Hidden(51)

Amy



My head is throbbing. My mouth is completely dry and my throat feels raw. I can’t lift my head or open my eyes. It’s too bright. I lay there as visions of last night replay in my head. I wigged out in front of Dillon and all of his friends. They’re going to think I’m a freak. I slowly roll to my side and curl up holding my belly. I still feel sick.

I roll out of Laney’s bed and make it across the hall to the bathroom. I’m sticky with sweat, so I splash my face with cool water and rinse out my mouth. I sit hunched over on the toilet with my arms holding my stomach until the horrible pain subsides.

I shuffle out of the bathroom and start to head back to Laney’s room when I hear voices down the hall, one of them is Dillon’s. I follow the sounds to Dillon’s closed bedroom door and stand just outside listening.

“Her mother is crazy and in a looney bin, Dillon. That shit runs in the family. She needs medication just like her mom and will never be normal. I know you feel sorry for her and you feel like you have to take care of her like a lost puppy, but she’s not your responsibility. I’m sure she can get into one of those group homes for sick people like her. Your business is slowing down because you don’t have the time to care for it like you used to. She’s taking you away from your passion.”

“Come on Candice.”

“No Dillon. It’s true. She needs help that you can’t give her.”

“Listen, I have a client that’s going to be here any minute. I can’t do this right now.”

“Fine. I’ll get us some coffee. When you’re done with your client, we can talk.”

I’m standing there listening to her and I can’t even get angry. She’s right. The door opens and Candice steps out. Her hair is a mess and she’s wearing one of Dillon’s t-shirts. Her legs are bare. Tears burn in my eyes as I struggle to hold them back. Did she sleep in there with him while I was passed out in Laney’s room? Are they back together? Is he thinking of a way to get rid of me right now?

Candice grabs my elbow and shoves me back into Laney’s room and shuts the door. I can’t speak. I’m hurting so bad. “You’re not good for him Amy. He’s a good guy and he feels sorry for you, but you’re not his responsibility. Stop trying to play house with him. You know deep down that you are not okay. You’re sick like your mother and you need help. Do you really want Dillon to have to deal with your freak-outs? His business is suffering. You’ll ruin his life.”

I stare at her. Words don’t come. She shakes her head at me as if to say I’m not worth her time, then leaves the room and closes the door behind her. What was I thinking? That I would just get over eighteen years of hell and all of a sudden ride off into the sunset with Dillon. How could I ever make him happy? I grab a bag from Laney’s closet and shove my purse, my journal and a jacket inside and make my way out of the house. I know Candice sees me as she stands in the kitchen with her cup of coffee. I don’t look back, I just keep walking.

It’s early in the morning and it’s already hot. The air is damp and humid. My body feels clammy and my clothes start to cling to me. I think I’m dehydrated. I throw up several times on the trail as I make my way to the elm. I’m not only physically sick, but mentally drained. I don’t belong here. I don’t know where I belong. I got caught up in fiction books and dreams of having someone to share a normal life with, but I’m broken. I’m sick like my mother.

I stand at the break in the fence. I never wanted to be back on that side of the fence, but I don’t know where else to go. I wipe my tears from my cheeks and crawl through the break in the fence and then collapse beneath the elm. I stare up into the branches, watching them move with the direction of the wind, listening to the whistling sound as it travels through branches, spinning the leaves. Sobs wrack through my body as I wrap my arms around myself. I have no one. I have nothing.

I rub at my eyes, trying to soothe the burning and then I pull my journal from my bag and begin to write everything I feel. My journal has always been my friend. I tell it everything and it keeps my secrets.

As I write, dark storm clouds start to hover, darkening the pages of my journal. I remember the officer telling me that the house will remain vacant for some time until the owner’s estate is settled, and that I am free to collect my belongings. I don’t really have any belongings, but at least I’ll stay dry until the storm passes and I decide what the hell I’m going to do.

I grab my bag and hike back to the house. It’s so much darker on this side of the fence. The fence and the tall trees always kept the light out. A cool breeze whips through the air, causing the hair on my arms to stand straight up. My body shivers as a feeling of dread spreads through me. This was my prison. Where am I going to go from here?