Concrete Castle

“You know, that wasn't half as bad as I was expecting.” I mentioned, settling down in John's passenger seat.

“Uhhhh....thanks?” John chuckled, buckling in, “I think.”

“Definitely a compliment.” I nodded. “And you better be grateful, I don't give those out that much.”

“So I've noticed.” John chuckled.

Pulling into my driveway after just random chatter, John got out and walked me to the door. Yet another gentleman point for him. This guy kept it smooth and knew what to do to make a girl swoon. But, I'm not the swooning type.

“Well...good night, John.” I said, hand on the door knob.

“Yeah, good night, Daisy.”

And, okay, I'll admit, the stupid nickname was kind of growing on me. At first it was annoying because I am definitely the furthest thing you could compare a flower to, but...it was kind of sweet that he was trying at least...?

I shut my door with a sigh, peeping through the hole to see John still standing there was a weird look on his face. He actually looked a little confused. I wonder what that's about. Next, was Baylee's interrogation.

“So how was it?” She asked, reminding me of a dog the way she was poised and eager, her elbows resting on the top of the couch as the rest of her knelt on the cushions.

“Good. I mean, nothing bad happened, so...” I shrugged, getting a water from the fridge.

“You guys didn't fight?”

“We...bickered about a few scores on the score card, but other than that, no.”

“Where'd you go?”

“Miniature golfing. At that place my dad always used to take me. It hasn't changed a bit.”

“So, he was actually nice to you?”

“Yeah....” I trailed off. Maybe John and I were finally going to get close. And maybe that was a good thing.

“So, what the final verdict, would you go on another date with him?” Came Baylee's usual final question.

I shrugged, grabbing a towel from the hall closet, “I don't know...maybe.”

Taking a shower and getting ready for bed I realized, I didn't hurt as much when I was with John. And that thought made me want to bash my head against the mirror or something.
I didn't need a man to help me out. I had been completely, well, at least mostly, dependent since my I had turned sixteen and got a job and a car. Why should now be any different? Why should John be any different.

He's just some punk kid. No one special. Especially not to me.

Frustrated, I combed my hair out and sat at my desk in front of my books. I suddenly felt all the energy drain from me. I was exhausted. Not sleeping does that to you. I should really sleep. Risk the nightmares for one night.

I'd give it all to not worry about something so stupid as nightmares. Granted they were nightmares on steroids, but still. I'm almost nineteen years old, you'd think I'd be able to stand a few bad dreams. Feeling I couldn't stand it anymore, I curled up in bed.

Only to stare at the ceiling for an hour. Because, though I tried so hard not to, I kept thinking of John.

Nothing I could remember about him in middle and high school even hinted at him liking me. Either, he was just a better actor than any of us could guess, or he's lying. But, why would he lie?

That wasn't even the biggest issue here. Why was I thinking about John?

He's rude, insensitive, immature, loud, and the list goes on. But, he's funny, carefree, and happy.

I wish I could be happy. Not this fake kind of happy I put on so people wouldn't ask questions. I want to be genuinely one hundred percent happy. Like I used to. I want to be carefree. I don't want to have to worry about money, college, life.

Or why I wasn't killed with my mother. That would have made things so much less complicated. He should have just finished me off. I shouldn't have fought so hard to stay alive. But...why had I fought so hard when I knew, when I woke up, that my entire life would be destroyed?

Was there something I had been looking forward to? Something I had wanted? I don't remember. All I remember is the pain.

I shot up, pain going through my entire body. I grabbed hold of my chest, panting. Empty.

The initial feelings of shock from falling off my bed passed and all I felt was emptiness. The room was pitch black, no moonlight seeping through the window shrouded in black curtains. Not even my alarm clock was giving off any light.

Had the power gone out?

The tell-tale sound of heavy rain pounding on the roof told me that it was another monsoon. I thought that season was over finally since there hasn't been a storm in two weeks. Usually it last until halfway through September, so I shouldn't have gotten my hopes up.

This one seemed to be a particularly bad storm, I thought, as there was a crack of thunder followed immediately by a flash of lightning.

I hated rain. It always put me in a bad mood. Wednesday of next week. That was the day. It rained for a week straight before that happened, as if it were a sign of impending doom. I hope it doesn't rain for that long again.

Checking the time on my phone, I was upset that it was only four in the morning. Due to the lack of power, I figured there wouldn't be any classes today. I picked myself off of the floor and got dressed in warm clothes for a change.

Picking up my umbrella, I walked to the cemetery. I didn’t want to drive because I wanted to prepare myself for the pain and hopefully keep it together this time around.

….

I almost hated going here, just because it made me cry so hard.

Mary Elizabeth Foreman

What an ugly last name. Foreman. I hated it almost as much as I hated the man that gave it to me. To us.

