That dream.

    That dream haunts me whenever I wake. Whenever I sleep. Whenever I breathe.  

    I still remember everything. The fire, the bodies, the sounds, those soft eyes that stared into my soul. No matter what I did, they still haunted me. 

    I try to erase them, try to forget about them, but, even when there might be the slightest chance that they will disappear, they still find a way back to me. I hate it, but that’s how my life is now. I constantly have to put on a fake face whenever I'm in public or with people. I don’t want them knowing about what’s going on inside. If they do, the questions start happening and they start treating me different. It’s happened before, and I don’t want it to happen again. 

    My mom put me in therapy when I was ten. She thought it was the best option because she and my dad didn’t know how to help me.  She works with one of her close friends in the whole therapist compartment, so it wasn’t that hard to find me a therapist to go to every Friday. 

    I don’t mind it, going to therapy sessions, but I feel like they’re useless. No matter what they try to do, or how hard they try to do it, the memories always find a way back to me. They told me it was natural and normal for these things to happen and it was a matter of healing that needed to happen if I wanted them to go away. 

    Those eyes though, those soft eyes that seemed to stare into my soul, offering an escape from a cruel world and into a paradise. I remember them, just like I remember everything else. I wish I can see those eyes again. I wish he could save me from my pain just like he saved me before. Take me away, offer me a new life with just me and him. It’s a fantasy. A fantasy I longed for, but know I will never have it. I never stop wishing though. 

    Looking in the mirror is always the hard part. I do it every morning to get ready, but it’s not always the best moment. Sometimes I see a normal teenage girl who just turned seventeen, and sometimes I see someone who is hurt inside and lives with the demons in her head and the monsters under her bed. Sometimes, I don’t see anything at all. I prefer not to see anything. 

    I looked at the time on my phone that was sitting on my bathroom counter. 6:29 A.M. School starts at 8:15. Time is good. I always wake up early so I don’t have to dream. It helps me keep my posture during the day. I grab my brush from the mug my little sister Kenzie made for me on my birthday, and started to brush my hair. My hair was nappy today. Sometimes I think about cutting it off, but the thought of no hair always scares me out of it. 

    I go over to my shower and turn the nob, cold water shot from the little holes. A shower would be nice right now. While getting in, I heard my mom yelling up the stairs, “Flamina, are you up!”

    She must have heard the shower turn on. She’s always up before me, but my dad sleeps in. Today is his day off. I figured he’d still be asleep. 

    After my what felt like an hour long shower, I dried myself off, put some clothes on, brushed long brown wavy hair, put it into a pony tail,  added a touch of perfume to me, and walked out the bathroom. Today’s choice of clothes consisted of a tannish hoodie with a little sunflower on the top right, and was cut off at the beginning of my stomach. A black little crop-top underneath, for the sake of my dad, black jeans with holes in them, supported by my black high top converse. 

    I went back into my room, put on my diamond stud earrings, my rosemary, my charm bracelets with little flowers on it, and sat down on my bed. All of this to hide what really lays underneath. If I dress like a little flower and sunshine, they have no reason to ask questions. They have no reason to think anything other than I'm just your average teenage girl.  I’ve been doing this for three years and three months. That’s how long I've faked.

    I turned my phone one, and dove into what was new in the world. Politicians, murders, new trends, etc. It was kind of boring today.

    I heard a knock on my door, followed by my mom entering the room. She had on her nurse outfit, and her hair was pulled back into a bun. If it wasn’t for the little wrinkles in her face, she would look like she turned 20 and never aged from there. 

   “Mornin.” She said. 

    She walked over to my bed and sat down next to me. 

   “Morning.” I reply. 

   “I'm going to be coming late today, so I made some food for you and your dad tonight. Just make sure your dad doesn't eat it all. I don’t want him getting fatter than he already is.”

    I smiled at that. My mom and dad are always at each other, but in a playful way. Never a serious manner when it comes to those little jokes. 

   “I’ll try. You know how he is with his food.” 

    My dad isn’t actually fat, he’s pretty fit for his age, but my mom likes to joke at him being fat. Why, I don’t know.

   “How are you feeling today?” She asks. 

   “Im alright.” 

    She looked at me with her intense eyes. 

   “Are you still having those dreams?” 

    I nod my head. 

   “It feels like they get worse.”

   She pulled me in and put her hand over my head.

   “If you ever need anything, just give me or your dad a holler.” 

   “Ok.” I say. 

   “Alright, I’ll see you then.” She leaned over and kissed my forehead. Then she left the room. After a few minutes, I heard her car pull out of the driveway. After an hour of sitting on my bed just scrolling around, I look at the time, 7:30. Time to wake Kenzie up for school. Part of my morning routine.

