Carrying the Fire

The night had gone by undisturbed up in the trees and eventually the last of the migrating mob of Biters had moved on. I was able to climb down from the tree I'd sought refuge in at first light and continued to find the rest of my supplies I'd stowed up another tree well west of where I had to hide. Amongst listening to the soft croaks and squawks of the wilderness I looked for my landmarks embedded in designated trees, three small little nicks in the bark, to confirm my bearings but small enough not to attract any suspicious eyes. On the way, I could begin to hear a distant whisper of churning water just a few yards up ahead. A small smile to cracked my chapped lips for I began to pinpoint my whereabouts, confirming my suspicions as I came across the thick blue vein of the woods. My shoulders slackened in relief that I now felt less estranged from the terrain of forest I was more familiar with. I was close and by the looks of the current and it's width, I was down stream from a retired camp of mine.

Before heading back to my supplies, I decided to follow against the torrent, observing it's crystal currents beginning to eventually slow and reveal the broad pool of distilled turquoise water it ran from. At the river's edge a waterfall with a tall display of cascading laminar flowed, connecting it from upstream before it tumbled over the rock ledge to crash back down and rejoin it's path. I dipped my finger tips to test how chilly the water felt and rubbed off some of the dried Biter blood that was too old to disguise my scent anymore. The first time I'd come across this little corner of the forest, snow had still been fresh against it's banks and if it hadn't been for the turbulence at this junction of the river, the water would have frozen silent. All leaves had already fallen from the trees overhead back then, and sunlight danced along the surface to reflect off whiskey dark water through naked branches. Though the sun's light seemed dimmer against the water this time than I remembered it. Or it might just seem that way now with the absence of my last companion beside me to enjoy it.

"It looks like glass." I tried to swallow back the lump bobbing in my throat as I remembered the little girl who wanted to remain camped at this spot after fleeing Woodbury. "It's so pretty, isn't it Olive?" At the time, I'd been practically half-alive from the morning sickness I suffered from well past mornings, and the bitter cold of early Janruary that forever burned in my bones. Sweet Penny, the little girl determined for us to stay the good guys... bless her, she did as much as she knew how to help me through my obsessive nausea. The emotion behind her ocean-like eyes had been enough to lift my sickly spirit and smile with her, remembering the time I had given in to lingering here for her sake. Sighing at my drifting thoughts, it seemed there just couldn't be a day that went by I didn't think about Penny or Todd in some way. Merle's jibes from the other day were still fresh and haunted after me.

"Don' got Todd to nurse ya' through them breathin' episodes of yours no more. Or anymore lil' girls to throw in fronta' ya'."

But much like last time, I was still wary to linger around this waterfall, conscientiously aware it had a potential risk of attract the wrong attention so I had to be quick about this wash. Still faintly familiar with this location, I scoped the area over easily enough, checking any blind spots I could remember until I deemed it safe to stick around for the time being. I made sure to stow my supply bag up a tree nearby just incase something should happen I need only carry as little as possible to make a quick getaway rather than risk losing all my supplies. I could always come back for them if need be, but it still tore uneasily at me to leave behind the rifle and Todd's sickle, only taking my compound bow with a few arrows and some of the new clothes I'd picked up from the run.

Creeping behind the tattered-like curtain of falling river water, there was a secluded little cove behind the hollow roar of waterfall Penny and I had once spent a few days camped behind in the winter. Setting down the clean clothes with my bow and arrows along the smooth rocks shaped over time by the ever overflowing spring, I took a soothing inhale of the crisp chill at the prospect of seclusion from behind the foam-white layer of water that for the most part shielded any outside onlookers. It was as good of a secluded spot to bathe as I could get and began to peel away my blood and sweat soiled clothing until left in just a sports bra and underwear. I slid my body between the gap of water behind the shower-like downpour, hissing at it's frigid sting against my already goosebumped flesh and slowly lowered myself until my shoulders sunk below the surface. I wished my body would hurry and get used to the waterfall's glacial temperature, shivering next to small wisps of wind that fluttered from the stream's downpour, sending light mist to sprinkle over my bare skin. With trembling fingers, I began to gingerly rub away the dried blood caked over the unpleasant scrapes I'd received all over my palms from climbing, feeling the sting of cold water soothing their swelling as I soaked them clean. I watching the water turn a murky copper around me as I continued to scrubbed away at my arms and shoulders, relieving my body from the rather disgusting combination of layers of filth. Bucking up the courage, I dunked my head below the surface for a few moments to run my fingers through my hair, brushing through loosened tangles that flowed in weightless spirals around me until I retreated back up for air and plastered the now wet strands flatly down my back. I rubbed at the splattered blood encrusted around my neck and cupped my hands to splash my face until I could no longer wipe away any traces of grime. Proceeding to dip my head back, I let the rush of falling water beat down against my scalp and truly noticed the usual heavy weight of my former waist length hair missing, now severed just past my shoulders when I reached to brush my fingers through the jagged ends. My once long drape of hair I once constantly restrained in a long braid or bun, yet had refused to cut, was gone and at the hand of my own blade. I couldn't help but sulk at another part of my old life, the way things used to be, severed away from me because of these flesh-eating monsters.

