This was where I had been spending my nights since I moved up here to Forks, Washington a week ago. The kitchen was warm, and open. Always bright, and full of good memories. Nothing awful has ever happened to me in a kitchen. I’ve been doing all the cooking since I arrived. Esme was slightly peeved at first, surrendering her kitchen duties to a 17 year old girl, but she eventually gave in, seeing how much I enjoyed the tasks. And it was such a rarity to witness me enjoying anything.
So I’ve made a careful routine of spending my nights in here, baking, cooking, and doing homework. Anything but sleeping in that wretched, dark bedroom. Everyone in Phoenix called it insomnia. I’ve already had the lectures from physicians and professionals, all specifically trained and formally educated to keep my ‘well being’ their ‘top priority’. I’ve had the sleeping pills, and courses of medication meant to keep me knocked out for the customary eight hours per night. Of course, they’d never really understand. It’s not so much that I can’t sleep, but I won’t. I catch my sleep in 10 minute bouts during the day, though even then I try to fend it off. It’s difficult to do, and I spend my days in a cloudy lethargic haze, but it’s better than having the dreams. Dreams full of hitting and scratching, screaming and hiding, bruises and tears, and monsters hiding in my closet, biding their time. And those are among the more pleasant ones. The ones of my mom, Renee, were the worst by far. Her cold, limp body slung over the couch in a pool of her own blood. And her eyes…
I snapped out of that line of thinking and begin immersing myself in my English paper while waiting for my cookies to bake. It was a new recipe. I’ve been baking a new cookie every night for the last week. I’ve adopted it as my new habit. When I lived in the group home in Phoenix, I could cook up a lot of things during the night and the boys would always eat it up long before it had the chance to spoil. But Alice and Esme’s appetites couldn’t accommodate my particular level of nighttime boredom. So I settle for cookies. They always enjoy my creative recipes and names.
Thankfully, they haven’t questioned my weird late night mannerisms. They were too happy that I finally gave in and moved here with them to chance pushing me away with questions I had absolutely no desire to answer. Esme begged me to come here a year ago, when Renee died, but I wanted to spare them my dark mood and reclusive behavior, I hated to burden them. Yet here I am, I thought bitterly.
I let them think they had a kind of victory in my decision to move here from the group home in Phoenix. But really, I just couldn’t stay there anymore. There were too many people. Too many males crammed against me in such a small space. I was in a near-constant state of panic, and it was exhausting, which isn’t exactly beneficial to someone who’s trying to stay awake. I didn’t like boys, and I despised men. They terrify me after Phil. It’s irrational, I know. Not all of them are out to get me. Even if I wanted to take the chance, my mind and body had an automatic reaction that I simply couldn’t stop. My old psychologist mentioned something about defense mechanisms and anxiety attacks or what not. I didn’t care what they called it, I hated it. Never being able to get close to anyone of the opposite sex without hyperventilating and shaking in fear, even if I wanted to, was a major inconvenience in a co-ed group home. Suddenly the prospect of living with two women was too appealing. Maybe they did have some kind of victory after all.
But Forks was better. Small and quaint. I wouldn’t say I was happy here, because I’d never be happy, no matter the place or company I kept. I had seen too much. But it was a few steps closer to happiness than Phoenix was, so I couldn’t regret my decision.
DING
I jumped up, dropping my pencil; startled from the loud sound of the timer signaling the cookies were done baking. Get a Grip Bella, Jeez. I waited for them to cool before I bean decorating the little man-shaped cookies appropriately.
Once the men had their costumes complete, I produced 3 Ziplock bags and used my marker to write the name of the cookie on each white rectangle label. Gingerbread Zombies. It seemed all too fitting to the fact that I was, in fact, in a zombie state for most of the day today, as I would be tomorrow, as I have been for months.
Five hours, four cups of coffee, and two English papers later, I had breakfast made and was already dressed for school, donning my usual black hoodie and jeans, and wearing my long brown hair down. Esme had already rushed out for work, Gingerbread Zombies in hand, sending a wry smile to me regarding my newest creations.. Alice arrived to breakfast perfectly awake, as usual, and bounced in bright, shiny and bushytailed. She positively radiated refreshed, positive attitude. It made me want to vomit.
Her usual attitude was bubbly and excited. My cousin Alice was slightly shorter than me, with short, spiky black hair. We were born within a month of each other and our mothers were sisters. Still, gene pool aside, we were polar opposites. She was popular at Forks High School and could make friends with anyone. I naturally shied away from everybody. She kept up to date on all the latest fashion trends. I went out of my way to wear nothing attention grabbing. She was excited and graceful. I was introverted and clumsy. See where I’m going with this?
“Goood Moring! Mmm, Bacon and eggs! Are those Waffles? With Blueberries?!” She chirped and slid into one of the stools. Her little legs were swinging from the stool back and forth like a 17 year old toddler. “So help me God Bella, I’m going to gain so much weight while you’re here. Is there syrup? Maybe I should pass on that anyways…”
I just rolled my eyes at her and stuffed some eggs into my mouth. I loved Alice like a sister, but there was no getting a word in edgewise with her in the morning. When she looked up from her plate she stopped mid-sentence. Then she got that look that I instantly recognized as ‘Concerned Alice Face’. Here we go…
“Good grief Bella! You look terrible! Didn’t you get any sleep at all last night?” I cringed. I look terrible… Jeez, thanks, Alice for the self image boost. I simply gave a non committal shrug like I always did when she asked me that question, and kept eating. With a deep sigh and a disapproving shake of her little head, she let the matter drop.
Alice was like this often when it came to me; concerned but cautious. She was always trying to get me to open up to her so she could understand. I knew she only meddled like this because she cared, but I stayed quiet about my problems. I couldn’t explain it to her right, and she’d just get even more worried if I tried."
What are your thoughts about this FF? Do you Love it, Hate it? Let us know what you think!
~ And always remember to leave reviews on FF for your favorite stories!
No comments:
Post a Comment