by Livvy Aarons
Copyright © 2014 by Livvy Aarons
All rights reserved. No part of this book shall be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without prior written permission from the author. The author assumes no liability assumed for damages resulting from the use of the information contained herein. Please respect the hard work of the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual or fictional events, locations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Author’s Note
This book does have some content that may disturb some readers. Such topics may include suicide, violence, drug use and sexual situations of the consenting and non-consenting type. I do not make light of suicide in any way; it is a very serious topic. I sincerely plead that if anyone is struggling with such feelings of suicide or depression that they find help whether it be friend, foe or family. There was a time that I too battled with the same thoughts but thanks to my daughter and writing, I felt I finally had a purpose in my life. Please remember that you are never alone in this world, there are people who care and want to help you.
~Livvy~
* * * *
To my daughter, You are my sunshine that chased the clouds away.
“Through me you pass into the city of woe:
Through me you pass into eternal pain:
Through me among the people lost for aye.
Justice the founder of my fabric mov'd:
To rear me was the task of power divine,
Supremest wisdom, and primeval love.
Before me things create were none, save things
Eternal, and eternal I endure.
All hope abandon ye who enter here.
Such characters in colour dim I mark'd
Over a portal's lofty arch inscrib'd:
Whereat I thus: Master, these words import.”
The Divine Comedy
Dante Alighieri
Prologue:
Deadly Memories
Death is but a state of nothingness, a vacuum of all the hate that has consumed the world, the constant empty black hole that never ends. There are some people who can define their whole life with those exact same words; I am one of those fortunate fools. No—I cannot say that I greet death with open arms. When you look at death in the face, it makes it even harder, lonelier and even more real. It is the dark void that only the unconscious state can bring that holds the appeal. Sleep only harbors the shadows that haunt my existence; to call them nightmares would be like calling a sunset pretty or breathing essential. At least they are always the same, never faltering in the predictable outcome of watching someone I love die. The agonizing memories of my mother are as if someone has poured acid on a tasty bowl ice cream then forced me to eat it. I can’t believe that it has been ten years since her death. Her absence has only made my life even more confusing and frustrating… so very frustrating. I will never understand why she had to leave me, why she left me alone.
It is when I can start to feel the stinging memories rush into my head that I question if I will repeat history or burn the hand God dealt me.
The play switch has flipped and I cannot stop the never-ending nightmare. The outline of her face is becoming clearer as I tune into my own personal hell.
“McKenna.” Her voice startled me and in an instant, I am eight years old once again.
“Yes momma?”
“Sweetie, mommy is going to take a hot bath. I need you go downstairs and play with you brother?” Despite the thin smile she gave, something was bothering her.
Without questioning her I headed towards the door. Before I could reach the knob, she grabbed me and put her arms around me, very tightly. Turning back around to face her, I saw the fear in her eyes burning brightly. Feverishly she begin speak, “I want you to know—you must know that I love you no matter what. You and Ben are my only reasons that I have lasted this long. I just wish that I could do more for you, more for your brother.” She began to search my eyes for something, something she did not find. “Listen McKenna, you cannot let people know your weakness, show no fear and never let them make you think that you are not special. Trust me when I tell you that you are more special than anyone will ever know. Promise mommy that you will always listen to your heart—you cannot trust your mind baby. The mind is the devil’s playground and he will use your doubts to destroy you. Do you promise me that you’ll be strong?
“Of course mommy; I promise.” Reluctantly went downstairs to entertain my brother. I didn’t want to leave her alone but if I questioned her I would just get in trouble.
I found Ben putting together a puzzle in the kitchen. He was five at the time and he loved puzzles, especially ones with lots of color in them. Naively I joined my brother with his puzzle thinking very little about the strange behavior of my mother. After a couple puzzles Ben was getting hungry cueing me to look at the clock. It was getting late; I knew that my father would be home soon and I found myself worried about what the scene upstairs. Around the time worry was overcome by my curiosity, I had already started up the stairs. The sound of my father coming through the door stopped me in my tracks. I retreated down the stairs to welcome him home. Causally he sat down his briefcase, loosened his tie then put his key on the small table inside the door. My father smiled when he found my brother on the floor coloring.
Then he looked at me and asked, “Where’s your mother?”
Worry invaded my thoughts again, “She is upstairs taking a bath; she has been in there a long time.” My father’s face went pale and pained. He darted up the stairs slamming the bathroom door behind him. That’s when the screams of horror filled my ears... a sound that I will never escape.
The police and paramedics arrived a short time later. The paramedics came in first; they busted through the door and ran up the stairs. The police followed in afterward, keeping me and my brother away from the action upstairs and started to ask me some questions. I told them what my mother had said and that we had been downstairs since. Ben whined repeatedly about wanting our mother; the police only told us was that our mom was sick and we needed to wait for our father to come talk to us. I knew that this was bad if the police would not tell us anything. I may have been young but if TV had taught me anything it was that police were one shade lighter than gray. The uncomfortable tension in the room was eating away at my brother; his whining turned to tearful demands. I felt numb, almost empty sitting on the couch facing the officers. Ben needed me to comfort him, tell him everything was going to be all right but I was paralyzed. My mind seemed to drift in and out at this point barely noticing that some time had passed until Ben squeezed my hand bringing me to a state of consciousness. Immediately the hushed whispers faded and all I heard was the sound of a choking sob. It was my father stomping heavily on the stairs taking them one by one, almost as if he hurt to move. Once he reached the bottom of the stairs, his glazed eyes focused towards us on the couch. With tears streaming down his face he began to tremble and cry even louder. There was so much pain in my father’s eyes; it spoke volumes of how bad things really were. The roomful of police only watched in silence as my father sank to his knees and covered his face with hands.