While letting the dirt soak off my body, I grabbed my dirtied clothes and gave them a brief wash as well. With no soap, I could only attempt to get off what I could by rubbing at the large stains on my khaki colored pants and my (luckily) black shirt under the downpouring faucet of river rain. I couldn't help but notice the part of my body that had been covered under my jacket was for the most part clean and untouched by any blood or dirt. A couple months ago I would have felt myself washing bones under skin, as I'd become very malnourished during the winter with such little food as it was and my inability to keep in what little I did eat. My hip bones had once peeked through my waist and my stomach dissipated during the worst of months. But not any longer. That is, until it seemed not too long ago I had just one morning woken up and realized my stomach had discreetly rounded, beginning to protrude firmly below my naval, and it certainly wasn't from me eating well. When most of my intense nausea tapered off, I had gotten my hopes up that I had caught the flu from winter's exposure or was just too malnourished. But the day that small little bulge appeared in my abdomen, it was a crushing blow to the denial I'd held on to all winter. Lingering absently over the small bump, I sighed and frowned down at the evidence. Still only slightly noticeable, no one would know any better with my jacket on and it almost reminding me what my stomach had once looked like if stuffed from a large meal or after drinking too many beers, before the dead began starving the living. Although, this was now permanent, and there was no just sucking it in.

Amongst all the grudges I filed away in my memory, I felt the most embittered at Todd for not being present through this terrifying responsibility. I had to admit I felt sorry for myself for being all alone, and it ached at me when I thought about how maybe if I'd told Todd my suspicions about my missed period before he left on that last run with Merle, he might have been less willing to die a martyr for Woodbury's secrets. After coming together to escape Atlanta, we had connected so closely with the Blake family, Milton, and Michael, having survived only because of each other in that apartment. Todd had even extended his hand to rescue the half-dead and one-handed Merle on our escape from the city when the rest of us wanted to bolt without so much as looking back. Once past the obscene outbursts and insults, Merle had proved to be a man you wanted covering your back, saving Todd's and Philip's ass plenty of times- including mine. Eventually tamed to co-exist unconfrontationally amongst the rest of us, for the most part, Todd, Philip, and Merle formed a close comradery while Brian and I watched the group's progression from a more skeptical vantage point. I knew towards the end, it was hardest on Todd to accept how twisted his brothers had really become, clinging to a hope that he could pull back the reins on Merle's and Phillip's madness. We had survived with these men, shed blood and shared heartache with them, that it was disturbing to watch this new world warp their humanity. Through everything, Todd had a loyalty and love for Woodbury that pained him deeply when it turned it's back on him, in denial until that last day his brothers would betray him so coldly. I firmly believe when he left with Merle that last day, he was aware it was a run meant to kill him. It wrecked me with so much fury for days to know he had gambled his life so carelessly, believing he could save Merle from carrying out Phillip's sins. No tears escaped me anymore when I thought of that last week in Woodbury, most likely having cried my heart dry by now. I continued to rub my wet fingers across my stomach for a moment, still wondering how I would pull off surviving to the birth of this baby- let alone raise it in a world that ate the innocent and good-hearted alive.

