The Moons Shadow

The Moons Shadow

I stood there, looking out the glass window, out at the moon, it was shining bright. The

stars, sparkling in the night sky, the time was probably around eleven o'clock at night. The whole

house was silent, my mother, asleep in her room, my brother, he crawled into my bed and fell

asleep. Then there's me, in my semi-dark room. The only light was the moon, the big,

bright moon, it illuminated the spot where I had stood. I stared at it, my mother always told me

staring was rude, but the moon was so beautiful, I couldn't help but to stare at the moon. I

remember as a kid, I always imagined what lived on the moon, maybe some odd alien creatures.

I used to draw pictures of what I imagined they would look like all the time. Papers

scattered all over my room of odd looking figures which lost their creativity as it went on. Soon

they were just looking like blobs, green blobs. As I turned ten, I figured that was ridiculous,

aliens, "Aliens aren't real." They told me, after research, I started to believe them, so I started

drawing the night sky. The casual drawings with huge stars and small stars, and in between them

all was a big moon, not clustered with fictional green blobs.

The moon I drew at the age of ten reminded me of that moon I seen above me, outside

that window, I felt my dad's hand lay on my shoulder and whisper to me, "It's okay, I'm here..”

He always did that when I was confused or deep in thought. I looked behind me, looking for his

reassuring smile, but all I seen was my room, my little brother sleeping in my bed but he wasn't

there. I sighed and looked back outside, the sky still dark, the stars still glimmering, I couldn't tell

if it was tears in my eyes or if I was just tired. I fiddled with my hands, my anxiety rising

suddenly, I felt enclosed, tears streaming down my face. Just a month from today his truck tipped

over a bridge, and he drowned before anyone got to him. I remembered how he loved my

artwork, the aliens I drew, the space drawings, everything, he hung them up on his side of the

room, they're gone now.

My mother was never the reassuring type, nor the cheery type, she used to drink when I

was a kid, my dad used to take me out to places after school. We always went places, we were

never stuck in the house, after a while my mom stopped drinking after I turned nine, she realized

how bad her drinking habit got. Soon me and my dad stopped going out as much yet it didn't

seem so bad, my mom was in a stable condition and she was loving. My dad told me how loving

she was before she started drinking. She was very close to the description my father gave me, she

was just a little older, by ten years. But, soon after my dad passed, she has started drinking again,

I started becoming depressed since I couldn't handle my dad's passing myself.

My little brother, Lucas, has started acting out, talking to himself, breaking things and

blaming it on my dad. My mother has become abusive, my little brother has bruises on his arms,

legs and waist. I try to call the authorities and they told me the only other choice is a foster home,

I would rather not lose my brother, sending him to a foster home, but at the same time, what other

choice do I got? Let him keep getting hit on by my mom? I don't think so, I can't stand sending

him to school with those bruises, him telling the teachers it's, "From playing with my dog." They

are gonna have someone come to the house tomorrow and check out the house.

They are probably not gonna like what they see, beer cans, clothes scattered all over the

house, strong stench of beer in every single room, and dishes that are way overdue to cleaning. I

know what’s gonna happen tomorrow, she’s gonna yell at me and my brother to clean the whole

house while she’s drunk off her ass. I sighed at the thought, and stared at the sky, the beautiful

night sky. The only beauty in my life, my mother used to be so beautiful after she stopped

drinking, but then after dad died, she let herself go, she wasn’t fat, just not skinny. She never does

her hair unless she’s been sober for at least two minutes, which is very rare. We are always

embarrassed to be seen in public with her, so whenever we need groceries I am always the one

buying them. I’m the only one that actually has a job, it’s part time but it pays the bills and it gets

us food.

My dad had an amazing job, he was the boss at the factory downtown, how he never got

mad is beyond me. He used to tell me stories about people that slacked on their work, taking

many days off when they weren’t needed or they were “Sick”. “Hearing that story makes me

sick.” I responded to his story, he just chuckled and ruffled up my blonde hair which was neatly

done, and he told me some people are like that and you just have to put your foot down

sometimes. I knew by that he meant firing the person or people that had too many strikes. I used

to love hearing his stories, and one time he took me to his work, he said I couldn’t go into the

factory portion due from too many big machines. I once tried sneaking in but he caught me before

I even go to the front step, telling me it was too dangerous.

See I have so many stories about my father, he was a good man, a good soul, loved by

everyone. There was no one around our state that didn’t know my father. Now everyone knew my

mom, just not like the way they know my dad. That was the problem then, after her drinking

problem, she redeemed herself.. But after my dad's death, she might as well not have tried.

Everyone gave sympathy, cards, balloons, sad that she was now “Alone”. She basically kinda

liked the attention, she might as well have killed him herself to get all this attention. She was

always telling the same sob story to everyone to get passed whatever, discounts, tickets,

speeding… the whole nine yards.

