Flames and Feathers Book 1

The soft ripple of the ocean waves splashing up against my toes woke me up. The icy cool waters made my feet tingly and numb. I'd fallen asleep yet again, alone; my old beat up back pack at my side. I'd been on the run, so to speak, for a few months now. No, I wasn't in trouble with the law, and no I hadn’t killed anyone, well if happened,  it was not intentional.   I was trying to escape my life!  The heartache, pain, and the constant reminder of loved ones lost.  It was far too much to bare.       I couldn't breathe, I needed air, I had to run. I needed to run as fast as my feet would take me and I'd never look back.   Both my parents we're long gone and I hadn’t seen my mom, since the night she passed away .  My father has been in jail since I was a little girl and  I can still,  faintly,  remember the features of his kind face. My thoughts seem to always hold tight to the subtle features of his face.         I brushed a tear away, fighting its way down my cheek.  The urge was always there but how much more did I have left to cry?          I can still see the sweet smile on my father, Micha's face,  as he used to hum me a song to sleep. I wished I remember what song that was.  I wasn't even sure of it even had a name, if it ever did.  It was hauntingly beautiful and always seemed to do the trick. I always thought his voice could make the flowers dance and stars,  twinkle like diamonds against a pixey’s wings.     He smelled like bergamot and evergreen trees, which had just been touched by a morning rainstorm.    The smell, always reminded me of being outdoors and being out in nature.  I don’t know what it was but being outside it made me feel alive and free, just as the ocean’s waters made me feel calm and safe.               As I ran the back of my hand along the edge of my face,  I could almost feel his scruffy chin hair tickle my cheek when he kissed me goodnight.    I could never fully understand, how such a good person could end up in such a bad place.                     What could he have ever done, that would land him in prison?        What could he have ever done, to deserve to have the rest of his life taken from us?  Why was he wasting away behind bars? Why did he leave us? We needed him……………. I needed him.      I could feel tears welling up in my eyes again but I didn’t let them fall. I used the back of the sleeve of my flannel shirt, brushing them aside.  I’ve cried too many tears, too many waisted tears,  I wasn’t about to do it now.             The night he was taken, still gives me goosebumps, I remember being so scared.  It was a normal eventful night at first. Mama had just made dinner, roasted chicken with potatoes and carrots. We had all just sat down to eat and dad had just poured mom a glass of red wine.  Daddy was in mid prayer, when the front door was kicked in. They didn’t even bother knocking, they went straight to smashing, which was a loud frightening event for a small child.                                                Daddy practically flew out of his chair, as he stood with his hands high above his head.   Guns were pointed in my fathers direction.   Mom was crying hysterically as she hit the floor, clasping me tightly against her body protectively. Then in a few seconds, everything that was once a quiet peaceful dinner, turned into a nightmare.         The flashing red and blue lights came soon after, why the police thought they needed back-up for someone being compliant, was beyond me.     I was hiding under the kitchen table when they took him , tears rolled down my face soaking my blue sundress.  Two police officers dragged him out in hand cuffs, he locked eyes on me as the men in blue suits dragged him away.   He whispered, “I love you baby” before the door slammed behind him, then he was gone.  Mama was on the floor on her knees, her hands cradling her face.  She was sobbing; the apron of her dress was stained with her tears.  Her whole body was shaking as she rocked back and forth on the floor.  She looked as though she was in shock and her golden brown hair looked like a lion’s mane of tangles falling across her face. Her cries seemed to shake the house, as she fought a battle of her own, inside herself.   When seemed like several minutes after the the front door slammed, the scream that came out of my mother,  was something I would never forget. It was as if her very soul came out with it. It was nothing I’d ever heard before nor would I ever want to hear again.             My mom changed that day, she no longer had the light in her eyes , she no longer wore a smile, and her heart seemed to be ripped out from her very chest.  No one was ever going to be able to put the pieces back together.  Our home became like that of those fairy tales where my dreams were shattered into a dozen pieces.   