Six Seconds

Four

Four.

The screeching of the brakes as I try desperately to stop.

________________________________________________

Day Thirty-Two.

It had been thirty-two days since the shooting.

Thirty-two days I have had to spend without my mother or father.

Thirty-two grueling days I have spent wandering the streets.

Thirty-two days since I have as much as seen Chase Bishop.

The days since my ‘tragic misfortune’, as my aunt had called it, had been spent being oblivious to the world. I spent most of my days walking the campus of my school and the vacant streets of my neighborhood wondering why I was still alive. Wondering why this happened to me. Wondering how this could of happened. But, not once did I wonder who did the horrible deed. I pushed the thought out of my mind completely.

The days of my new life flew by like pages in the wind. My dearest Aunt Marcia came down to take care of me. Now, don’t get me wrong, she was a wonderful women. She really did take care of me. She made the most wonderful food, she cracked jokes as much as possible, and made me get out of bed everyday, even though she should have been mourning the loss of her older sister. She had a fake smile plastered on her face at all the moments of the day. I wanted to tell her it was okay not to smile all the time, it was okay to cry. But, I think that might of broke her illusion that everything was okay. And I didn’t want to be the girl that made her crack.

I woke up that morning just as I did every other morning. I got out of bed, walked over to my mirror, applied the makeup that would cover up my puffy red eyes, and stumbled down the stairs to the smell of pancakes.

“I made your favorite.” Aunt Marcia said, her smile stretching from ear to ear.

“Chocolate Chip?” I asked, but it came out more as a croak. My voice must be finally giving out on me.

“Of course.” She said and turned towards the flat top as she scooped the silver dollar pancakes onto a plate.

“So… do we have any plans today or can I go take a walk…?” I asked, trying to make my voice sound normal.

Over the past four weeks we had gone out to various locations in an attempt to make our lives seem more normal. We had ventured to the beach and plastered on our fake smiles together as we frolicked in the cold water. We had visited museums in the city, art galleries near the coast, and even a few high- class restaurants. And quite honestly, I was quite sick of plastering on that fake smile whenever I had to go out in public. I had no clue how Aunt Marcia managed to do it.

“Actually--“ She started but was interrupted by the shrill of the doorbell.

She sent me a quick smile and muttered “Be right back” as she headed towards the front door. I slowly stalked behind her, slightly curious at who would be at our home so early in the morning. I peeked around the corner just in time to see my Aunt open the door and a bubbly voice fill the room. I recognized the voice instantly. Mrs. June from across the street must be delivering our weekly treat. Ever since my ‘tragic misfortune’ Mrs. June always came over once a week to deliver us a tray of sweets. Last week she brought a tray of brownies, and before that a dozen cupcakes, all hand made. I tuned in to the conversation by the front door, taking in all the words being spoken.

“How is she?” Mrs. June asked.

“She’s…” There was a long pause. “She’s doing okay.” Aunt Marcia finally replied.