My brother didn’t wait for him to get up; he climbed off the couch then walked over to my father. “Daddy it’s okay. The policeman said that mommy is sick.” The innocence of his voice pierced through the sobbing, my father’s response was a lung-squeezing hug.
This scene baffled me, no one was doing anything, say anything and I wanted to know what was exactly happening. Was my mom okay? Why haven’t the paramedics
brought her down to go to the hospital? The curious anger was getting the best of me; I had to go upstairs to see for myself. Looking around the room, I was in luck that no one was paying me any attention. Quickly before anyone could see what my intentions were, I ran up the stairs then locked the bathroom door behind me. I heard the police storm up the stairs after me, but I could barely hear their banging or their demands that I open the door. There was absolutely nothing could break my focus off my mother.
There she was lifeless, snatched from the very essence of being alive.
The once vivacious body of my mother was limp, slouched over in the tub with her head was thrown backwards in an unnatural way. I walked closer, seeing the sickly pale color of her skin doused with splashes of bright red and my fuzzy brain barely registered the sound of my shoes squeaking; the tile floor had a thin glazing of water. I shrugged off the irritating noise, continuing until I reached the side of the tub and I could see that she had cut herself at her wrists, hips and neck. The cuts were deep, open and angry. The smell was awful in the tiny bathroom and I had to struggle with swallowing back the bile that was inching it way up my throat. My mother had always been beautiful with long blonde hair, pale blue eyes and creamy peach colored skin. Her heart shaped lips often exaggerated her wide set eyes but not now. I did not want to see her this way, all bloodied and mangled. Hesitantly I touched her swollen hand; it was cold and clammy. I shut my eyes at the nauseating wave of agony that hit me hard in the gut; consuming my entire body with its burning torment that left only ashes behind in it’s wake.
Tearfully I pulled her hand towards my chest, “Why momma did you do this...why did you leave me here? I-I need you. No one understands me like you do.” The banging at the door became louder and I knew my time with her was ending. Leaning over, I squeezed my eyes shut then gently kissed her forehead. As I pulled away I whispered, “Momma I love you.”
Everything around me froze in place. The clock stopped ticking, the leaky faucet stopped dripping and the air grew stale. I blew out a shuddering breath that turned to an icy mist as the temperature in the bathroom dropped several degrees.
Almost when the fear overtook my consciousness an eerie voice whispered, “This is so touching—cliché but very touching. I can promise you that you will see her again.” The voice was close, sounding as if it was right beside me. The voice started snickering playfully but the thick accent made it sound sinister. I wanted to keep my eyes shut hoping it was all a mind trick but I knew that it was not. Somehow, I forced them open with last flicker of bravery I possessed, only to have it vanish completely when I saw the owner of that voice. Nothing could have prepared to see what was standing in front of me.
The creature was about six foot five with dark sparse hair, black eyes and a wicked smile. He looked like a man in an all black suit but the eyes gave him away. No man had soulless eyes like this; he was evil. I could not help staring at him and with every second that passed I could feel my eyes swell with fear. He seemed to sense that I was taking in his appearance, not bothering to hide a single terrifying detail.
With a smirk on his face he hissed, “You have your mother’s talented eyes. It is sad however your mother could not play by the rules of the game so much to my personal regret, she shall be punished. I do hope your taste for life will be stronger, for I do not relish in reaping the young ones. Yet despite my tastes, I do not have the final say in these things. You see, even death has rules; so it would be better for everyone if you played your part. If not then I shall meet you again much sooner than you think.” That must have been my dismissal since the monster man did not say another word to me. Instead, he silently knelt down beside her and closed his black eyes.
I slinked away until I hit the wall, watching in horror as two massive black wings coming from his back appeared then stretched out encasing him and my mother. When the creature’s eyes opened, they were filled with fury as they turned towards me then he winked wickedly. I gasped, pushing myself harder against the wall feeling desperate to get away. Unable to retreat any further, I squeezed my eyes shut. After a few minutes I finally gathered enough courage to see if the monster was still there; to my relief he was gone just as quickly as he came. My mother’s body was still a mangled mess but there was something missing. Crawling slowly towards her still body I could see that the glow from her eyes was completely gone; leaving behind a cold empty stare. All I could do now is blame my cowardly self; I did nothing but gawk at the beast, shriveling to the nothing I am. Why did I not scream, yell or fight for my mother? My head began to swim from the stress of what could have been. The heavy tears were rolling down my cheeks as I climbed into the tub; longing to feel my mother’s loving embrace. I would never feel her warmth—her love ever again.