Our home may have not been made of egg shells but now I had to walk on them and they were as sharp as broken crystal shards.   Life was tough without daddy around,  mom could hardly function, I know she loved me as  her child, but her heart just wasn’t in it.       Being so young at that time, I could never fully understand why she acted the way she did.      I don’t know if I will ever fully understand. I was a little girl, no little girl should have to live like that.           Late one night as I lay in my bed, I simply stared at the ceiling.  My pink princess nightlight made little stars glow faintly against the creamy vanilla colored paint on my walls. I imagined the stars to be fireflies dancing beneath shining beams of light from the glow of the moon.  My arms were raised  high above my hands stretching so high I felt as though I could almost reach one. My tiny fingers moved against the sparkling glow, just hoping to grasp one twinkly ball of light.        I had to keep myself entertained most nights, mama was never herself and well I was afraid of who or what would appear in my dreams.  Recurring nightmares came to remind me of what happen the night daddy left, if I even had a chance to forget, my brain refused to allow it.     It had only been six months but his absence had interrupted the whole household.  A noise outside my bedroom startled me to a standstill.  It sounded like my mother was crying so I immediately decided to investigate the disturbance.         I remember sneaking to my mother’s room that night, the door was shut. I could see the soft light from underneath flooding the hallway.   Mama had to have been leaning on or sitting up against her door, but I wasn’t about to try to nudge it. I just wanted to listen, to be near her. I could almost feel her warm sobs coming from the other side against my cheek.             “Why did you have to leave me? This is too hard!  I can’t do this without you! I don’t understand ! Why would God let this happen? ”  Mom was on the telephone, although, I wasn't sure who she was talking to just yet.  I wondered if it was daddy but it could have been anyone.  The tears starts to fall at that point, I couldn’t not control them. I missed him, I missed mom, hell I just needed to be held and told everything was going to be okay.  I sat on my knees beside mama’s door my yellow night gown tucked under my bare skin. I pushed my hair out of my face and inched my body closer to the oak door. It felt like we were inches apart, it was as close as I’d been to mama in a few weeks.  She acted as though she wanted nothing more then to pretend as though I was invisible, just a subtle annoyance.  Holding my hands against my head I began to cry,  uncontrollably.     “Emma? She is fine! She is strong, she can make it through.  I don’t think I can! “   I heard a brief pause and then mama started to whimper.  “Okay, I will.. I will! I love you!”    More tears started to fall, I wanted to tell mom it would be okay, that I was okay but it wouldn’t have help or changed anything.   Instead,  I decided it would be better if I just tip toed back to bed before my mother stumbled out the door and found me eavesdropping.    Being careful not to let the dark wood floors creak, I walked slowly, staying in the shadows of the hallway, I  let my fingertips brush against textured walls. I had almost made it to a hall bathroom when I heard mom's door fly open and foot steps coming toward me.   “What are you doing out of bed? It’s nearly two thirty in the morning! “   Moms face was flushed and red, her eyes swollen from crying. Her golden brown hair fell in waves down her shoulders and lower back un-brushed.  She was still in the same clothes she wore three days ago, black sweat pants and a dark blue flannel t-shirt.      “Mama, I was scared and I couldn’t sleep. I wish you weren’t so sad all the time.”  I missed him too!   I let my legs slide out from underneath me and then hit the floor.  She was there beside me then. I felt her arms wrap around me and I buried my face against the fabric of her chest. I missed her so much, the smell of her hair, the peach soap she used, and the way she kissed me on my forehead.    No words were said as she carried me back to bed, at that moment I knew my mother still loved me, even if she rarely showed it.           The first few months were not easy, really hard actually but we found ways to survive. As time progressed Mom seemed to let go and forget, slowly.  It seemed at one point that even though things would never be as they were before but they were beginning to settle back into some what normal.  My mother actually seemed be coming out of her horrible depression.   She was talking more and beginning to take more of an interest in bathing.  Seeing mom in the same sweatpants and pajama top,  was starting to get old. I had to learn how to wash my own laundry, otherwise I would spend my days in filthy clothing.  