It was embarrassing to say the least, being stared at by people as she sobbed for about ten

minutes. Yeah I felt bad, but hearing the same story to get out of situations is stupid, I mean, who

does that? After my father died, I stayed in school, but my mother quit her job, saying how it was

worse on her then it was me, that night we got in an argument, more of a fight after she was

drinking. “You weren’t the only one that loved him!” I yelled at her. She scowled at me

drunkenly and replied coldly, “He never cared about you, he didn’t care about your brother.” I

stopped, tears streaming down my face still, everything was a blur, but I could make out that

glare.

She continues, “He was killed himself on purpose, he hated both of you, you both are a

bunch of brats!” She slurred. I clenched my fists as I was about to knock her off of her feet, my

little brother walked in and hugged my leg, sobbing. I looked at her, angry, she had that shit

eating grin on her face, I picked up my little brother and walked out of the room, crying with him as I sat on my bed with him. We sat there for probably an hour it seemed, until he fell asleep.

Now I stand here.. Tearing up a little myself, looking out this window, I heard my brother stirring

in my bed, I looked over to make sure he was okay, he was asleep. I smiled softly and wiped my

tears, I wondered what my dad would think of us now, probably ashamed of my mother. I thought

about it, I sobbed quietly, just one last time, I want to see him just one more time.

His hand fell over my shoulder again, that reassuring feeling flushed over me. I smiled

sadly, I knew he was there. Maybe not in the way I wanted him to be, the way that he could tell

my mom how much he wanted her to know that even after everything she said, he loved her and

understood it was out of anger and stress. Then mom would cry in his arms, telling him she’s

sorry, then my little brother would tell him how much he missed him and I would just hug him

while they both sobbed. I’ve never been the emotional type, really, I never cried over deaths or

getting hurt, I may have wanted to but I never really have. I was told as a child that crying wasn’t

going to fix the problem or even bring the person back. It kind of flipped a switch and I never

cried again, no matter what.

As I stood there, looking at the moon, it felt endless, everything felt endless, time, the

moon, stars, everything. I felt that if I walked out that door and walked into the front room, he

would be sitting in that chair, reading his books or watching the news. The news wouldn’t be

about the man who tipped over the bridge and drowned, it wouldn’t have images of him,

explaining what happened. My mother wouldn’t be in there, crying and drinking away her

sorrows, and my little brother wouldn’t be acting as though he was older than his age. Me? Well,

let’s just say I wouldn’t be as depressed. I felt as though that my brother would wake up and find

his dad sitting in that chair sipping his 6 o’clock coffee.

I just wished…. No.. wanted him to come back, I know that wishing never got me

anywhere. As a kid, I used to wish upon shooting stars and I always thought it would come true

but it never did, no matter what. At one point we became poor and I wished that things would get

better, my mom stopped drinking, but it didn’t get better. I sighed, thinking about my past was

worse than going through it, I always try to forget my past but something always comes up and I

remember some things. I never wanted any of my past to happen, I never wanted to be born to a

drunk, I never wanted my dad to die. But all of this happened, and as I’ve been told in the past,

“Everything happens for a reason Naomi.” My brother, Lucas, always believed he would be

something more, he wanted to be a scientist.

My dad always bought him scientific kits that probably ranged from 100-200 dollars a

kit. They seemed pretty cool, I used to watch him as he worked on the kits, some glew a pretty

color while some were just bland scientific kits. Even though I had not always been the sciency

type, I enjoyed watching him just test out the kits, the most common one was the volcano one.

The only thing that wasn’t so common about it was that the “Lava” changed color. I watched in

amazement as the volcano erupted. My mother wasn’t too happy though, the mess was huge and

it stained the wooden table so we had to buy a new kitchen table. I keep rambling, my mother

always told me that was my problem, I talked too much.

I looked away from the window, and yawned, it was now eleven fourty, my eyes hurt

from staring at the moon, I swear I blacked out for a second. My legs were achy and my whole

body felt weird, I was exhausted. I layed down on my mini couch since my brother was sprawled

out on my bed and no sooner I closed my eyes, I was asleep. The next day I woke up, it was

Friday, I pulled my covers back over my head, groaning, not wanting to get up. Then I heard

footsteps towards the door then a stumble, quiet, then the footsteps got in front of the door and the

door opened. She walked towards my couch and yanked the blankets off of me and she stumbled

backwards, she was drunk, again. My little brother woke up and stayed laying on the bed, he

could smell the stench of beer, I could too, it was strong, really strong. She said something but it

was slurred, I could imagine it was along the lines of, “Get up and get ready for school you

miserable brats.”

I got up and she put my blanket down and drunkenly walked out of my room, “it’s too

early for this” I thought, my brother was sitting up, looking at me. Today was the day, my brother

had his things packed already, well, some things. I think he was more happy then he was scared,

we were gonna get out of this hell hole of a home. He nodded at me as he got up and got dressed,

he kind of moved into my room last week, the week we knew that this was gonna happen. I heard

a drunken holler coming from the kitchen, she obviously remembered what today was, obviously.

She stormed back into our room and told us to get cleaning, she stood in the doorway until we

started and went back out into the front room where I heard a thump, the thump of someone

flopping onto a couch.