When the banging at the door had stopped for a final time, it was only a matter of seconds before my father had the police kicked the door in. The memories are still fresh in my mind and replay every time I shut my eyes.
They haunt my soul, pushing it further into torment, leaving my heart to rot in total darkness.
Chapter 1
Me, Myself and a Mustang
“Wake up sleeping beauty!” shouted my dad.
My consciousness came in a crash, jolting me awake. I scrambled to take in my surroundings; we were in my dad’s Jeep Liberty driving down a mountainous road, it was bright outside. Finding that everything was where it should be. I felt some relief in knowing that my dream was over, at least until sleep took over again, and relaxed.
I blew out a little puff, “Geez, not so loud. Besides what makes it so great? We have been traveling for hours.” I stretched then turned around to see Ben was playing with his video game. Probably some fighting game, which was as lame as he was but I’ll leave it alone for a while. No one wants to ride with him when he asks bunch of questions, so a quiet Ben is a good day.
Sitting upright, my bladder squealed its discomfort. “How much longer until we see civilization? I really need to make a pit stop.”
“Well we should almost be there. This map is not the best in the world but I think I’ve done an okay job.”
I rolled my eyes thinking that I really should have insisted that my father buy a Garmin. He would have said a definite no to the idea, seeing it as a weakness as a man. My father was too proud to admit that he was lost most of the time. Men with their stupid pride; no wonder the divorce rate was so high. Another pang coming from my bladder reminded me of the current situation. “I really, really need to make a stop somewhere dad. It would be awful for all parties involved if I pee on myself.” What in hell was I thinking drinking all that coffee at breakfast?
“We passed the Virginia line about an hour ago. So maybe a gas station is close.” Ben may have chimed in but his eyes never wavered from his video game.
“Great, a germ ridden toilet is just what I need. Not to mention these mountain people are weirdoes. They probably have no idea what toilet paper is. I can imagine they use leaves, not Charmin.”
“No worries sis—they’ll never be weirder than you.”
I cut my eyes at him, wanting to smack the smug smile on his face. Ben sealed his fate when he stuck out his tongue. Maliciously I said, “Listen to me you little brat, if you only knew what . . .” I stopped midsentence and thought about the repercussions of what I could say to him. Quickly I recovered my senses, “At least I wasn’t the mistake baby.”
Ben sank back into his seat, sulking with defeat. With sweet victory in the air I left Ben alone for the moment and stared out the window. I hated leaving Savannah but I had to admit the mountains were very pretty. My dad had been working on this promotion at the power company for some time, so the promotion was going to happen it was just a matter of when. At the time I did not realize that with a promotion came the imposition of moving; a move that would bring us from Savannah, Georgia to Harper, Virginia. From what I understand Harper barely has nineteen hundred citizens, most of which work at the power plant, the police or at the community col
lege. There are no movie theaters, no shopping malls and nothing to make my next two years pass by any quicker. This bit the big one. I let out a frustrated sigh, which of course signaled my father to pay too much attention for nothing.
“Harper will not be that bad; at least the credits you get at the community college will transfer and who knows this may be a great opportunity to start over. You should be thankful that they accepted your GED.” My father’s chipper attitude was rather annoying; I just kept my focus on the nothingness to look forward to having. “McKenna I do have a surprise for you when we get there.”
He was still trying so I gave him a fake smile and said the first thing that popped in my head. “Great dad, I lose my entire life and you get me what…a pony?”
My father gave me the biggest grin he could while driving then said, “Oh no, not a pony--the Pony.”
I was trying very hard to read between the lines then it finally clicked. “Oh my God; you didn’t!” I squealed, clapping my hands in excitement. The dream car that I have been waiting for my mustang was finally here. However this was not just any Mustang, it was a 1967 Ford Mustang GT. I could just see the classic lines of speed, leather seats, red glossy paint and of course the rumble of the engine. Even in my daydreaming, I could feel the vibration in my pretend steering wheel. I wish my mother were here to see me happy for once; she did not get to see me smile very often in my childhood.
“Look McKenna, there’s our new home.” My father pointed out his window.
I could see the small town in the valley nestled between the mountains. Remote would be an understatement. Ordering things off the internet may be an option but who knew if UPS came out this far. It was the middle of September and the leaves were already changing with the gold, oranges, and reds. The sun was setting, intensifying the bold colors; it was picturesque. After a few more twists on the country road we entered the small town, passing a wooden sign with “Harper” craved into it. The first noticeable building was a big brick one with a flag in front, the metal etching above the door read City Hall. Next, we passed the fire and police station; the hospital was across the street in a small white two-story building. We continued passing more tiny shops in the square and a good size diner. The diner had plenty of cars in the parking lot. This was beginning to feel like I went back a few decades in time. My father turned down a couple side streets then stopped in front of a small white bungalow-style house. It was a two-story house with a big porch and a large green door. You could definitely tell that it was older looking but it did look cozy. I got out of the car, stretched then glanced towards the separate garage; I nearly wanted to rip the door open. My heart was racing as the garage door went up but my excitement was vain.