Mom didn't seem to care if she smelled like a stinky hobbit.   She acted more like a robot then the Lilly she had grown up to be but at least she was talking to me again.  She even started cooking me something other then mac and cheese, or burnt grilled sandwiches but that didn't last very long.     One Sunday evening a phone call interrupted all her progress, unfortunately,  that is when I lost my mother all over again.  It was a collect call from the county prison, dad had somehow, finally been given permission to contact us. It was like all my prayers had been answered, I finally got to see my daddy again!      Within the month, we began to have short visits, they were few and far between but it was a start.         We would have a few moments to talk through a huge triple pained glass window.                      For a few moments,  I got to see my Daddies warm smile against his reflection on the glass.  Holding the big black telephone between my tiny hands I would get to hear his deep whimsical voice in my ear.     He would tell me how much he loved me and how much he missed his little girl. He also told me that I needed to keep my chin up and help take care of mama.    I’d pretend or imagine just for a moment that I could feel his presence all around me. The moment  he pressed one a tender kiss to the top of my head, I knew it couldn't just be my imagination because it felt so real.        His warm loving arms wrapped around me so protectively, daddy always made me feel so save and for just one moment, I felt like everything was going to be okay.  I was going to be okay,  the feeling only lasted seconds before he was once again,  ripped away from me.   The moment mom harshly yanked the telephone from my small hands, in an instant, I lost my dad all over again.    She was very unsympathetic as pushed me out of the way and I stumbled and fell to the dirt stained linoleum floor.   When our connection was lost, so was his presence all around me and the tears started to sneak their way down the flushed pink of my cheeks.      The frigid glare daddy gave mama showed me just how upset it made him. He was definitely raising his voice as she held the black telephone greedily in her hands.  Mama's smug smile turned rather quickly into a deranged grimace.             She did not look pleased as she nodded amicably that she understood every single word he told her. They pressed their hands  into the glass as if trying to touch each other for one last time but my father abruptly took his away as mom’s fingertips slowly slid down the glass. She silently refused to let her grip loosen,  as she held on with every ounce of strength she had left of her pride.  Her feet slid  slowly under her, her grip no longer tight. She ended up giving up as her knees buckled and she kneeled on the ground,  her eyes never leaving his.    Daddy didn't acknowledge her, not anymore,  for his eyes were frozen on mine.      Mom was still on her knees, her head resting against the glass, her dark blue eyes still staring into to his. She was literally  pleading with him to look at her one last time but he was disgusted with her actions.   I felt really bad for mama, I could not understand why daddy was being so cruel.  Yes, my mom pushed me aside but only because she was so excited to talk to father face to face again, she wasn’t trying to hurt me.   My mother would never try to hurt me,  she has been a little off lately,, but she still loved me, didn't she?     Time grew short as men with guns and blue uniforms would take him away usually without forewarning and at all opportune times.   Time was very short, such as was my mother’s joy, which never lasted.  The visits seem to prolong my her sadness and intensify the effects of whatever she had going on inside of her head.    I loved my father dearly but I almost wished he had never contacted us, if it were going to be this hard of mother.    She was almost back to being somewhat normal before we started are visits. He was like her private drug of choice, the more she drank him in, the more she grew more depressed and obsessed.      Her robotic nature had turned into to someone I didn't know , someone  barley breathing, barley human.       My mother did the best she could, she sadness just took over and she let it win. Never did she once try and stand up to it, gave in and the more depressed she became.       She looked and sounded like my mother but it aged her ten years.  The light inside her that used to burn so bright had gone out, only a flicker of her soul remained intack.   Her eyes were dark and dull,  there was no color left but a muddy blue. Visits with dad became shorter and longer, , weeks apart.  Each visit making my mother more and more depressed, until one day we never went back.       