I got our room cleaned up, got dressed as I grabbed a snack, or breakfast for the both of

us out of the kitchen while Lucas stayed in my room brushing his hair the way he usually does

using my mirror I have in my room. I walked back in with two glasses of milk along with two

granola bars, I promised him that I would buy us something else on the way to school. He nodded

and took his granola bar and dunked it in his milk like he usually does and took a bite and

continued that until it was gone. After it was gone he drank the milk, I did the same then brushed

my hair the way I usually do. After we got ready it was about time to leave, as we walked out of

the room, she was asleep on the couch, as usual. As we got in my car, my brother smiled, for the

first time in forever he was smiling. Seeing my brother so happy, I smiled too, as I dropped him

off to school he waved and ran into the school.

I knew that he wasn’t running into the school because he was tired of everything going

on, he ran into that school to brag that he wasn’t gonna be in that house anymore. I was so happy,

knowing this was all going to be over. My mom had a chance to change but she didn’t, now she’s

gonna pay for everything she did to us. The school day went pretty quick, I said goodbye to all

my teachers and friends and exited the school. But as I was about to exit the school, someone

grabbed my shoulder, I turned around. It was Connor, “Of course” I thought. He gave a sad smile,

“Hey Naomi, I just wanted to say that we are all going to miss you.”

I was focused on his facial expressions, dad always said that you can tell if a person is lying or not by facial expressions or if their eyes are wandering. I checked his eyes, he wasn’t

lying, he cleared his throat as I did so, I looked away. He sighed, “Especially me.. You’ve been a

really good friend this school year.” I smiled softly at him and replied, “Well, I’m gonna miss you

too, you were a really good friend too.” That caught his attention, I always blew him off when he

gave me compliments. He was speechless, I hugged him and walked out of the school, which I

knew I would never return. I wish I could have seen his face after I hugged him, I bet his reaction

was priceless.

After I got to my little brothers school, he ran out with a big grin on his face, just like this

morning. I smiled back at him, after he got in the car I had asked how his day went, “It went

really well sissy, the lady that’s coming to check out the house spoke with me during lunch.” I

nodded, “So what’d she say?” He sat there and had this focused look on his face, “She said she

would be over in an hour.” He replied. I drove to the house, smiling, knowing that it would be

over in an hour. After we got back into the house, she was up, cleaning… She was actually

cleaning. She was clean, her hair was done and her clothes looked nice.

She looked at us and smiled, “Hey kids, how was school?” I felt so creeped out, she was

sober and she’s being nice, it was so odd, the smile faded. My little brother obviously felt the

same way, he walked into my room without saying a word. I followed him into the room, she

followed, I could tell that she wasn’t gonna have us ignore her. She asked us again, “How was

school?” Her voice got kind of tense, “It was good mom.” I replied.

She smiled and walked back into the kitchen cleaning the dishes. I looked over at my

brother, he looked terrified, she was either drinking herself sober or she is sober. We had to wait

an hour, so we just stayed in my room for the time being. After an hour, we had the rest of our

stuff packed, such as blankets, clothes and my little brother had packed a few of his toys. There

were at the most four bags split between us both. I was nervous, what was to happen if we didn’t

go to the orphanage? Would mom get even more enraged? Beat us to death from being drunk?

I just thought more about the negatives about things then I did the positives, not that I did

it on purpose, but it just always slipped my mind, what if? I was always told I was a pessimist by

my peers. I never really paid any mind, I understood the meaning, I just couldn’t help it. I see the

glass as half empty any more, my dad always seen it as half full no matter what. I always thought

of his death as this, if he seen it as half full, I seen his life as a glass not even half full, and when

he fell off that bridge, his glass cracked until that water in his life emptied, he didn’t live his

whole life. His life was taken from him, it was a crack, a crack that didn’t just affect his cup, but

everyone else’s as well. Mine was on the side, the side that’s half empty, my little brothers, on the

top, he won’t understand as much until he gets older.

My mothers, well, let’s just say her cup has overflowed a few times, the crack doesn’t

even affect it. My cup, my life, what ever you want to call it, was affected greatly, I never looked

at things the same. My fear of bridges became greater, but at one point after my father’s death, I

stood on that bridge, I stared down at the water, I imagined him in his truck, his old, grey truck. I imagined how horrible it must have been, water filling your lungs slowly while you fight to get

out of the seat belt. I felt that it kind of represented how I felt after he died, I couldn’t do anything

while I felt that stress and abuse suffocating me, drowning me. That seatbelt was like something I

believed would keep me safe, my dad, holding onto me, while my mom was abusing me, he told

me it would get better. Maybe not as he was alive, but I felt him telling me it would get better. I

had a friend with me when I went on that bridge, I’m glad I did, I felt that it was my fault.

“Dad, can I go with you?” I had asked him just a week ago before his trip. He looked at

me and gave me a soft smile, “I would if I could kiddo, but this is important.” My brother walked

in, a bag full of clothes, “I’m ready to go.” Dad looked at him and picked him up, “Sorry bud, but

you can’t go either, it’s for big boys,” He looked at me, “And girls.” I crossed my arms, “But I am

a big girl.” He responded, “Not big enough to go with me.”

