Yin & Yang

"I'm trying to ninja past her"

 

         I could see nothing, hear nothing, think nothing; but I could feel.

        I felt the water envelope me as my lungs gasped for air that wouldn't come. Waves crashed over my jerking body as I tried to gain a sense of direction. I was trying desperately to free myself from death's claws, but could not see the surface, or which way was up. All I could see was the blackness of the river as the icy water pulled me under.

        Terror seized me as I gulped in more liquid that scorched my throat and made my lungs constrict. My mouth involuntarily opened to scream for help, but was instead greeted with more destructive river water. Running out of air, I could feel my body begin to go numb from the cold, my vision started to swim, and my mind begin to slip out of conciseness, as I slipped further into the deep abyss.

        My body jolts up right as I clutch my throat, gasping for air and choking on nothing. It was a dream. A painfully real dream. I repeat those words over in my head, trying to steady my breathing while I wipe my sweating forehead witht the back of my hand.

         Once I am mildly calm again I scoot over to the edge of my bed and swing my legs over the side, deciding that there is no point in trying to fall back asleep after that. There is no way I can.

        You would think that having the same nightmare for almost two years now would make it more bearable, but no. It's still just as terrifying and heart-wrenching as it was the first time it actually happened. Glancing over at my alarm I realize, grudgingly, that its only 5:48. With a grunt I sit up from my pillowy bed and begin to pull off my sweat-slicked t-shirt. I decide to go for a jog to shake off the memories of that night. I quickly pull on a shirt and running shoes and practically race out the door, only slowing slightly as I pass his room.

        Once I'm out in the fresh air I take in a giant gulp, needing to finally breathe and get away from that suffocating house. The early morning sunlight warms my skin as the slight breeze tugs on my loose tendrils of hair. I begin a brisk jog and let my eyes wander over the streets I used to play on as a child.

        These streets used to be filled with such warm memories, but now only leave me with a dull ache in my chest. Nothing much has changed in the two years that I was gone, but I'm sure all the neighbors have gotten a lot happier since my absence. My neighborhood is small with quaint little houses lining the block. Children would play on the grass and old ladies would water their gardens while chatting with each other, it really is the picture perfect block. The only blemish being me. Imagine the "Desperate Housewives" neighborhood, but more boring, more stepford.

        The familiar surroundings just bring back all of the pain and guilt I've been trying to get away from and hopefully never come back to. But, plans change once your dead-beat uncle lands himself in jail and the cops drop you off at your mom's house. At your "home." That word is foreign to me. That house hasn't been my home for years, long before the 'incident.'

        And of course there was no welcome home party for me once I arrived, oh no. Instead, I was greeted with suspicious looks, cold attitudes, and treated as if I was on quarantine. Even though I hate to admit it, coming back to the place that houses all my good memories and seeing no trace of proof that I ever existed stung a little. No photos on display, no belongings; nothing. My mother had taken them all down and boxed them all away. But, who could blame Cynthia for wanting to rid every memory she ever had of me? Not me, that's for sure.

        My feet begin to pound the pavement harder and faster as I try to slip a mask of indifference back on my face, making my mind numb again. Something I've gotten used to the past two years.

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        I laze about after taking a shower, not doing much of anything. I start to read my old diaries and wallow in a state of embarrassment and laughter about how pathetic I used to be until the clock strikes 8:45. I begrudgingly make my way down the stairs. I was trying to avoid running into Cynthia, but alas, my luck failed me once again.

     "Annette, get down here." My mother's cold voice reaches the stairwell where I was unsuccessfully trying to ninja past her. At hearing the sharp edge in her voice and her barely contained disgust in having to say my name after all this time, I feel my patented smirk slide onto my face with ease.

        "Yes, mother dearest? What can I do for you this fine morning?" I ask, sweet sarcasm dripping from my voice with every word. I couldn't help it, it was my go to move, my defense mechanism. Cynthia narrows her brown eyes at my sarcastic response.

        "Please, Annette, let's not have a repeat of two years ago. Try not to embarass me again. If you're under my roof regard me with respect. I don't want to hear any of your sass or deal with your rebellious attitude, got it?" Accompanied with her lecture is the 'hands on the hips, I'm better than you' stance. Her words hang in the air, creating a palpable tension that thickens the air and makes it almost hard to breathe. My smirk twitches at her words, but seeing my blonde, brown-eyed mother, who looks the exact opposite of me giving me a righteous look, my heart hardens a bit more.

        With a sarcastic bow I state, "Why, of course. Wouldn't want to dissapoint you again, now would I?" And with a wink I turn on my heel and start to walk towards my freedom, but of course before I can escape, Cynthia calls out to me again.

        "You're not wearing that to school are you?" Her eyes give me an appraisal with a disgusted look on her face, as if even the thought is incredulous. I had just thrown on a a loose fitted white tank and a pair of black leggings stuffed into boots. It showed all my curves, but was stil pretty casual. I left my black hair to fall in natural waves down my back and kept my make up to a simple smokey eye that made my blue-grey eyes pop. I wasnt trying to impress anyone.

        I appraise myself and then give a little shrug as if to say, 'I look hot.' I'm not about to dress like her; some stuffy housewife with no real personality.

        Cynthia heaves a huge sigh and mumbles irritatingly, "Can't you try to make a good impression on your first day back, seeing all the people you left behind, including Adam?"

        The last part of her sentence makes my mask slip right off and my jaw drop to the hardwood floor. But, Cynthia, completely oblivious, just walks away shaking her head in disappointment. Of course she wouldn't notice my discomfort, she still has no idea what happened between us two years ago.

        Adam. The thought of having to see him again has been nagging at the back of my mind since I came back to town, but now it is pounding on my skull making it hard to think. I've been lucky in not running into him in the street or at the corner store considering we're neighbors. But, there is no way I won't run into him at our tiny school where the gossip travels like a game of telephone. I imagine his face when he hears i'm back in town -or better yet, his face when he sees me again. I can't help but wonder if he will be happy or sad or even angry.

        No, Annette. No. Who cares what he thinks? He doesn't love you anymore and you espically don't love him. He used you. He hurt you. He ruined you. Chanting these words in my head helps clear some of the fog in my brain enough so that I can grab my leather jacket, hop on my Harley, and take the familiar route to the hell hole that ruined my life. Mount View High School.

A/N: Hi guys! Please feel free to leave comments and what not! All is welcome ok. Ill try to update regularly, but with work and school it's hard. But yah! Keep reading!

P.S.- also, if i didn't make this clear; Cynthia is Annette's mom, but she calls her Cynthia most of the time!

Pic of Annette and Adam on the side