An Open Sky

Chapter Nine ~Aidan~

               I woke with a jolt. It was still dark. My eyes adjusted to the scene surrounding me. I scanned the trees. There was nothing that really stood out as alarming. I wondered what had made me wake up. Then I felt it. Rain. Gosh, when doesn’t it rain in this place? I thought angrily. I was kind of hoping it wouldn’t rain too much. Wool is absorbent, and I happened to be wrapped in it. I could always go up to Alexa’s house. “Hey, Alexa. Don’t ask how I know your name. Can I sleep in your house tonight? I live in the woods and it’s raining. No, don’t close the door! I’m not a stalker! I swear!” I almost laughed at my brain’s idea of her reaction, how her eyebrows would knit together as she’d slam the door.  

                I covered my face in my blankets and prayed that I was just imagining the rain getting harder. The warm wool blankets were enough to protect me and keep me warm in this brutal, wet night. I flipped back onto my stomach and angled my face under the covers so I could still get air. I quickly slipped back into unconsciousness.

                “Aidan, come here. Didn’t you do these dishes?” My mother was calling me. I shivered, her voice chilling me like the rain I faintly remembered from my conscious life.

                I walked through the door. “Sorry,” I mumbled, my hands sliding onto the cool surface of a plate.

                “When I tell you to do something, do it.” She turned to the cabinet, the place where she’d always go for comfort after an uncomfortable situation.

                The soft vanilla scent of dish soap filled the kitchen, battling for control with the whiskey fumes. “Where’s dad? He’s normally home by now.” I asked the question. I could’ve said anything, but I asked the question. I asked the one question that would change my life.

                She stiffened, the bottle emptying its contents onto the floor. “He’s not coming home.” Her bloodshot eyes stayed locked on me as I laid a plate on top of some identical ones in the cupboard.

                The doctors had released him a few weeks ago; there was no more they could do. He wanted to die strong, alone. And he did just that.

                I escaped into the cell I called my room. My hands ran over the scars crafted into my body, into my back. I’d never see him again. I’d wished for it for so long. The whole time he was in the hospital, the four months it had kept him locked there, I didn’t see him once. I didn’t want to. I was so hurt with him, so destroyed, so weak, so worthless. But I was lost without him.

I glanced over my bedroom walls, out the window at the green grass below me. I didn’t know how long it would last without him. I didn’t know how long mom could support her habit. I didn’t know where I’d go. A tear formed on my cheeks as my eyes scanned the yard that I’d grown up playing on, the room I’d grown up in.

I opened my eyes, watching the rain soak into the dirt and run down the bark of the trees. I watched it drip off of the leaves onto my skin.

I rolled onto my back, tucking my arms behind my head. I breathed in the scent of the trees to help remove the constant pungent smell of liquor. It was always with me. She was always with me. I knew I had to go back, but I couldn’t.

There was no way I could face her.