He looked at the clock and then hugged us and grabbed his bags then he left. I sat there,

wishing I could have went with him, along with my brother right next to me, Ryan texted me,

“So, did you persuade him to let you go with him?” I shook my head and replied, “Nope, he said

that only ‘Big girls and Big boys can go..” Sent. I went into mine and Lucas’s room and flopped

down on my bed. My mom walked in, “Naomi, are you okay?” I kept my face in my pillow, “No,

dad didn’t let me go with him..”

She sat on the edge of my bed, “Hey, he didn’t let me go either.” I looked at her, “Well

you’re supposed to take care of us, you’re the mom.” She shrugged, “True, but I could have just

called a babysitter for the both of you.” I crossed my arms, “You wouldn’t do that mom, you love

us too much to do that.” She nodded, “True, but your father loves you guys very much but he has

to go on trips for his work.” I nodded. That week was slow, mom kept the news on, there were

storms here and there but it was away from him.

On that fateful day of my father's passing, my mother was out of the house all

day, this was the day of his return, nothing all morning. Nothing that noon, but when he didn’t get

back home by six like he said he was, I called him, he didn’t answer, I kept calling him, no

answer, usually he answers my calls After a bit I had turned on the news, “This just in, on the bay

bridge, a truck has tipped over, a man in the truck, name unknown had drowned just before

anyone was called.” We were shocked, my brother and I stood at the tv, shocked. We couldn’t

react, we didn’t understand how it happened. I ran out of the house to the bridge, there was

ambulances and cop cars surrounding the bridge, there he was, laying on a rolling fold out bed,

lifeless, I fell to my knees and sobbed. A cop seen me and walked over to me but said nothing and

did nothing, I just sat there and sobbed, the truck was dented, I looked at it, up and down after I

had stopped crying and I got the guts to actually get close to the scene. I looked inside, his clothes

were scattered in the truck, soaking wet, dollars here and there and there it was, a black bag, I

grabbed it and opened it, a present.

I grabbed the bag and stepped out of the truck, tears in my eyes, it was a wooden carved

woodpecker. He always got me souvenirs from his trips if I didn’t go get one myself. That’s one I

didn’t have, I walked home, tears streaming down my face but I wasn't exactly crying, Ryan texted me after I had gotten home, saying how he was sorry, I shook my head and put my phone

away.

I tried jumping off that bridge, tears in my eyes, I was crying, everything was a blur. He

held onto me, he wrapped his arms around me, holding my arms down, keeping me a distance

away from the edge. I struggled, damn did I struggle, “Calm down Naomi, please calm down.”

He said. I yelled and kicked and struggled, “No, it’s my fault he’s dead, it’s because of me that

he’s dead.” He told me that it wasn’t my fault, that it was an accident, I found myself freed of his

grip and I ran, I ran not towards the edge of the bridge, but away, ashamed in myself. Ashamed

that I felt that way even though I felt this was true. I heard footsteps behind me, but I didn’t stop

walking, until I felt his hand touch mine, I jerked my hand away, not wanting him to see the

shame in my face.

I felt as though that he was trying to help but it wasn’t helping, I felt shame, shame was

all I felt. I finally stopped walking, my legs were sore and I didn’t feel as though I could walk

anymore, it was dark out and I felt alone. I sat down, come to find out, he followed me, he sat

right next to me and gave me a reassuring smile. He lent out his arms and I broke down in them, I

can’t remember how long we sat there, it wasn’t like a romantic thing, we were just friends. All I

know is that it felt good knowing I had a shoulder to lean on. He let me stay there, I can’t

remember if I had fallen asleep but the next thing I knew, I was at his house, laying on his couch

next to a chair in which he was sitting in, watching me. I jumped up, shocked, one minute we

were in the woods and the next I was laying on his couch.

“Mornin’ sleepy head.” He smiled, I was looking around confused, it was now morning,

yup I had fallen asleep. “Morning?” I replied. It was Saturday, I sighed and ran my fingers

through my hair. I was a mess, I knew it, “I’m sorry about last night Ryan, I acted pretty

immature…” I looked down, embarrassed. He smiled, all he did was smile as he walked over and

sat next to me, “No, I understand perfectly, your dad just died, you’re acting out, it’s natural.”

I sighed, knowing he went through the same with his mom. She didn’t die the same way

but he died when he was only ten. All I could do was nod as he wrapped his arm around me, my

head started to hurt, my legs still ached. I sat there with him, just like that night, I felt safe like

nothing could hurt me, but I still felt shame. After I finally got the guts to get off that couch, I

stepped out that front door, the morning mist already set, it was cold. I didn’t have my jacket, he

let my borrow his. I knew as soon as I stepped into that door that entered my home, she would be

pissed, so he walked with me.

We got to the door and I walked in, “Naomi where the hell have you been?!” She

hollered. I knew it, “I was with Ryan mom, I am sorry I didn’t come home last night, I dozed off

at his house last night.” I lied. “What were you doing at his house?!” She is drunk, of course, my

little brother walked out of my room, drowsy looking. “I just went to…” Ryan interrupted,

“Ma’am she was having problems with homework, she came over for some help on it, it was late

so she crashed at my house.” I nodded, she scowled at him as he spoke, as if she knew he was lying.