Standing in front of her grave with feelings of guilt and sorrow, I couldn’t see straight. It happened every time I came here. I cried like I never had before, at least when I wasn’t looking at my mother’s tombstone. “I’m so sorry, mom. I miss you so much.”

I had always thought talking to a grave was pointless and unnecessary because they couldn’t actually hear you. It was times like these, though, that I really wanted angels or spirits or whatever to be real. Just so she could know how much I miss and love her and wish that it were me that dad had completely torn apart.

After all, it was all my fault he had gone crazy.

I hadn’t realized I dropped the umbrella until a gust of wind hit me, shooting me with cold needles due to the wetness soaking through my clothes. “I love you so much.” I sobbed, falling to my knees in the mud.

So much for actually keeping it together this time around.

I hate crying, but at least in the rain no one could see the waterfall of tears. Not that there
was anyone around to see. But, I’m betting the sobs could be heard for miles.

To me, crying always shows weakness. Weakness of character, heart, resolve. Crying made you worthless. Cradling my head in my hands, I spouted the same nonsense that I always did at mom’s grave. I was sorry, I couldn’t protect her, I love her, I miss her.

Going back, I didn’t bother putting the umbrella back over me, I was already drenched and frozen to the core. It was only a thirty minute walk. It gave me time to make myself presentable to Baylee.

“Devon?” A voice asked as I was walking down the road next to the seven/eleven. I looked over my shoulder at none other than John. “What are you doing out in the rain?”

“I could ask you the same question.” I tried to sound like my normal self, but I’m not sure how well I did.

“Difference is, I’m not soaked. Technically, I’m not even in the rain.” He answered, buying my façade.

“I was taking a walk.” I pointed behind me toward the cemetery.

“To the cemetery?” John look confused. “What for?”

I cleared my throat, “I was—uh—visiting my mom.”

A look of understanding crossed John’s face. “Oh.” He said blankly. Recovering, he cleared his throat like I had moments ago, “Do you want a ride back to your apartment? You look a little cold.”

I was freezing, but still I debated. “I don’t know, John.” I said uncertainly.

“You still have a ways to go, if you don’t get in willingly, I’ll just have to force you.” John warned. I sighed, nodding. Sitting in his car, I thanked him quietly. “No problem, Daisy.”

“So, what are you doing here?” I asked conversationally.

“I needed gas, duh.” John chuckled.

“Right.” I let out, staring out the window. I hoped at least my eyes weren’t red anymore since I had stopped crying.

“Are you okay?” He asked, turning the heater up. I didn’t even feel the warmth.

“Yeah, never better. Why do you ask?”

“You look a little…out of it.” John spoke carefully, trying not to offend me.

I shrugged, “It’s probably just the rain.”

“You chose to walk in it.”

I have no clue whether John was clueless to the lie or just being compassionate to my not wanting to talk, but whatever it was, I was glad. I definitely didn’t want to get into it at that moment.

Or ever.

I shivered violently and, once stopped at a light, John slipped off his leather jacket. “Here.” He said, handing it my way. “Take of your sopping jacket and wear this. You look like you’re going to freeze to death.”

“But what about you?”

“I’m actually roasting now, thanks.” He chuckled as I slipped off my jacket. Even my shirt underneath was soaked. My white shirt…I quickly put on John’s jacket before he caught sight of my black bra underneath and slung my hair in a ponytail.

“So…I get the whole mom thing, but why didn’t you use your umbrella? Did you forget how to open it or something?”

“Or something.” I answered simply.

“Look, I know normally you don’t really want to talk to me, but something else is going on here. Are you sure you’re okay?” John pressured.

So he wasn’t clueless after all, he was just trying to be polite.

“Just…issues I’ve been having. You don’t even have to worry about it.” I sighed, pressing my forehead against the cold glass. “Why are you up so early?” I asked, glancing at the clock.

“Good question.” John smiled, “I woke up for classes just to find out this torrential rain storm hit.”

I can’t believe it was at mom’s grave for three and a half hours. It was already eight o’clock.
“Oh. I see.” I looked out the window as John neared my apartment, fear coming over me. I didn’t want to go back there. All the stress, worry, complications.

I couldn’t do that right now.

“Take me away.” I said breathlessly. “I don’t want to go back.”

“What?” John asked incredulously.

“Let’s go somewhere. You’re dropping out, you don’t need to go to class. And I…I just need
to get away for…for a week. And then we can come back.”

“But…why?”

“I….I can’t tell you right now.” I didn’t make a move to leave the car as John pulled into a parking space.

“Will you tell me eventually?” John asked softly. I looked at him finally, shaking my head.

“I don’t know.” I whispered.

John sat back in his seat with a big sigh, his cheeks puffing out. His hands were still poised on the steering wheel as he seemed to be in deep thought.

“All right.” He said finally, “Where do you want to go?” He asked.