Once determining this would be as clean as my clothes would get without any soap, I wrung the remaining water out of them and threw them to dry on the rocks. It felt nice to be fresh and free of the sticky blood previously encrusted all over me, but the chill of the rock enclosure made my body begin to shake again as I pulled myself back out to put on the new dry clothing. Pulling on a t-shirt, fortunately a men's large that hung loosely over my stomach, then a dark navy blue zip-up jacket that provided just as much coverage with my fingertips barely peeking below the sleeves. After rolling up the jacket up my elbows, I bent down to pull up a pair of black sweatpants over my still wet underwear. Maybe I would stop to find a nice patch of sunned trees to sit in and dry as I'd be cold and uncomfortable for a while until I dried underneath.

When I was finishing up stuffing my pant legs in my boots, I suddenly heard a rustling of bushes coming from the other side of the fall. My body froze in place as I strained to disifer what it was. There was no denying something was parting back twigs and bramble to snap in protest while small pebbles were lightly jostled and crunched under what distinctively sounded like footsteps coming from behind the wall of water. Any composure I had accumulated seized. I was a sitting duck with zero coverage inside if someone took the time to scout behind in the cove. A low whistle could be heard just faintly over the sound of roaring water- getting closer, alerting me it was definitely alive trying to remain silent. Saying to hell with my drying clothes, I balled them up in my arms, shouldered my bow and swiftly stuffed the couple arrows I'd brought with me through my belt, clearing all evidence of my presence. Wasting no time but tried to move just as lightly to keep from disturbing the water too loudly, I lowered myself back into the water so I could be completely in up to my neck. Waiting in fear, I began piecing together my plan of escape but I had to get control of my breathing to pull it off; there could be no hyperventilating if I planned to hide. Be strong, be strong. You are strong. Todd chanted through my head over and over as I listened to the approaching footsteps and could make out an approaching shadow at the end of the enclosure.

Praying to whatever God that might be looking out for me, I took a long breath and submerged back under the water. Clutching my clothes close to me, I held tight to my bow around my shoulder to keep them from floating to the surface, then began to pull and kick to swim towards the bottom of the pond directly below the row of pouring water. If anyone took the time to notice, they could only make out so much below the distorted viewpoint above the rippling surface. I closed my eyes and willed myself to stay close to the bottom and remain calm as I held my breath. There was only the muffled roaring of water beating down on the surface just a few feet above, but I soon tuned that out too.

Instead, I willed myself to remember the deep purr of a cello as it's strings were stroked from deep legatos and the soft, delicate taps of piano keys. Even after death, Todd still comforted me, and now while I pictured his hands the day we spent listening to Michael's borrowed record player laying in bed. That day, he had returned with the resource team and shut himself in our room all afternoon. He had been so fragile with this pleading forlorn look glistening back at me through arctic blue eyes. His dauntless iceberg-of-a-gaze that had consoled me through everything and more, were melting in front of me. He had yet to tell me why, but I could understand without words needing to be spoken. Cupping his hands around my face, Todd brushed his thumbs so needily under my eyes, as if I was the one about to weep, and finally shut his eyes as he rest his forehead against mine. It all resounded through me in flashes as I willed myself to remember a time I had been strong for the strongest man I knew. I had never felt more needed by another human-being, so I had let him thaw and unravel that day, embracing him to unburden his aches into me. For our whole five years together, I had never felt his hands need my body so much.

Unsure how long it now was that I'd been under, I began to awaken from my haze of memories and realize I was becoming lost in them rather than comforted. That disturbed me, but before I could think too much into it, Michael's music had ceased and my lungs shriveled up inside my chest as my body was trying to force me to resurface for air. It wasn't until darkness began to pull at the corners of my vision under the water did I determined my body was not just subconciously freaking out and I would need to go back up before I really did drown myself. If whoever scouting hadn't deemed this vicinity clear by now, I might face events making me wish I'd just drowned on my own terms.

Pushing off the bottom, I let myself shoot back up while kicking to the surface, my heavy boots making it more difficult with only one free arm to pull with. Bobbing back up to the surface on the concealed side of the fall, I gasped but instantly tried to stifle most of my heaving but my lungs were so desperately needy. Momentarily weak from the lack of oxygen, I tread my way back to the rock ledge and gripped on as I tried gulping for breaths of air. Surveying both sides to enter through the waterfall's cavern to see what I'd immerged to, I was relieved to see no one as they must have passed by. I set my bow on the stones and pulled myself back out, cringing as water dripped noisily off my now completely soaked clothes. I spared a brief pause to ring out the water from my other pants and windbreaker just above the surface to reduce the noise before stuffing them as best I could in my jacket pockets. They hung half out but I was too anxious to take the time to stuff them completely inside the jacket's small incisions. Pushing back dripping wet hair from my face, still down and unbraided, I shrugged off my bow and picked the opposite direction to flee the footsteps. I nocked one of the arrows I'd kept in my belt and slowly crept towards my exit, my hand already pulling back on the bowstring to prepare if I needed to fire.

