AWAKEN

Tainted Grounds

From that night on, I discovered the truth. When my parents died, the nightmares came forth. It was like a switch inside my body, but it flipped from light to dark.  Sometimes when I thought I finally was awake, objects moved in my room or disappeared. 

When I was a little girl, it would replace a familiar dollhouse with a single large wooden block or a teddy bear on a shelf that was usually on the shelf was missing. It was little things I had to watch. I was smart, though. I always knew to listen to Daddy's wise words. 

Beneath the headboard, I would check for the one evidence that kept me grounded to reality. If there was just plain wood and nothing more, I knew to keep fighting my battle, but if his letters were there, I could breathe again because I was finally awake.

*****

A breath of relief escapes my parted lips as I guide my fingers on the engraving. Tonight, the initials BK &JK are here. 

I sit down on the hardwood floor and rest my head against the railing, feeling thankful I made it through once again. I am sticky and sweaty, but it doesn't matter because all I can think about are my parents and grandparents. They were so different from one another. 

Mama and Daddy were always busy. They never stayed home. It would be a day or night; it didn't matter to them. They still had something to do. My grandparents were the complete opposite. They rarely left our home. They hated fairytales and bedtime stories and believed the world was square, not round.

Papa would say, "The Earth is square. Always has been. Always will be. Just because some damn fool came along and brewed up some new idiotic theory doesn't make them right, Brea. They just somehow paid off the government and the press enough money to believe in them." 

They were very... different. 

Although they were unique, I loved each one of them unconditionally, but growing up with my grandparents was difficult because I could not share my nightmares or secret in my room.

******

My grandmother wasn't too bad. She made me fresh chicken noodle soup. She would have said, "You woke up sick again, Brea? You just need some of my cooking. That's all."I swear sometimes I can still smell the warm broth in my kitchen when I come home from work.

I reach over the side of the bed and pick up the quilt that I had kicked onto the floor. I pull it to me and squeeze it tightly against my chest. My grandmother made it for me years ago, after my parents had died. She had pieced it together with shirts and other fabrics that Mama and Daddy had brought back from all their travels. She knew how much I missed them, even when they were alive.

My parents never settled for long. They traveled across the land and the seas. They seemed to be always searching for something. I never knew what, though. My grandparents warned them many times to stop looking. They never did.

I have learned one trait about myself. I admit I carry a little of all of my family within me. I inherited my restlessness from parents. I always feel like there is more out there, and I believe fairy tales were real once upon a time, but as my grandparents, I am too scared to travel. I would rather stay at home than go anywhere. The only place I visit now is to work or hang out with my best friend. Maybe one day, I will have the balls to travel, but as of now, my nightmare keeps me safely rooted in the simple life I live in, the state of Virginia.

I have only one friend. She is my best friend.

I remember the day I met her at the playground. I was playing in the sandbox. There was a short blonde-headed girl next to me. She had a Ken and Barbie doll, and on the other side of me was a little chestnut-brown hair boy playing with a big, green dump truck. I asked, "Do you guys want to play together?" My voice had come out awkward when I asked. I wasn't much on talking to other children my age.

The two children responded as I expected them too. They instantly snarled their lips and wrinkled their noses in disgust and refused to step near me. Matter of fact, I remember the little girl hiding her Barbie doll as if I would give it cooties. They did not bother me very much. I didn't need a friend, anyway. At least that is what I said to myself to keep from being emotionally hurt.

My parents had just died that year. So, it was just as easy to keep to myself than reach out to others. I rolled my eyes and continued to play in the sand, creating shapes and figures with my fingers until I heard wicked laughter coming from the other side of the swings. I looked up and discovered there was a group of boys walking toward me. They appeared to be a few years older than me. I remember thinking boys that age at a park was nothing but trouble.

The boys each wore black t-shirts with foul words spread across them, black leather pants, greased hair, and matching steel-toe boots.

One boy appeared to be the leader of his group, and all the other boys followed behind him in a pyramid form. They reminded me of black crows walking about with their chest poked out.

The closer the boys come, I tilted my head and stared at every detail. I noticed the leader had long, brown, unkempt hair, and a hoop earring dangling from his ear. He was chewing on a cigar at the corner of his mouth. The closer he got, the deeper his wicked his laugh became. I will never forget that laugh. It was a terrifying sound for someone my age. Chills ran down my spine, but I still never moved from my spot.

Piles of sand flung against my tiny body. I looked away long enough to see where it was. It was the boy and girl. They were being escorted swiftly away by their mom and dad. As I watched the cowards run away, I remember wishing my mommy and daddy were there too, but I knew they were dead. All I had left in my life were my grandparents, and they were at home arguing with the news on television and drinking two-day-old tea.

The boy stood in front of me while the others hovered close by him. He rubbed his chin slowly back and forth and scrutinized every inch of my body. It was clear even for my age what his intentions were. "Hey, Little girl. Why are you here all alone?"

I just sat there. I didn't say a word, nor did I bother to get up. The bully continued. "Did you hear me, Little girl?"

Another boy snickered out loud. "I guess not, Wesley."

I stared and whispered his bitter name upon my tongue. "Wesley..."

Wesley smiled. He enjoyed hearing it too."Where are your parents, Little girl?"

He slowly licked his teeth. "You shouldn't be here all alone. It isn't safe. You should come with us. We promise to make sure you're never lonely again."

A few of the boys were snickering, and others were looking at me with the same intensity as he was. They should have scared me. I should have tried to run away from all those vile boys, but my mind filled with curiosity if I could take them down. He didn't like that I was not afraid of him. It made him livid. He took one last puff of his cigar and threw it at my face.

I didn't cry or flinch. Instead, I tilted my head even further and watched him - never blinking - not once.

By this point, Wesley was full of rage. He kicked sand directly in my face. The sand flung into my eyes seemed never to bother me either. "You shouldn't have done that," I warned in a monotone voice.

The entire park went dead silent, the wind stopped, and the parents and children disappeared. The only ones left were the bullies and me. I stood up and glared hard at Wesley. He grabbed his stomach and laughed profusely. "Look, boys... we have a little freak on our hands! No wonder Mommy and Daddy didn't want her anymore! I would have gone away too!"

The words went right through to my raging soul. No one had ever spoken to me that way before, nor had they said such foul comments about my family. The boys behind him started to tease me. They repeated over and over,

"Freak! Little Miss Freak!

No parents of her own!

Freak little miss freak.

The poor little girl is all alone."

Their wicked laughter rang through my ear, canals. I started to breathe fast and hard. Distant fears of not being able to take Wesley on were there, but I had enough confidence and self-pride never to back down.

Wesley snickered. "Awe, did we hurt the little freak's feelings?"

My body temperature rose at an alarming rate. Sweat beads poured down my temples. Not a moment later, small drops of ice-cold water began to hit my arms. Together, we looked at the sky. It was eerie knowing just a second before the sky was sunny and warm.  Wesely's mouth gasped in shock as the clouds swirled different shades of green and black.

Next to me, a curly blonde-hair girl appeared out of no-where. She stood directly in between us. Her mouth pierced at the corner while she glared hard at the vile bully. Having her next to me somehow made me feel stronger. I stared into Wesley's eyes and balled my nails deep into the palms of my hands. My knuckles turned as white as a ghost. I was ready to kill each one of them.

The little girl tilted her head over her shoulder and looked at me and said calmly, "Not yet, Brea. It's not your time."