Breathe Me

“You know, Blair, you seem to be taking this really well..” My father drifted off wistfully, but there was something behind his casual tone. I could tell he knew more than he should. Was I really letting on that much?
To be brutally honest, I was not taking this well at all. I was angry, scared, and the worst feeling of all: lonely. I didn't want my dad to know this, it would tear him apart. Still, I wished we could turn the car around and go home..
Go home, I murmured to myself in my head.. that wasn't home anymore. I stared out the car window, trying not to focus on the freeway flying past. I shook my head, and turned to look at my father.
“Dad I'm really excited to be here. You know I am.” The lie sounded more believable than usual. I supposed I had been saying it so much lately that I'd started to believe it.
“I hope so, Blair. I really do. It's going to be great, I promise you.” It was hard looking at my dad when he had that look on his face. He frowned and his brow furrowed, causing the wrinkles on his forehead to deepen. His eyes looked tortured, like he knew what he was actually putting me through.
“Relax, please dad? I'm happy to be here,” I shot him a hopeful grin, and it seemed to help. “Anyways, I never did like the sun that much. California was starting to bug me.”
He knew it was a lie, and a grin broke out across his face. Me, hate the sun? That was ridiculous. I chuckled quietly.
“Blair honey, you're such a liar.” The tortured look almost returned to his eye. I knew I had to act quick.
“Besides,” I started, smiling to more so to myself than to him, “I really did need a change. Every day was the same.” I murmured softly, and returned to staring out the window.
My father and I exchanged no more words for the rest of the car ride.
* * *
I suppose the best way to describe my first impression of the house was spiteful. It was beautiful.. absolutely breathtaking, and I knew it, even at the time while I was being an angst-filled bratty teenager.
The house wasn't huge – no, it was not a mansion or anything close. But it wasn't tiny, either. Three bedrooms, two bathrooms. Perfectly capable of housing only two people. It was light brown colour, and the windows were huge. Overall, a very welcoming and open house.
But what caused my rash first impression was the fact that it looked so very much like my grandparent's house. I could hear my mother's voice like it was yesterday. “My dream house? I moved out of it when I was eighteen. Honestly, there's nothing I want more than a house like my mom and dad's.” The memory stung in my head, and as I began pulling my bags out of the car, I could feel the traitor tears burning at my eyes, threatening to give me away at any moment. I cursed myself in my head, screaming “get it under control!”. It did not help.
“Dad,” I adressed my father, praying my tone would not give me away. I thanked God that my back was facing him. If he could see my face, there'd be no hope..
Luckily, he was busy trying to pull one of my other suitcases out of the trunk. It was stuck, and I could hear him groaning and cursing behind me.
“Yeah, Blair?” He asked, still tugging at my suitcase. Quickly my head played out a funny scenerio: my father pulling a bit too hard, the bag becoming unstuck, and him shooting backward, falling on the ground. I smiled in spite of my morose mood.
“Which room is mine?”
“You get – the room with the – bathroom.” He got out, still pulling his hardest at the suitcase. When I felt I had composed my face in the safe mask that I was so used to putting on, I turned to face him. I quickly interrupted his efforts and easily slid out the suitcase. I sat it on the concrete, and stared at him with amused eyes.
He raised his eyebrows. “I loosened it for you.”
I grinned. “Yeah, dad. Sure ya did.”
I swiftly picked up the suitcase and headed down the walk way to the house. I opened the door, not bothering to take in my surroundings – I didn't want to. I almost ran up the stairs when I finally found them, and I found the room at the end of the hall that had it's own bathroom. I threw open the door to see my new sanctuary. My bed, my desk, and my dresser had already been set up. It was for the most part, a big room. The walls were painted black, which surprised me. I liked it, through, and I knew that all my things would match perfectly. My bed was a queen, with a frame made of intricate black wrought iron. My bed had been my favorite thing in my old bedroom. It was the most comfortable and familiar thing I owned. I exhaled, and stared at the huge window that was parallel to the door I'd just walked in through. I made a mental note of how lovely the view must be at night.
The walk in closet would certainly be a plus for any other girl, unless her name was Blair Victoria Sommer. I wrinkled my nose in distaste – there was no way my clothes would fill this much space. My father should have made it a guest room. I closed the door to the closet quietly, and walked out of my new bedroom to help my father bring my bags up. It was a long day.
* * *
That night was somewhat peaceful at first. It was three o'clock, and my father was passed out in his bedroom down the hall. Most of my things had been set up. Even my very nice computer was in working order. My satin, blood red bedspread was now wrapped around my body as I lay in my beyond comfortable bed. The candles on my dresser were still flickering, making shadows on the walls. I closed my eyes finally, and decided to let sleep take me.
That was before I heard it.
The screeching of tires, skidding to a stop SOMEWHERE on my new street. My eyelids snapped open, and I shot up, running for the window. My eyes adjusted in the dim light after a few seconds, and I was able to make out a shape getting out of a car from across the street.
He walked with such grace it was agonizing. My skin tingled with envy. He closed his car door, and it hardly made a sound. Then he stopped. It was as if he knew someone was watching him. Impossible, I reminded myself. The window was shut, and I hadn't made any noise, unlike SOME people.
Then he turned, in a motion so swift I hardly saw it. He looked up, and for a long moment his eyes met mine. His were blank, hard and cold. I could only imagine the expression that was frozen on my face. To be honest.. in that moment, he looked strangely violent. Still, I yearned to understand him. Why was he out so late? Why did he look so menacing?
Then the oddest thing happened. As if he knew what I was thinking and wanted to prove me wrong, he smiled a small crooked smile. It knocked the wind out of me, it was so beautiful. I felt the blood rushing to my face but I didn't care. We still stared for what felt like hours, and then suddenly he spun around on his foot and ran into his house. I stood there at my window like an idiot, almost waiting for him to come back. Dazed, I shook my head. What had just happened?
I didn't know it then, but that was the exact moment my life had been altered. So much so, I probably would never be the same person again.
Suddenly I was dead on my feet. I staggered back to my bed, and for some odd reason I felt remarkably better. I curled up on my side and drifted into a dreamless sleep.