‘Amelia darlingʼ, please open your eyes, mummy is here” Sofia
whispered softly.
‘I canʼt lose you too baby, I wonʼtʼ.
Amelia could hear her mother but for some reason, moving was a
chore, and her eyes, which felt heavy like lead, wouldnʼt open. And
suddenly, she was sucked back into unconsciousness.
In the dark abyss she had pictures which kept her company, pictures
which scared and thrilled her at the same time. Somewhere deep
down, she knew it was a mirage, and just like a pack of cards, itʼll
come tumbling down soon but still, she held on as tightly as her
mental hands could.
It was like trying to hold on to air. The pictures filtered in and out of
focus, they danced around the edges of her memory, teasing her
with a bittersweet feeling and then she struck out and grabbed.
She was ten here.
She could see her birthday cake clearly, see the faces of her best
friends Charlotte and Ava, their parents, and the happy faces of her
parents. It was a small party, but that was how she wanted it and she
was happy.
Charlotte, in her pink frilly dress, matching Avaʼs yellow and Ameliaʼs white one stood up suddenly and held her hands out, searching for
her best friends fingers, three tiny hands enclosing over themselves,
running in harmony past their parents, out of the homey dining area
which Sofia, Ameliaʼs mother always left spotless, into the living
area, smiling and dancing now. Amelia just looked on, happily.
Then blood.
Underneath her eyelids, she blinked. Once, then twice. A tiny trickle
at first, but now unable to miss, it poured out of her eyes, distorting
their brown, in torrents, staining her pretty white dress. She
screamed and little Amelia mirrored it. Her parents rushed out in
alarm and when she turned her head to look at them, she screamed
even harder. They had two black holes for eyes, from which even
more blood poured out from.
In a second or less she felt the room fading and the walls of her
memory fell away, quickly replaced by another.
The weather was gloomy, it had been raining all day. She didnʼt know
how she knew that, but she just did. Amelia, popped into view, in
between her parents, all stylishly dressed in thick coats and
trousers. She instinctively looked down, smiling.
She knew she was fifteen here.
She wore those boots everywhere and not even a gloomy weather
would dissuade her from wearing her knee high leather boots.
She had saved up for it, despite her parents best efforts to just buy
it for her. It was her baby and it made her proud. Her eyes followed
their movements as the three of them climbed into her Dadʼs Jeep.
She frowned slightly as her younger self climbed in the front,
realization dawning on her, quickly followed by horror.
The first day she rode shotgun on an outing with her mother and
father.
The last day she saw that Jeep and her Father.
The last day she felt complete and happy.
The day of the accident.
She felt sorrow and she knew she was crying. She didnʼt know how
she knew, just that she knew.
Meanwhile, someplace else, she was thrashing about as she tried
shattering this memory. She didnʼt want to relive it, she screamed
and clawed but no matter what she did, she knew it was futile, she
couldnʼt stop it. It would stop when it wanted to.
And with that realization, came the accident.
Somehow her eyes found their way into the Jeep.
‘Liaʼ, stop goofing around, her father, Lewis said in mock
seriousness.
‘Youʼre a sore loser dadʼ she replied pouting.
‘Youʼre calling your old man a loser?ʼ
‘Youʼre not old dadʼ
‘Iʼve got gray hairʼ
‘Youʼre blonde,thatʼs not gray, itʼs more like silvery copper, honeyʼ.
Her mum, Sofia interjected.
‘Whose side are you on?ʼ Her father asked, faking hurt.
‘The side of the truthʼ her mum states in a matter of fact tone, causing Amelia to giggle.
‘Okay Okay Tom and Jerry, thatʼs enough, besides dad, youʼre just
tryna get away from your last trial. Itʼs not happeningʼ.
‘Alright fine, weʼre almost there anyways, letʼs finish thisʼ her dad
said and opened his mouth. ‘Throwʼ he commanded.
They were playing with gummy bears. Amelia, was in charge of
throwing, her dad, catching with his mouth and her mom was the
referee.
They stopped at a traffic light which was currently showing red and
her father, seeing no danger, decided to indulge his daughter one
last time.
It would be the last thing heʼd do for her.
She threw and it happened so fast yet so slow, like a bad movie
where you know thereʼs danger but you canʼt do anything and you
canʼt stop looking either.
A truck coming from the other side of the road smashed into the
driverʼs side. Her fatherʼs side. Amelia held a whimper as she was
sucked from that memory once again.
She had blacked out at the moment of the impact, but she didnʼt
have to see what the impact did to her dad.
The doctors tried to stitch him up so heʼd look presentable for the
casket viewing but they could only do so much. He looked nothing
like the man she had grown to call dad. Nothing.
The dirty dining area drew her attention first and she didnʼt have to think too much to know that it was about three years since the
accident.
She was a senior in high school, at eighteen years.
She didnʼt graduate though.
Her mom, who was a shadow of herself at this point, turned her
back from her daughter and became a druggie. It was her way of
coping and while it hurt Amelia that her mum was hurting, Sofia, felt
nothing.
She turned back to survey the bare dining area. There werenʼt any
chairs so she figured it was around the time they were going broke.
Her mother was a housewife who ran her fatherʼs business into the
ground, not for lack of trying to save it.
She just couldnʼt handle everything and when she eventually gave in
to the drugs, there was no going back.
She needed to fund her addiction, and when there was nothing left,
began selling their furniture.
Her eyes searched around the house, finally coming to rest on her
eighteen year old self, peeking inside what used to be a room of
comfort; her parents bedroom. She remembered what she saw, that
she didnʼt need to look again but, sheʼd have to, it was
uncontrollable. A tiny silhouette at the foot of the bed, situated in
the middle. Her mother had lost a lot of weight, she could see her
ribs poking out underneath her grimy bra.
She barely showered, barely left her room, unless it was to pick up
drugs from wherever it was she got them or to get something to eat. She didnʼt eat a lot though, just enough to stave the hunger and
hold the drugs in her system.
Her ethereal eyes scanned the room as best as she could from the
tiny crack her eighteen year old self made at the door, looking at the
packs of takeouts on the floor, some empty, others, half filled with
rotting food, bones and paper bags with empty syringes, all
discarded with the carelessness of sorrow.
She didnʼt have to smell the tangy odor of the room again. It was
ingrained in her memory.
‘momʼ she called tentatively.
When her mother didnʼt stir, she tried again, this time, pushing the
door as open as she could, fighting with the dirt on the floor,
blocking the doors path.
She had tried cleaning this room but her mother went berserk and
nearly attacked her.
She didnʼt try again.
‘mom, itʼs Liaʼ.
Amelia wished at that point, she could block this memory out. She
didnʼt want to watch her mum look at her again with those vacant
eyes, barely registering her presence.
For once though, her mind listened and granted her this reprieve.
She felt the now familiar pull before her mother turned.