“Bull..” She replied, “That’s absolutely bull.. She never wants help on anything why

would she want help from a boy like you?” I looked at Ryan to see his reaction, he was kind of

tense, “Well with all do respect ma’am, she’s known me for quite a while and…” She had the

grin, that grin she had on the night of his death when she told me that he did it on purpose, “You

think she actually likes you? She’s using you if you are helping you with homework.” He

chuckled and shook his head in disbelief and walked out. I followed him and my little brother

followed as well, we all chilled out at his house for a bit, let my mom sooth out for a bit, as Ryan

said.

I laid on that couch as he had his arms around me, my little brother, asleep in the arm

chair, covered in like five blankets. I looked at him and smiled softly, knowing he would be okay

for a while, sleeping not getting rudely woken up. I fell asleep in his arms, knowing everything

would be okay for an half hour or so. The problem was, my mom had called the cops while she

was drunk and she was slurring so they didn’t listen to her, otherwise the cops would have been at

Ryan's door. Instead we were woken up by Ryan's dad walking in on us, he tried his best not to

wake us, but he did. I thought it was my mom, I woke up and stiffened up in Ryan’s arms, he

chuckled and ran his fingers through my hair, “It’s just my dad Naomi, chill.” He whispered as he

did so.

I did, I loosened up and looked over at my brother, he was awake, but he had my phone.

It wasn’t like I had anything important on there, I had a few games he would get on when he was

bored or when we had nothing else to do. I sighed, “I wish he felt this safe all the time.” I

whispered to Ryan. He nodded in agreement still running his fingers through my hair, I didn’t

want to go back, but it was noon and we had been gone for three hours. I felt that if we stayed any

longer, she would probably call the cops again and we would get in trouble, how did I know she

called the cops? Well it was an instinct, I’m just kidding, but Ryan’s dad told me that the police

were outside and told them she was drunk and that we were safe inside the house. While I wanted

to stay, I got up and stretched, my brother looked at me and frowned, knowing that we had to go.

Ryan stood, “Want me to walk you home Naomi?” I shook my head and grabbed Lucas’

hand and walked us home. As soon as I hit that door she was asleep, “Thank god,” I thought, but

then I thought, “What are we gonna eat?” I looked and seen I needed to go to the store, I asked

Lucas to go get dressed and he did, I changed my shirt and grabbed a few twenties. After he got

dressed I drove us to the store, grabbed some breakfast foods and things for lunch then we went to

Mcdonalds, which we rarely do, but we did since we felt we needed to mix things up. We ate in

the car and I sprayed my perfume and threw away the bag before we got home so she wouldn’t

get mad.

We got home and she was still asleep. I thought, “Maybe she’s dead, she drank too much and got alcohol poisoning.” But we didn’t get lucky, she woke up an hour later, a hangover and in

a pissy mood. The usual, nothing different, yelling, slamming things, she probably broke just

about five glass cups, vases, in two days. I cleaned it up before my brother stepped on the glass, I

didn’t want him to have glass stuck in his foot, along with bruises all up and down his arms, it

was only day two and he had bruises. I hated seeing him in pain, I wish that she would stop

drinking so much and just be exactly the same as she was before dad died. Later on that day,

around three in the afternoon, she was drunk, still, after an hour the alcohol she drank beforehand

had already left her body and she was sober, then she started drinking again. I always thought,

“She’s gonna gonna get alcohol poisoning.” Or, “Her liver’s gonna fail.”

It never happens, I don’t know how but it never happens. Here we are, sitting here, the

lady's name is Ms. Heberlein. She’s really calm and quiet, she looks around every once and

awhile and she’s observing the house, I knew it. We sat in the front room, where the kitchen is

able to be seen, the dishes were done and cleaned, crap. The rooms had a faint smell of alcohol,

good. Here came mom, acting as though she was so worn out from working so hard. She had a

towel in hand, drying off her already dry hands.

She sat down in front of the lady, we had sat next to her, keeping our distance, she wrote

in a notepad. After a second she looked up at mom, “So, I have seen that Lucas has been having

some pr-” “Oh I have tried helping Lucas with that, he’s been very disapproving of my help.”

Mom interrupted, she was writing again. “Let me finish.. Please..” A pause. “He has come to

school with bruises on his arms and body along with his face. He also has been having troubles

focusing on his school work and getting homework done.” Mom looked at Lucas in a secret

scowl.

He ignored her, looking at the lady, he felt safe, I could tell, it wasn’t a feeling but by the

look on his face he had a small smile on his face. I looked at him smiling then at mom, my smile

faded as I cleared my throat. “W-Well we did have a dog and it was very rowdy and the reason he

was having problems focus was that he was sad that we got rid of him.” Mom replied looking at

the both of us. Lies. Lies, lies lies, I wanted to call her out, saying she was lying. She wrote.