The forest air was still crisp with a small clinging spring chill, but the sun was beginning to peek higher though the trees which was appreciated as I shivered in my wet clothing. I peered slowly around the end of the drapped river, my bow aimed downward as I investigated the banks and treeline for the strangers, but everything was clear. Turning back, I felt uneasy and the disquiet perturbed me almost as much if I'd immerged from the water with a gun in my face. It hadn't been just an animal, or even a Biter... there was a definite whistle blown sharp enough to grab someones attention and the footsteps had been much too quiet. Or maybe, I really was going crazy paranoid out here alone so long. I glanced back around and scrutinized the area over again, but still nothing in sight. A little irked I might have just soaked my new clean clothes and done some crazy hiding for no reason, but I had to restrain my curiosity to investigate and focus on just clearing out of this area. Clothes would dry. I could brush my hair out later. If I was right about the living coming up on my spot, I could wind myself in a situation with devastating consequences. It wasn't just Merle or Woodbury I was worried about, I'd seen other evils out in the world with a pulse.

As I made my way from behind the waterfall to disappear back into the treeline, I noticed before I slipped away how the brush parted just a few paces away. If there was a small group at the least, they could have came up on the waterfall this direction- or left this way, but there were quite a few tracks of feet leading several directions and I wasn't sure how much time I'd have to investigate. Licking away water off my lips that dripped down from my hair, I felt at a gamble on which direction I should take. I followed a section of parted brush and fractured twigs to figure out which way these people were coming from so I could escape, if that made any sense. Determining the steady direction they'd headed in after a few yards, I recognized they were in fact leading to the closest highway that cut close to the creek and decided to break off and head south-west instead. I'd have to wait making my way back to the tree, it was too big of a risk these people might follow me back to my supplies. But it just gnawed at my judgement and I couldn't refrain myself from doubling back for my weapons.

When I was almost close enough to the tree I'd left my sickle and rifle with supplies from the run, I shimmied as quietly as I could around a few bushes and sapplings but halted in my tracks at what I'd stumbled on. Behind the bushes, a woman had just been rising from a squat and readjusting her pants. Hearing me brush back a few twigs, she was startled and turned around to see what had snuck up behind her. My breath hitched in my throat when this woman snapped around to reveal a heavily swollen and protruding pregnant stomach bulging through her unbuttoned flannel against a long white tank top. The woman reminded me of a doe caught in an open clearing, her glass eyes wide with fear as our gazes met for a brief silent moment. Not missing her hands protectively shield over her stomach when she took a frightened step back, I broke our eye contact and couldn't help but stare at this woman's stomach heavy with child. It was overwhelming that such a fragile creature could be surviving in this world; she must have been at least coming up on her last month of pregnancy and looked dreadfully helpless in her condition. Like the night before, I don't know why but I felt my hand flutter over my own extremely smaller bump through the wet jacket. This would inevitably be me, and that terrified me. She seemed to catch my own gesture, but I quickly put down my hands. Daddy might be close by, I thought reminding myself of the whistle from earlier. I shook my head silently at her, trying to will this woman to see I meant no harm to refrain from calling out for help like I saw she was about to do. I turned to run back out from the bushes, forgetting my hopes of nabbing my weapons, but found myself colliding into another body that almost toppled me over from the hard collision.

It all happened so fast, my head whirled to keep up with these jeopardous occurances. I yelped and I stumbled back from who I'd run into, seeing it was a man collecting himself just as quickly to glare back at me through the sights of a crossbow. Any trace of good fortune I'd thought I had from the waterfall plummeted when I saw this man was holding his aim up at my face, dark eyes glaring dangerously hard down the end of his bolt. He was taller than I, having to tilt his aim down from his own vantage point, but was not stout or hulking like some of the men Philip had taken to recruiting on the recourse teams. Under all the smeared dirt and possibly old blood, his arms extended out from a sleeveless leather cut stretched over muscles that seemed to comfortably hold the weight of the crossbow against his shoulder. The face that held mine in it's sights was just as filthy, his unkept hair matted dark against his forehead with sweat.

