Guilty Mind

After my probation officer Eve, whose name I learned eventually, dropped me off at the house, I sat at the curb with a duffel bag at my feet. I stared at nothing in particular. I was just wasting time. The driveway was full, which meant everyone was home. For some reason, I was embarrassed.

I wasn’t in a hurry to go inside even though I missed them dearly. I was so close yet I had never felt so far away from my family. I tugged at my sweater, lifting the collar and trying to cover my neck. The sun was in its final hour and the temperature seemed to have dropped miraculously. I had to face them at some point.

I was a disgrace to the family. What did they think of me now? Were they thinking by letting me back in I would bring trouble to the house? How could I face them when they could barely look me in the eyes on my last day of freedom? Why would they want anything to do with me now?

This was my house too. I did live here my whole life. So why did I feel like I was a guest to my own family? Did they want me back? Would they kick me out? Was I even welcomed anymore? Gosh, this was stupid.

I really shouldn’t be left alone with my thoughts. I hated residing inside my head. It was never good and I always fucked up. I had made bad choices and regretted them. How much more bad choice was I to make in the future?

A car sped down the road, pulling me back to reality. Thankfully, it had distracted my train of thoughts. I sighed heavily and grabbed the duffel bag. Sitting here doing nothing was building my anxieties. I had stayed strong these last few years, but I running low on strength and my courage seemed to have left with Eve.

Who was I supposed to be now that I was no longer that girl who followed a bad case of romance where the boy promised me things and told me words every girl dreamed of hearing? Now that I had my head screwed on straight, where did I go from here?

I was slow walking to the door, but once I got there I hesitate on the door handle, my hands shaking. As bad it this sounded, I was okay with sleeping at the detention center. I had made my peace with it. I didn’t always like it, but I guessed I got too comfortable there that everything else in life made me nervous.

I opened the door ever so quietly hoping not to disrupt whatever everyone was doing. I couldn’t just go to my room and avoid everyone. That wouldn’t be a good first impression back home.

I heard laughter in the living room at the back of the house. I gently put the duffle bag down at the bottom of the staircase and took my shoes off. Chattering and laughter continued to echo.

With a big breath, I walked in.

Everyone stopped talking and looked at me. Virginia squealed as she got on her feet and hugged me. Meanwhile I observed the room. My father was missing. My mother was sitting silently on the couch in disbelief as if I actually made it out alive. My brother’s eyes were blank, but the girl I didn’t recognized sat next to me looking confused.

The twins were smiling. I was relief that they remembered me. They were six when I was gone. Virginia told me a few times during her visit how they twins kept asking where I was and when I was coming home. As the time went by, they slowly stopped asking altogether.

The twins jumped off the other couch and ran to me. Virginia had already let go and I got down on one knees to hug the twins. My nerves had calmed down a little more.

“Mom, look who’s home!” my little sister said joyfully, while keeping one arm around me.

“I see that.” She forced a smile.

And my heart dropped. My own mother wasn’t too happy to see me. I couldn’t blame her. Meanwhile, my brother and the girl had left the room. I nodded at Virginia to take the twins so I could go find my brother.

Hidden behind an almost closed door of the study room, I strained my ears to listen. I had to because it was about me.

“You have another sister that I don’t know about?” said the girl with a British accent.

“She was away for the last three years,” he said, his voice small.

“And this informational fact just happened to have slipped your mind?” she whispered harshly.

“She was in juvie, Isabelle. Alright?” he shot back, annoyed.

“So she made a mistake.”

“You don’t know what she did.”

How much of it did you really know, Mick? You weren’t even there that night…

“What did she do? You know, I don’t care. It’s in the past. But I’m pissed off because you don’t abandon family regardless of their mistakes.”

“Isabelle, it’s more-”

“If something happened and you rather I didn’t know, that’s alright, but keeping that little piece… why?”

“Because if I say out loud, it will just make it more real,” his voice cracked.

“What will make it more real?” her voice softened.

“I couldn’t protect her,” he whispered and I had almost missed it.

“Oh, babes, no,” she said and I backed away from the door. I had heard enough. He blamed himself for what I did. Was this why he couldn’t visit me? Was it possible, that he couldn’t face me?

What have I done?