“So, you used to have a dog, it was rowdy and used to attack him, yet he was sad about

you getting rid of it?” Mom nodded, she wrote. She looked at me, “Is…” She paused and looked

at my mom, “Could me and Naomi have a minute?” She glared but agreed, her and I went into the

other room. “What I have is that you had a dog, it was rowdy and you got rid of it and your

brother was sad about it, is any of this true.” I wanted to say “Hell no it isn’t, she’s lying, all she’s

ever done is lie ever since my dad had died.”

But what I said was, “No ma’am it isn’t, we have never had a dog, let alone any type of

pet in our lives.” She nodded and wrote then put the pen in the little swirly metal thing that holds

the papers together, the clip on the outside. She put her arm on my back leading me back into the

front room where we both sat back down and she looked at mom. Mom had that glare on her face

again, when she spoke earlier she had a hint of alcohol in her breath, I think she could smell it. Mom was starting to look restless. I was right, she did drink herself sober. I’m not surprised, she’s

done it before, more than once.

“Well this is going well, I’m just going to look through the house.” Mom got tense, she’s

hiding something, beer cans probably. She looked as though if she could throw up she would. She

got up and she walked to our rooms first to find our bags packed, the echo of a pen writing could

be heard, footsteps, she went into the kitchen. She stopped and she wrote, then she headed

towards moms room, now she was really tense. She wanted to say something but she knew that it

would be the wrong choice, it would probably give it away that she was hiding something. I heard

something, it was cans, I knew it, she was hiding those beer cans in her room.

She walked out, looking at mom, mom's face flushed as she looked at the table, fiddling,

she f****d up. She knew that she did, “Damn kids set me up!” There she goes, the anger stage of

her being drunk sober. The lady looked at mom, “Ma’am calm down-” “No I ain’t gonna calm the

fuck down, those damn kids set me up, those beer cans aren’t mine!” She motioned us to go

outside. We headed towards the door and our mom started yelling at us, “Ever since your damn

dad died, all you have ever done is been useless, annoying brats!” We passed her and went

outside.

All we heard was yelling, then after a while it stopped, I knew she was crying, she finally

realized that she’s done messed up. The lady came out and she had our bags, we were led to a car,

my phone buzzed as I got into the car, it was Ryan, “So you aren’t gonna come say good bye?” I

remembered he had to leave school early today since his dad was sick. “Well I was about to say

the same.” I replied. I asked her if we could go see someone right quick, she asked who, “Ryan?”

Lucas blurted. I nodded and he smiled, I told her how to get there.

After we got there he was standing outside, it had started raining, he had his hoodie on. I

ran out of the car and hugged him. I was getting kind of cold and soaked from the rain, I didn’t

care. After what seemed like forever, I stopped hugging him and he looked down at me, his bluish

green eyes full of tears. I chuckled softly, “Come on Ryan it isn’t like we can’t see each other.”

He nodded, “I know but who is gonna be my lab partner now?” He whined.

I felt bad, he took off his hoodie after a moment of silence and put it on me, smiling. I

smiled back, feeling warm in his hoodie, it smelled of fresh rain and cinnamon gum. I knew he

could tell I felt that way, he always wanted me happy no matter the consequence. He said he had

something for me and to close my eyes, after I did so and his lips met mine, I stood there in

shock, not knowing what to do, he stepped back, “A little something to take with you.” He said

chuckling softly and walked inside, I stood there for a few seconds then walked back to the car

and sat in the seat. No sooner I sat down and closed the door Lucas started singing, “Naomi and

Ryan sitting in a tree-” “Oh hush Lukas.” I said chuckling.

I checked my phone, Ryan texted me, “Enjoy my little gift for you? (Winky face)” I

shook my head chuckling and replied, “Sure, don’t know why you waited so long to give it to me.” I put my phone in my pants pocket and we arrived at a small building, after we arrived she

led us inside, the rain has stopped but the fog was still covering the ground, the sky still dark. I

wondered why it was so dark, it was supposed to be a happy day, not gloomy. My phone vibrated

in my pocket, I got out of the car and walked into the building. I felt as though I was happy, kind

of, nervous out of all but happy we are now out of the abusive situation. When we sat on a couch,

I pulled out my phone, “I was too nervous (Blushing face) I kinda wanted to but I never got the

guts to.” I looked at the phone for a second, not knowing what to say.

“Well, I’m glad you finally did, you did the job for me, lol.” Sent. The lady was tinkering

with her phone, she was calling someone. She’d looked over at us, giving us a reassuring look, it

reminded me so much of my dad, the half smile, everything. I tried to smile back but I just

couldn’t, my phone went off just then, it was from mom. I deleted it before I even read it, I knew

it was along the lines of, “Why would you kids do this to me? Now I have nothing left of your

father.”

Or “Now that you’re gone, I can finally breathe, I don’t have to deal with you

selfish brats.” My anxiety rose, I started fiddling, my heart raced super fast. My little

brother could tell, he reached in my bag and handed me a small stuffed cat my dad got me

for my seventh birthday, I took it and clutched it close to my chest. Soon my heart slowed

to normal but my vision was blurry, I was crying again, the lady seen so and grabbed a

box of tissues and handed them to me. One hand still held the cat while I grabbed the box

and uttered a thank you. She nodded once, I recognized that it was kind of a thank you,

my dad did it all the time. I grabbed a tissue and wiped under my eyes, thank goodness I

don’t wear eyeshadow, I would look like a demon child crying.