"You bes' stay put." It was a quiet rasp, but an unnerving warning that was dark enough to keep me from raising my own bow. With wide eyes, I watched him emit that same sharp whistle I'd heard earlier and knew he must be calling for backup. Knowing there was no chance of facing down more men, I had to ball up and take the small window of time I had before the rest came. My own heartbeat echoed in my eardrums, taking one last shaky breath to charge straight towards this stranger aiming down at me. It was a deadly win-lose gamble I was dealing, but that's all I had left in this world when it came to survival now days.

Lunging back in surprise, he hadn't expected me to sweep forward and thrust my shoulder into his gut like some lineman as I ducked to avoid the arrow he triggered instinctively, almost freezing at how close it had whirled past my head. Not taking the time to examine where the bolt fired, when he stumbled back to avoid me I took the chance to slip past and make my run for it. But before I could get too far, I felt myself just as quickly yanked back to see he had grabbed a hold of the bow I had clutched around my arm. Panicked, I swung around to try and knock off his hold but instead he just pulled back harder and his other arm dropped the crossbow to grab at my waist. Doing the only thing I could think to rid this male off me before the people he called came to assist, I kicked out and connected my boot into his groin, elisting a grunt of pain. The tight grip around my waist fell when he reached down to grip the afflicted area for a moment but this only seemed to infuriate him more as he kept his hold locked around my bow and tried to grab for more of me. Twisting in his hold like a snared animal, I scuffled frantically to keep from allowing him pull me down where he would surely overpower me and dug my nails deep into the hand grasping at my jacket. My nails dug under skin and drew blood, enticing more enraged shouts but still he latched on to me! I could only think of one last chance to throw this son of a bitch off, and spun in his grasp to release the bow looped around my arm holding me back. Before he could reach out and take another hold of me, I bolted, yanking out the fist-full of my jacket he'd grabbed. I faintly felt a sharp sting slice my hip, but it didn't stop me from shooting out as fast as my legs could take me.

I didn't care that my soaking wet clothes weighed heavily on me or that my boots were loud and squelching against the forest floor, my only focus on this next escape. Doubtful I'd be able to outrun this man so close behind even with the groin injury I'd delivered him, I ran back to the stream. Running towards the bank's treeline, I could hear trampling of footsteps running through the thicket behind me, chancing a look over my shoulder to glimpse how many pursuers had joined. There were now two others; one man stared coldly down the end of his revolver that glistened alarmingly ahead as he ran while the other just right behind was a bit heavier statured and ebony-skinned, brandishing his own gun in one hand and a firepoker in the other.

"Stop! Stop or we'll shoot!"

You'll shoot anyways, I thought paying no mind to their threat and kept on sprinting. If I could just last a little longer ahead of them I'd find the junction of river I could have a chance of loosing them in. I could begin to hear the churning of water flowing faster against the banks as I weaved around trees and bushes parallel to the passing stream. A shot rang out that brought my arms to instinctively shield over my head and protect my face from bark flying off a tree trunk the bullet had dislodged. The deep roar of the torrent was picking up and so were my pursuers as I barely missed another shot.

Deeming this a good enough spot as any, I burst out of the treeline, having to risk full exposure this close to the river. The water probably went up just a little past my waist if I stood up in it, but it's current was at an acceptable speed as I watched leaves and other debris fly by on the murky waters. I was already wet- might as well dive in for another swim. The thicket behind me parted and I whirled around to see both men run out with their guns brandished at me, the third following close behind with his crossbow raised to aim. They could have shot me easily at this moment, there was plenty of opportunity to extinguish my life with the lightest pressure on a trigger.

Before I could give them any longer to deliberate my fate, I turned back around and dove feet first into the pulsing current. Instead of steadying my stance down against the floor, I curled in my knees and let the river wash over me, leaving my escape up to it's course. After a few moments passed ducking below the water, I straightened myself enough to bob my head back up for air. Spinning back around with the water's laps, I felt the current couldn't be fast enough as I looked back at the men watching the stream take me away, their weapons still trained after me. They ran closer to the river's bank and I pleaded to myself they would leave me be and just save their ammunition. The water splashed me back around as it began to rapidly pick up in speed and I used my arms to help doggy-paddle with the current, hopefully carrying me now out of shooting range. These strangers could have run after me and shot me dead in the water, but they seemed to either show indifference or mercy on me as I still craned my neck around to see them growing out of sight. I couldn't tell if i choked out a laugh or a sob of relief when I realized I had escaped the living just narrowly, yet again. However, a new fear fluttered in my stomach as I looked on ahead at the river started to splash wilder and began to turn into rock-studded white water. I also began to realize these stones were growing larger in size and appearing more frequently.

