Watered Down Bones

Curiosity was thick in the air as I nervously walked from my room to the wooden door at the end of the narrow hall. As I reached the door, my heart thumped in my chest. Fifteen years, it’s been fifteen years since anyone set foot inside that room; my father’s office.
Turning my head to make sure mother was still in her room sound asleep, I placed a shaking hand on the cold steel handle. With an almost inaudible creak the door opened easily. I stepped foot inside and sighed. Nothing had changed from my memory. There were cobwebs and dust on the wooden desk that resided in the far right corner but everything else remained the same. Books and papers with my father’s messy handwriting were spread out from the desk to the counters hanging loosely on the walls. A smile tugged on my lips when I saw some dusty pictures of me when I was younger, gapped teeth and my dad’s arm around my waist. I didn’t recognize where they were taken, but our smiles were so big that I wished I remembered far enough. I don’t remember much about my father, just what mom tells me.
“Your father was crazy,” She would slur. “Never did anything for anyone.” I learned early to stop talking and asking where he went and what happened, for it upset mom to great lengths. While I was trying to figure him out, mother was soaking up bottle after bottle of hard liquor to shut everything out.
The longer he was gone, the more upset she got. Anger quickly resulted in violence as she began to hit me more frequently and fiercer. Bruises would form, teachers began to ask questions. I always defended her though.
On dad’s desk I saw pictures of him and mom before he left smiles bright as they gazed into each other’s eyes, I know she misses him. He loved her too, as far as I could tell. So why would he run away? Why would he leave us, leave her? It just never seemed to add up to me.

“Anna?” I turned around rapidly to see my mother, bottle in hand, yawning. Even with sleep in her eyes I could tell she was upset. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, uh, I just-“She cut me off.
“I told you not to come in here.” She slurred. My body tensed up as she walked up to me and grabbed my wrist tightly, trying to pull me. “Don’t ever come in here!”

“But mom…” She slapped my cheek roughly; I gasped and almost fell back from the force of the hit.
“You’re so selfish! You just want to hurt me!” Her voice echoed throughout the walls.

“No mommy, I-“

“Shut up! Just shut up!” She dropped the bottle, glass and alcohol piercing the floor, and pushed me up against the hallway wall. “You’re so stupid. He’s not ever coming back! He hates you!” She barked, her breath reeked of alcohol, and started to repeatedly slap my face and arms and shoulders. Hit after hit, each one tougher than the last. Tears threatened to fall down my freckled cheeks but I refrained from showing fear. It’ll only make her hit harder; control, it’s all about control.
I just stayed limp until she got too tired to hit me and burst out crying. Seeing her tears made me forget, only briefly, that she was just beating me. I could see the pain behind her anger as she tried to wipe her tears away.

“I hate you.” She cried as she leaned into my chest, giving me a slight hug.

“Shh, it’s okay.” I whispered as I stroked her hair softly. “You’ll be alright.”

Years of this, of seeing her in pain, made me understand that nothing I do, no matter how well or big, could ever help her. She was lost. My face and body ached as I continued holding her, until her cries turned into sobs then to little whimpers. Eventually, I walked her to her room, helped her in bed, and tucked her in. I closed the door as I walked back to my father’s office, cleaned up the mess, and closed the door tight. The last glance I received in the room was a picture of all of us smiling and enjoying life. I don’t remember being that happy, which I guess is a good thing because now I can’t miss it.
I went to my room and crawled on the ground. That’s when the weight of everything hit me, and hit me hard… Like a train. When I’m alone, that’s when I realize that nothing will ever change. Mom will never be happy, I’ll never know my dad, I’ll never know if he is dead and underground or alive and breathing, if he loves me or left because he never wanted me. Seeing those pictures of us together was like a dream, a different world. I had to wake up, it was time to go, but sometimes reality is my worst enemy and I’d rather spend my life in a dream. At least there I can’t be hurt, can’t be harmed.
The tears I managed to contain were finally letting loose as they slid down my chin. Putting my hands in my face I cried, not caring if mom heard me or not. I’m not strong enough to carry all these burdens around on my shoulders, one day I’m going to break and do something destructive, something I’ll regret. Violence was my mom’s sanctuary, disappearing was dads, what was mine? What was to come of me? Because trying to cope and act like everything is perfect isn’t working out as well as I thought.
My room seemed smaller as I lay on the floor sobbing, more crowded. Air was hot and muggy, so uncomfortable. The fan that stirred above me barely worked as it loudly turned counter clock wise. Everything was calm.

“Your appearance is all that matters,” My mother would say. “If you’re unstable on the outside then it’s clear you’re unstable in there,” she would poke my chest. “Sometimes it’s better to compose yourself, conceal your wounds. If you’re pretty on the surface no one will ever figure you out. Don’t make yourself weak.”

I took a quick glimpse in the small mirror that hung from my white wall. I was a wreck, brunette hair pointing out in outrageous spots, green eyes masked from tears and puffy pink skin underneath them. I got up from the ground and sat on the edge of my bed, the springs worn from years of resting. “I’m so tired.” I told myself. “I wish…” What? That I was happy? That dad was here? That mom cared? No, I won’t allow myself to think those dreaded thoughts. I tugged off my black striped shirt along with my shorts, leaning into the mattress, I turned off the light. Darkness began hovering over me, wrapping itself around my limp body as I yawned, engulfing my bones. I closed my eyes and covered myself up with the grey duvet I had.
And, despite the events of the day, I drifted off to sleep. Allowing my mind to release the stress and search the world, without a struggle.