At least that’s how my dad described girls that have cried wearing too much

mascara. Anyways, I sat there, my phone went off again, it was Ryan, of course, “Well, I

wanted to ask you something but.. I don’t want to since you are going through everything

right now…” I looked at my phone and I bit my lip, thinking of what to say, “Don’t

worry about me Ryan, I’m tough and you know that.” I erased it, “Well.. I respect that

but you know I’m tough, I will get through all of this, just go ahead and ask.” Delete… I

sighed, “Okay…” Sent.

I put my face in the hoodie, it was cold but it smelled like him, I felt safe again,

we were away from.. Her.. and she is probably drunk again. She texted me again, I

glanced at it, “This is why your dad killed himself a month ago..” I read it, “He just

wanted to get away from you two, you’re a bunch of brats, lying, selfish, brats.” I deleted

the message and stuffed the phone in the pocket. My brother sat there, he was fiddling

with his pockets, trying to find something, “Whatchu looking for?” He looked at me,

“The necklace dad gave me for my birthday this year…” I looked at his neck, it hung

there, “Bro check your neck..” He felt his neck and let out a breath of relief. My brother felt as though he had too many science projects and he wanted

something different. I remember going to the store with my dad to shop for it while mom

and him stayed home. We went to one store looking around, “What about this one

naomi?” I glanced over at him from the selection I was looking at, he had a silver

necklace with a bear hanging, “Mm.. Nah I don’t think he would like that one.” He put it

down, “You sure about that?” I giggled and looked at him, “I’m beary sure.” He chuckled

and ruffled my hair, “Well we’d better get looking or else we will be late getting home.”

We looked and looked until we found one, it was a locket, it seemed that he liked

it, he loved it. We had also put a picture of dad in the locket, which I thought would be a

good idea, and it was. He wore it all the time to school, he bragged to his classmates

about the locket, everyone knew, whether they wanted to or not. After a while he calmed,

it was something he kept on all the time, to bed, to school, just about everywhere he went,

that locket went with him. At the funeral he wore that locket, he clutched it in his hand

the whole way there, when we got there, he said, “I wish daddy was still here..” I lost it, I

cried, I fell to my knees in front of his casket. I felt someone's hand lay on my shoulder as

I sniffled and looked up, it was Ryan.

Now that I think about it, Ryan has always been there for me, ever since

kindergarten. Heh, it reminds me of when I had lost my pencil in third grade and he let

me borrow his pencil, the reason I remember this is because this was the first time we’d

ever touched. We never hugged or touched ever, this was odd, for me at least. I quickly

grabbed the pencil and sat it on my desk and wrote my work, I glanced up, he was

looking at me, not in a like, “You could have at least said thank you” look. But more of a,

“Oh my god, you just touched me” look. That also reminds me of when we were in sixth

grade and we had homework due and I never understood the math, so I asked him to help

me that night. When he said yes, I walked home with him instead of taking the bus like I

usually do.

As we were walking, we stayed quiet, I wasn’t the loud type, neither was he. The

only noises that were heard were just the chirping of birds and the sound of passing cars

here and there. He broke the silence, “So what’s getting you so stuck on math, Naomi?” I

looked over at him, “Well, I just don’t understand it, the way Ms. Kamin explains the

math.” He nods and continued looking ahead as we walked, “True, it is kind of confusing,

but once you understand it, it’s much easier.” I looked ahead and nodded, it was quiet

again, it wasn’t that bad, silence, I’ve always loved silence, but just wanting to hear his

voice break the silence was another thing.

It took a bit to get to his house, by the time we got there, my legs were tired but I

didn’t mind. I sat on his couch as he sat next to me, he grabbed his homework as I did the

same, “So, let's get started, shall we?” I nodded. We sat there, he explained it to me, I

nodded, “So you bring that number up here after adding and you add that to this number.”

I nodded. He glanced at me, “You understand what I’m saying right?” I nodded. He looked at me, “I can’t hear your head bobbing up and down..” I looked at

him, “Sorry, yeah I understand, you add those numbers and if it’s too big you add the first

number with that first number.” He nodded, “Good.” I looked at the multiplication part,

“Welp I give up..” He looked at me, “Oh the multiplication… Don’t give up it’s not as

hard as it seems.”

He took my pencil and wrote a few numbers and I watched, “5, 10, 15.” I looked

at the multiplication problem, “3x5=?” I glanced at the both of them, “What do these

numbers have to do with this?” He explained, “You multiply the five three times, think of

it this way, you count by fives three times or you can count by three five times.” I thought

about it and gasped softly, “Oh.. Okay” I nodded and wrote fifteen as the answer. I

finished my homework and we still had time to spare, I was to be home at seven and it

was only four thirty.

We just chilled out and watched a movie, it had some sort of deer in it and the

mom died, very sad, but a light hearted movie. At the end we somehow were cuddling

and I was in his arms laying down on the couch. I had fallen asleep for a while, which

reminds me of when I was in his arms on that tree stump and when we were on the couch.