At first, I was able to maneuver with the current around most of the boulders that were jutting out from the surface since they were closer to the river's bank. But I soon began seeing they were gathering closer towards the center as I looked on ahead with dread at the water propelled me right towards another one of the large waterlogged stones peeking out, seeing how roughly the water was smacked against it before passing by. Anticipating my crash didn't prepare me for how hard my shoulder was knocked against the rock and I just barely avoided my whole body smacking into it. My teeth clenched as I tried to bite back a yelp of pain before I felt another charlie-horse-like slam against my thigh by a concealed rock I hadn't even seen. I was spun back around but hastily tried to turn myself forward to anticipate what was comming, but a sudden sharp drop in the water caught me off guard and my body was pulled under. All I could see was white as I felt myself scramble to immerge back to the surface from being tossed around and at this point, panic was beginning to engulf me as much as the current. Finally I felt my head pop back up long enough for me to see the oncoming rock smack dab in the direction I was still being pulled in. The only instinctual thing I could think to do was curl in a ball back under the water until I felt my back slam right up against the hard stone, this time letting myself scream below the surface only to be knocked by another rock that shot piercing pain through my knee cap. I was lost under the tangle of foam, feeling my body yanked too powerfully for me to control anymore as I lost which sense of direction was up. Abruptly smacked from panic-stricken terror, my head swung back as if I'd just taken a punch when I felt another boulder scrape across my face. After that last blow, I felt myself go numb under the water, only feeling a dull bruising that pulsed with my heartbeat through what seemed like every portion of my body.

This was it, I thought with my eyes still wide open, seeing everything but yet nothing at all as I felt myself come down from my panicked state into a calming realization. Everything around me felt like it was flowing past me, still trying to yank me down into a fate I was becoming less weary to embrace, yet I felt myself at a stand still before it. I was going to die in this river. Not torn and ripped to pieces by Biters. Not tortured or raped by the living. My empty lungs would lull me into a sleep and I'd be snuffed out below the water's surface, just as easily as the possum I'd shot the day before. And I felt at peace with that.

Letting my eyes flutter closed, I could just truly let myself be with Todd now. My head tilted back as I tried to imagine the water stroking passed my face, down my neck, substituting as Todd's hands while they soothed away any my body's batterment. The way he used to trail the back of his fingers against my cheek and brush them down the corner of my lips and wander below to the peak of my clavicle, before he followed the same outline with his lips. I could still remembered the shivers his warm breath would ignite against my flesh to between my legs. Like the day we let ourselves just be together to Michael's records.

"Well isn't that just precious."

Abruptly released from Todd's consoling, a voice startled me awake to a doorway I'd wandered towards. Doused in chilling recognition, I wasn't surprised when I looked up to see the room's green wallpaper peeling from the water stains on the ceiling, or the framed U.S. propaganda posters collected during Vietnam hung nailed to the tacky, dark floral print. I could distinguish this was once my childhood home's spare bedroom my dad had eventually just turned into his study. In the corner, a stereo was powered on with the slow, lazy trumpets of an Eddie Floyd song crooning from the speakers. Amongst the room's clutter of maps and old photographs strewn across my dad's desk and bookshelves, my mother was hunched over in a brown couch I remember being told was given to us by my grandmother, and eventually thrown out. Looking drastically younger in age, I realized this must be another memory of mine, before when my mother's figure was fuller and her face less gaunt looking. Rhian Somerset was once a strikingly attractive girl I only remembered by pictures anymore, yet this was not far enough back and I could see the dark circles already forming under her eyes that would forever sink into her face; my mother had not aged gracefully. Like deja vu, it begrudgingly dawned on me which time this was between us. Standing in the open doorway, I was looking in at my mother spewing a thick fog of smoke through her parted, dry-looking lips resembling the pollution of a power plant like I remembered she was. Looking only mutely startled I had walked in on her, she just stared back from behind dark glassy eyes, her pupils so dilated I could barely make out a sliver of her actual storm cloud colored eyes. The pookie and lighter in her hands dropped limply, but not out of her grasp. I wondered if she even felt the heated glass against her thigh. It disgusted and irritated me that of all moments in my life to interrupt my memories, it had to be disrupting my mother's boofing. At the time of this actual occurrance, I had thought the smoke was just from a cigarette my mother was notorious for always having one lit in hand. I wouldn't understand just what I'd seen my mom smoking until a couple years later. There were no words exchanged between us at first as her inebriated half-open eyes just stared, her perfectly sculpted eyebrow arching up in a way that reminded me so much of my sisters. She shook her head back at me, choking on the last wisps of smoke as she tried to laugh away the stunning awkward tension, scoffing when I just gawked back at the woman I'd been convinced was wiped out in the first wave that obliterated California. Being in and out of my life as long as I could remember while growing up, it began to infuriate me she would be here now of all times.