    I get up from my bed to and see the little white stuffed bunny, sitting on my dresser. It was the bunny he gave me. The boy with the eyes. When he saw me crying, he gave me his bunny and told me it will make me feel better. Like nothing bad will ever happen. Another fantasy. 

    I make my way down to the edge of the hall, where Kenzie’s room is. Her little “Stay Out” sign hangs from her door covered in sparkles. As I opened the door, I hit something blocking it, a thump along with a wine. Our Bernice Mountain dog, cookie shuffled out of the way. 

    His name may sound kind of girly, but Kenzie picked it thinking he was a girl. Cookie yawned, and moved out of the way. 

   “Hey boy,.” I said, while ruffling his fur. His tail, wacking back and forth against the door. 

    I walk over to Kenzie’s bed and slightly shake her.
  “Hey, time to get up.”

    She rolls over all sleepily and moans.

   “One more minute.” 

    I shake her even more. 

   “No, no more minutes, if you don’t get up now im going to have to eat all the cookies I made.” 

    She perked up, sitting up straight as if she never fell asleep. 

   “Cookies?” She asked. 

   “Yep, tasty little cookies that I made in my magical oven with the president of the United States.” 

    Her face went down into a frown. 

   “Your mean.” She pouts. 

   “I’ll get even meaner if you don’t get out of bed. I want to see your bed made, teeth brushed, hair done, fully dressed, and downstairs in one minute.”

   “But that’s impossible.” She wines. 

   “Nothing is impossible if you put your mind to it.” I say sarcastically. I don’t really expect her do everything in one minute, but it get’s her up and moving. 

   “Let’s go.” 

   “Fine.” She says. 

    I get up from her bed and make my way downstairs. As I hit the stairs, my dad walks out of his room scratching his head. 

   “Mornin flamingo”

    Flamingo. The nickname my dad gave me when my mom chose my name. Sometimes, it’s kind of annoying, but other times, I don’t mind it. 

   “Morning dad.” I reply. 

   “Is Ken up?” He asks. 

   “Just got her up.” 

   I hit the bottom of the stairs with my dad right behind me. 

   “Mom said she left some food in the fridge for dinner since she was going to be late coming home.” 

    My dad rubbed his stomach. “That’s a score. I love your mom’s cooking.” 

   “But she also said not to eat it all. She doesn't want you getting fat.” 

    My dad looked appalled. “Does this look fat to you.” He started flexing his muscles as to prove the point. 

   “That’s what mom said, and what mom says..” 

   “Is the truth.” He finished. “God bless that woman.” 

    My dad sat himself down at the kitchen counter, grabbing a peach from the fruit bowel. 

   “So, how’s school going. You getting good grades?” 

    I sat down next to him. 

   “It’s alright. I’m passing my classes so that’s good I guess.” 

   “You know, if you don’t want to be in that school, I can talk to your mom about switching. I know you don’t like it there.” 

    That’s right. I don’t like the school I'm in. I’ve been in this school for just about a year, and it sucks. I don’t have many friends and there are always so many fights there. I mean, I'm not surprised though. This neighborhood is pretty crime related. Not by a lot, but there is still the occasional kidnappings, murders, gang violence. People thinking they are all that and a bag of chips. I mean seriously, if people want to fight, why can’t they do it outside of school, where nobody can stop them. Then they can go at it on each other instead of being stopped by the security officers or that one police officer that roams around our school. 

   “I’ll think about it. It’s not like I'm going to die if I go to that school.” 

   “I don’t know, people always surprise me. But, if someone ever lays a hand on you, you kick them in the balls, call me, and wait for me to kick them in the balls.”

    I lean over and lay my head on his shoulder.

   “I know dad.” 

    Kenzie came storming down the stairs fully dressed but her hair still a mess. 

   “Kenzie, I thought I told you to do your hair.” I barked.

   “Why can’t you do it?” She asks whining. 

   “Because, you need to learn how to do your own hair.” My dad says.

   “Pleeeeease.” She begs, giving me her little puppy eyes. 

    I swear they're like a curse, because every time she does it, I always comply. 

   “Alright, come here you little devil.”

   Kenzie runs over and stands in front of me, her back facing my direction. I grab her brush from her hand, and start to brush her hair with gentle little strokes. Her hair isn’t as messy as mine was so it was pretty easy to put it in a braid. 

   “Thank you.” She says as she skips over to the table. 

   “Can I have some cereal?” She asks. 

   My dad got up and went to to the pantry, opening the door, “You want some cereal?” He asks me. 

   “No, I'm not hungry.” I reply. 

    After my dad and Kenzie ate their cereal and devoured their glass of orange juice, it was 8:00. 

   “Are you ready?” He asks me as he grabs his car keys. 

    I grab my backpack and head to the door.

   “Now what do we always say…” He does his best Jack Sparrow imitation, “Take what you can…” 

    Kenzie finished for him. “And give nothing back!”