Four years later but for a different reason, not because we got bored of the movie and we

still had time to spare, but because I was hurt and I couldn’t handle being alone. Of

course I’m just rambling off again, I don’t mean to, really I don’t but I guess just keeping

everything in and being a silent type you have a lot more to say but never really say it.

But as we sat in that room, it became heavy, not the type of heavy like depressing but

heavy as in hot. Maybe it was just me, stressing over everything but one thing just slipped

my mind, I’m going into an orphanage.

She drove us to this large, eerie building, it was actually larger than I expected, as

she drove into a rocky driveway, children were outside playing. All of their heads turned

towards us in unison as if they were all the same person. I could almost guess the ages of

those kids, most were at the most fourteen, the least at seven. I felt bad, my heart dropped

to my stomach, not knowing what to expect, as we stepped out of the car my brother kept

a tight grip on my hand as he held his bag with the other. The lady lead us in through tall

wooden doors, the halls were eerily quiet and there was doors left and right every few

steps. One door was cracked open, I glanced in and seen desks, at the least, six rows. The

room had colorful design and it had the letters, “A B C” Taped to the wall in the back by

some other pictures I couldn’t quite make out but I did noticed some sort of cartoony

caterpillar smiling in my direction.

A stairwell that lead up in down was in front of us, it looked as though that it was

made of marble, I ran my hand over the railing and it was cold and smooth. My brother

did the same, the lady glanced back at us and smiled softly. I looked down the stairwell

and couldn’t see anything but darkness. It made my stomach turn as a cold breeze blew from the downstairs. I stepped back, I wasn’t scared it just made me feel.. Off. We kept

walking until we got to a wide door way and walked in, “Hello, come take a seat.”

The lady looked as though she wouldn’t hurt a fly, her voice was soft. Her hair

was done in a bun, better than I could have done, she had a rose like colored shirt on and

a skirt to match. The room was like a principal's office, it has a desk and two wooden

chairs in the front of it. She sat back in the chair, it was a leather rolling chair, as she sat

back, it make a soft squeaking sound. We sat in the chairs as Ms. Heberlein had stayed

standing, “So, you must me Naomi and Lucas.” She said after a moment of silence, I

nodded, “Yes ma’am.” I replied softly.

She smiled, “Call me Ms. Ava, I’m not the strict type, hun.” I looked up at her

after looking at the tile floor, focusing on dots. Lucas looked at her in curiosity, he was

trying to focus on her face, get used to her. She noticed and looked at him, “Curious, are

we?” He looked away, he felt guilt, “Yes… S-Sorry.” Her face showed worry at this

point, “Don’t be sorry for being this way Lucas, you’re a kid, you’re supposed to be

curious.” He looked at her and nodded, “Sorry.. I actually am very curious kid, just

sometimes curiouser than other times.”

She nodded, “You’ll fit in just fine with the others.” She smiled softly which

made Lucas smile. I fiddled with the jacket strings, it was now halfway dried, it wasn’t

that wet in the first place but it kinda was cold, the wind that came from down stairs

didn’t help. I stayed quiet, the only sound that could be heard for a few minutes was the

chirping of birds outside and occasional kids talking to each other. Her soft voice cut

through the silence, “So how old are you Naomi?” I looked at her, “16…” She nodded as

she looked at some papers. She looked at Lucas, “And how old are you?” He replied,

“Eight.”

He smiled softly, “I’m turning nine next year.” She nods, “Okay,” She sets the

paper down, “Here, we teach our students in the building but we also have a bus that

could take you to school which is something you could have a choice of doing.” I nodded

and so did Lucas, “I think we could stay in the building, f-for our safety, I mean..

Y’know.. Just in case.” The woman nods, “Understandable.” Lucas looks at me and nods

as he looks around the room and sees graphs and pictures of people scattered on the desk.

He looked at her, “What are those graphs for?” She looked at the graphs then at him,

“These are the number of kids that live here and when the got here, it’s just for

precautions.”

He nods, “Oh okay, that’s like what we did in my class, we compared how old I

was to how old my other friends are.” She chuckled, “It’s something like that.” She

cleared her throat and nodded, “So you will have a room you will stay in, I hope you

don’t mind sharing a room with someone.” I shrugged, “Me and my brother have always

shared a room, I don’t think it will be that bad.” She got up, she was tall, possibly 5’9,she walked out, “Follow me.” We got up and followed, we went down the stairs, the

clicks from her shoes echoed as she walked through the hallways, lights glowed down the

hall. She pointed to an empty room, two bunks, one on each side, it reminded me of

summer camp in fifth grade.

We set our belongings on the left side of the room, we noticed a teddy bear on

the bed on the right side, bottom bunk. This indicated that a kid probably stayed in that

room, the top bunk was messy, it looked at though someone attempted to make it but

failed, so maybe a teen also stayed in the room. I sniffed the hoodie sleeve, it still smelled

like him, a calming sensation flew through me as I felt safe, Lucas looked over at me, he

had his locket in his hand. I smiled softly at him and ruffled up his hair, “This is a new

beginning, and no one can take it from us, no one will hurt us anymore.”