"Trying to get off one last time or what?"

Embarrassed my mother was making her familiar jokes at my dispense, I narrowed my gaze hatefully, remembering her tendency to humiliate all too well. Rhian seemed to never miss a moment to make snide little remarks when she was loaded, trying to pass them off as if she'd said something amusing. I could recall when my sister and I began going through puberty, she had wasted little time throwing out the slut and whore remarks, especially to Nat who brought the most boys around.

"What are you even doing here?" I muttered, faintly aware my words weren't muffled by water I thought I'd previously been submerged beneath. Rhian just snorted and broke out into a toothy grin.

"Not much, Babygirl," she sneered, teasing me with my dad's term of endearment for Nat and I. Rhian used to get incredibly jealous of our relationship with my dad and would throw it at us like she was making disgusting assumptions, usually after her longer disappearances. "Just looking at my good-for-nothing knocked up daughter is all."

My gaze turned down the way I remembered it used to when I was a girl. I'd just bear through whatever my mom felt she had to say, however irrational, and wait for her to hurry up and finish her rants. Nat on the other hand, would learn she rather defend herself when she eventually grew old enough to argue back, inheriting her own venomous retaliations. It just caused a longer and sometimes violent fight to erupt, so I would usually choose to remain silent.

"Wonder what Saint Todd would think if he could see this pathetic shit, you giving up like this and killing off that kid he just wanted so bad."

I could feel my teeth grit with building tension. Did I really have to hear my mother bitch me out before I died? This was suppose to have been my time to be at peace!

"Shoulda' stayed where you had it easy, Babygirl. But if it was me, I woulda' took care of that shit three months ago like you should've," Rhian continued. "Or maybe, you could've just kept your legs closed."

Tears felt like they were on the precipice of slipping loose, but I blinked them back furiously having always resented allowing Rhian the satisfaction of seeing she'd made me upset.

"You'd make a shit parent anyways," she joked off-handedly. "I mean, you couldn't keep that other girl alive for a couple days. How the hell you plan to handle a fucken' baby?"

"Shut up," I bit out. Leave it to my mother to know just where to dig her claws into a fresh wound. "Penny wasn't my fault-"'

"And I guess she woulda' been gutted if she'd stayed with her daddy then, huh? Please," Rhian snorted. "It was you who fucked up."

For the past couple of months, I'd felt incredibly at blame for the death of my very young friend, but hearing it out of my mother's mouth sent a new rage to ignite my bones and bubble up my throat.

"But now you don't got two burdens- at least admit that shit. You were glad you lost that other responsibility like you'd be glad if you woke up tomorrow and lost that baby. From the second you thought about it, when your rag didn't show, you wished you'd lose it. Just like you wished Penny hadn't been dragging you down-"

"SHUT UP!" I yelled this time. "You don't think I wish it had been me instead of Penny? And who the fuck are you to talk? You never wanted to be our mom!"

My blood was boiling as I got to tell my mom everything I secretly wished I could have when she was alive. This insensitive bitch never deserved to be a mother either.

"I was the one who practically raised Jemma! It was me, Nat, and dad changing the diapers and up at night feeding her because you couldn't even stay clean for nine fucking months! It never mattered to you that you could've given her permanent damage or that they were gunna take custody from you, as long as you could smoke all the meth you wanted!" I yelled so loud my breath was running out.

