable hug and then greeted Mark. I briefly introduced the two after which Dad showed us our rooms. Dad behaved well and respectfully towards Mark and even thanked him for driving me down to Palm Fields. I was grateful for it, after the unexpected and unwanted showdown with Mum. I tried not to think of the sudden revelation about my future, or rather future that would soon cease to exist. Dad guided Mark to the guest room on the first floor while I made my way into the next room. It was my room.

Flash of memories played in my head as soon I stepped into my childhood bedroom. It looked almost as I remembered. The baby pink and greys walls, the old teak bed and wardrobe and the large photograph of Mini and  that hung on the wall above my bed, everything was exactly where they were supposed to be. I missed Mini a lot. My room reminded me of her. She was my kitten, my best friend. The thought of best friend reminded me of Steve. I wanted to meet him  and surprise him by my presence or rather by my existence.

I walked through the room and recalled my time there. Those were beautiful days, I thought. Back then, years ago, I had a beautiful and a complete family, a little kitten and a best friend. It was a good life for a six year old. Then I thought about how unpredictable life was. One time, I had all of that and then in the next moment, everything was taken away from me, including my own childhood. I suddenly began to have a dysfunctional family, with an alcoholic father and an over possessive mother, along with a life that hardly mattered anymore. It was a life in which I had hardly any more time to live. Unpredictable indeed.

I walked into the bathroom and stripped off my clothes. I stood bare in front of the mirror and looked at myself. The events of the morning replayed in my head one after the other. I began to feel anxious. I suddenly felt suffocated in my little bathroom. I knew that the brave face that I had put up in front of others was just a mask beneath which was my real face and identity. It was the identity of a coward. The truth was that I was scared. No, I was terrified. I was terrified to die. I knew that I could not give up on life so easily,  I could not let life win so easily but I was terrified to fight. I wanted to live like any other person. I wanted to grow old and die old.

I splashed water on my face, once, twice, thrice and many more times but they did not prevent the stream of tears that flowed from my eyes. I wanted to scream, and I wanted to hit my hand on the wall, and I wanted to hurt myself and feel more pain. I deserved pain, I thought. But something within me stopped me. Something told me that I did not deserve it. Soon, I composed myself.

I took a long and relaxing bath and changed into a fresh set of clothes. I headed to the guest room to check up on Mark but no one was there. As I walked downstairs and into the kitchen, I found Mark and Dad engrossed in deep conversation. They sat across the dining table. Mark held a mug of coffee while dad gulped down beer from a can. I could not hear what they spoke about but something told me that they were getting along quite well.

"Hey." I greeted them with a smile.

"Hey, Scarlett. We were just talking about you." Dad was a little too enthusiastic when he spoke. Mark smiled without a word and took another sip from his mug.

"About how long I have to live?" I sneered and both of them stared at me in shock. "Geez, don't look at me like that. It was a joke." I explained as I took a seat next to Mark. It was a terrible joke and I knew that.

"It is not funny." Mark mumbled under his breath. His eyes were fixed on the mug but I heard him loud and clear.

"It is. What do you expect? You want me to cry about it all day?" I raised an eyebrow. I knew that I was going a little too overboard with my pretence, as if it did not affect me at all and as if I did not cry my eyes out in the bathroom only minutes ago. I walked up to the refrigerator and picked up a can of Red Bull. I handed it to Dad and requested him to open it for me.