Letters would come and go but mom would read them, tear them, burn them, and disregard them. She never let me read them .   Whenever I took any interest  in my fathers letters, she would crumble the paper in front of my face as if trying to punish me, or light on fire right in front of me, in hopes of getting my attention somehow.     I don’t know why she hated me,  I don’t know what I did to make her hate me.             The days became weeks and the months turned into years, my mother’s mental health declined steadily.   I was about ten years old, when my so called,  “guardian angel” Aunt Morgan came into my life.    I didn’t understand it then but I do now, I needed her, maybe we both needed each other equally.  She was my saving grace and I would always be thankful for everything she did for me.  She gave up so much to take on a little girl who had become completely broken but she knew how to pick up all the pieces and put  me back together again. For that, I will always be thankful.   The weeks leading up to my mom’s last days on earth, would be some of the hardest days of my life. I am grateful my aunt was there with me when all hell broke loose. I don't know what I would have done without her.       The moment Aunt Morgan came into my life, my life began to change for the better.  I was able to go back to school and be a kid again. I didn't have to take care of mom anymore, and I didn't have to worry about when or what would be my next meal, she let me be a kid again. My mother, had taken that part of me away years ago, I'd almost forgotten what it was like.              “Lilly you need to move on, he is never coming back, your daughter needs you.” Morgan tried her best to console her, moving hair out of her face and softly wiping the tears from her cheeks.     “Your daughter is all you got left in this life, she needs her mom.”  Morgan sat on her knees in front of Lilly’s feet, her expression was sad and unchanging. My mom looked as though her whole life had passed before her very eyes,  she was barely in her mid-thirties, but she looked like she was in her mid- forties.      “I can't! I won’t!  “Lilly grabbed Morgan’s wrist and tossed them aside.    Sternly but with a gentle nudge, she grabbed my mom’s hands and shook them in front of her face. Sobbing as looked into her lifeless eyes    “Lilly if you choose to hear me now is the time.  If the sister I know and love in there, please listen to me.” She let go of her harsh grip and let her hands flop down in her lap.   She didn’t say a word, she just kept looking passed her sister and out the bedroom window. Her eyes were glazed over as if in a trance, she would not budge.    “Lilly! I've had it ! I'm done with you!  I cannot help you anymore, it’s breaking my heart. We can't keep doing this!”  She raised her hand in the air near her sisters cheek, her voice was beginning to sound horse and she looked like she was going to smack her across the face but stopped short mid-air.                      “Do you realize what this has done to your daughter?   She is dying inside each day, fully knowing her mother is refusing to get better, refusing to live. ”  Morgan brushed a strand of golden blond hair from her face as she once again pleaded with her sister.  Her bright green eyes glistened with tears.    “I’m taking Emma with me to live in Washington. She will have a better life and a future. I've been seeing someone for a while. Ben is his name, he is an amazing man. He asked me to marry him and actually I'm a few months pregnant now. “   She smiled holding her belly with both hands as if cradling her little miracle in her arms.           A low sigh came out from between Lilly's lips as but soft as a whisper.  She wanted to say something but no real words came out, something in her brain wasn't registering. She was all alone, lost inside her own silent hell.  The gates were so tall and jagged no one was able to climb them or break them.    Inside she was screaming to be released from the shackles that chained her but they only held her tighter.  The demons that held her there refused to budge and she had no fight left in her.       Aunt Morgan decided the only safest place for her sister would be in arms reach of doctors and nurses that knew how to treat someone in her condition.  That way she could be under the watchful eye of her physician.   .  Morgan became her power of Attorney and we ended up selling the little three bedroom house that I once called my home, it was really the only place I would ever call home.    It held so many good and bad memories but it was also somewhere I could no longer feel comfort.  Someone else could take on all its memories and I could make new ones. My life was just beginning and it was going to be better from here on out, at least that is what I was hoping would happen.