"I tried!" I felt myself hollering at the top of my lungs that it began to scratch my throat. "I tried doing everything Todd taught me. I'm doing everything I fucking know how to keep this baby alive. I don't know what to do anymore!"

I was spilling my heart out to my mother, freely sobbing in the doorway at her, yet all she did was sit in the chair and tap her finger against the glass that still had grains left to be vaporized. Unlike my sisters, I inherited the least of my mother's features. Except for our eyes. I looked again into my mother's piercing onyx eyes and knew I was looking at a reflection of my own; and it revolted me. I could recall always wishing since I was a little girl I had received my father's soft, leaf-green iris' instead like Nat and Jemma. If there wasn't such a nasty sneer sprawled across her face, I could have mistaken them for Biter eyes.

"Like you're trying right now?" my mother snorted, her eyes rolling back at me. Despite he looks, she had never been known for her gracefulness.

Looking down at what she'd missed from the glass pipe, Rhian's clouded eyes paused up at me with a look I forever recollected, already anticipating her bringing the pookie back up the her lips and sparking the lighter underneath its center to allow smoke to form again. Not caring her daughter was watching.

"But I guess I'd be pissed too, Babygirl. All the shit that man gave you, bitches at you for a baby, and goes up an' dies on your ass. After he finally got what he always wanted," Rhian continued on with zero filtering and just scoffed at how humorous she thought it all was. "I'd wanna go to sleep too Babygirl, don't worry, momma understands."

Feeling horrified my mother could relate to all the deep unmentioned emotions I secretly felt, I subconsciously stepped back to recoil away but realized my foot wouldn't move as if cemented down. For a moment I could only just stare at Rhian bring the pipe up to her lips and hiss as she inhaled the acridic vapor. After she let the smoke dance from between her lips again, her eyelids fluttering as she sighed leisurely and smiled back over at me with an emotion even seeing for a second time I would never be able to recognize. Before anymore words could be spoke between us, I forgot how my dad had walked in on us and flown into a fury, yanking me out and slamming the door behind him. I had been left to listen to my parents scream at each other through the door, the soothing twang of Eddie Floyd's last lyrics ceased...

"...Oh when your good love, good love, good love, has been a bad, bad love..."

When I opened my mouth to call after them like years before, I was met with a sudden mouthful of water. Jerked back into reality, the door's silhouette disappeared into white foam and sputtered on water I'd just inhaled. When I tried to pull myself up for air, I realized my foot being stuck was real. The reason I felt suspended in place was due to the fact my foot had been caught in-between a few rocks tight enough the current had yet to yank me free. It was the river that flowed over me so roughly while I remained in place, not death. Yet. While trying to pull my boot out from under the cluster of boulders trapping my foot, my lungs screamed in my sternum for air just as frantically. My hands searched through the avalanche-like foam and hooked around my shin to tug back as hard as I could to attempt prying my boot loose. It took a few hard, despersate last-willed yanks, but the rocks gave way enough allowing me to pull my shoe loose, finally releasing me from the water I was about to let claim my life. Coughing out the fluid in my lungs to make room for air, I was able to latch on to the swarm of boulders that had caught hold of me before the current could sweep back over and take me further down the rapids.

With my last fuse of strength, my fingers dug so hard into stone that they trembled violently while I tried to haul myself up the closest boulder protruding out and continuously slapped by the passing stream. My arms were just too exhausted from the day before to pull me up as I kept sliding back down the slippery slope of the rock I tried to keep myself up on. Using my legs, I pushed up with everything I had, my feet holding on desperately to a few small indentations in the rock I'd found to keep me from slipping back into the pulling current. Every step up the rock, I couldn't tell if I was grunting or shouting, but all I did know was that my thighs were burning and shaking while the rest of my body pulsed painfully. When I finally had a hold on the edge of rock tilting out of the water, my legs wound around it as my head knelt down in exhaustion. Still coughing and gagging out massive amounts of water I'd swallowed, I had to tilt my head to the side and tried to heave out what I could back into the river. The lingering emotions of a thundering fury and the burn of old resentments still festered as my body began to surrender to them and sobbed against the boulder. My hands clutching tightly around the wet stone as my body was raked through by my weeping that synchronized with the river's waves.

"What am I supposed to do?" I screamed hoarsely up at my mother and Todd to hear. "What the fuck do you want me to do!"

Only the sound of thrashing rapids answered me while I remained conscious enough to cling on to life