A Broken Reflection (Chapter One)

The lamp flickered on the bedside table, casting light into the shadows, and bringing shadows into the light. The whole while I stared at the ceiling; finding shapes in the speckled white paint. From light to dark, the shapes changed as the light did. One moment, glittered an angel, halo and wings with a white dress. The next moment, a shrouded Satan took its place, bringing horror to my thoughts.1

It reminded me of the two suicide attempts I’d had in the past. I guess the Devil himself didn’t even want me. I turned onto my side and twisted the switch on the lamp. It wouldn’t turn off.2

One, two, three turns… four, five, and six… then I just gave up. I’d sleep with the lights on; maybe it would keep the nightmares from coming. Out in the living room I could hear the music pounding and my dad screaming to the words, on nights like these, he was utterly drunk.3

Definitely not safe to be around.4

I wasn’t going to sleep tonight, I knew that. The music was too loud, my heart was racing, and I was hyperventilating; not the best conditions for sleeping. I stretched my scarred arm down beneath my bed and dragged out a beer.5

I sat up and crossed my legs, then popped the cap and drew the bottle to my lips. I chugged it down in the three sips then three the glass bottle at the lamp. The beer shattered into a million little pieces, and then the lamp broke.6

I wasn’t sure what I should think as sparks flew out of the breaking bulb. I didn’t know what I should think, but what I did think was; “Shit, I hope one burns the fucking house down.”7

I really didn’t think it would actually happen, until the flame started to rise. I watched the flame dance it the dark room. I smelled the smoke and welcomed it. What was the point? My window was so jacked up that it wouldn’t budge even if I tried to open it, and if I went out of my room to the front, I’d have a run in with me father.8

Better safe in a burning room then sorry with a knife against my chest.9

I looked up and stared at the mirror at the opposite side of my room. My eyes were a blanched reddish-orange. The fire burned in them as well, showing just how I felt. I was upset, I was angry, I was sad, but mainly, I wanted to rip out my throat and die.10

The color showed all these things.11

It showed more than feelings; it showed a map of my life. Only I even dared to read it. From sweet, daring, loving little girl climbing the rocks outside of Hawthorne Park, to a strong, angry, prostitute in the high school hallways, to defenseless, suicidal, bitch in a burning room.12

The end.13

Not much else to look into.14

The flames had risen to the ceiling and crept onto the bed. I felt them tickling my skin. No pain, not even a little. I could hear sirens bussing outside now; a neighbor must have called the fire department. I could see a firefighter flash his way into the room. He snatched me against my will and dragged me out of the blaze of my room.15

I think I yelled at him, but if I did he didn’t hear me. Or he just didn’t care. He yanked me out of the mobile home and down the steps. My father still looked drunk, but his craziness had worn off and now anger glazed his chocolate eyes.16

I could feel the roughness and anger in his touch as he wrenched me from the firefighter. I sighed, but said nothing at all. I could feel the smoke trapped in my lungs, but I ignored it all. Nothing mattered, I’d ended up alive.17

Again.18

Why couldn’t I just die already?19

When at last the fire was put out, all that was left was a metal frame, still glowing from the heat. One of the firefighters has brought Bruce—the pit-bull—from the back and now the dog was growling at me.20

Fuck the damn dog.21

I kicked a can on the road. The big red fire truck had left without warning and I had no home. Insurance? Yeah right, we didn’t have any. I blew my ebony hair from my eyes then sneezed. Bruce launched, his claws directed at my face.22

“Bruce!” Dad hissed at the serial killer. The mutt fell to the ground, still growling. Normally Dad would have let him tear me to pieces, but not out in the middle of the road like this.23

Someone would call 9-1-1.24

I could see Dad wasn’t going to do much, so I went and sat down against the mailbox. I already knew that none of the neighbors would invite us in. Most of them knew I was trouble, with a capitol T. They also knew Dad was a drinker, and a police officer.25

I doubted the neighbors wanted the police in their home. 26

My body tensed as Bruce ran out of the charred rubble with an old stuffed bear in his jaws. Okay, I never used the bear anymore, not usually anyway, but I still didn’t want to watch Bruce tear it to pieces. I struggle to my feet and pry it from the pit-bulls teeth.27

“Fuck…” I muttered in annoyance as the bitch began to growl again. I leaped back to the mailbox and away from the beast. I stared at the toy, one button-eye was missing from the soft velvet fur and it was in need of stitching. It was burnt at the legs, but still useable. It was in my closet, so it must have been the area with least impact.28

I hugged it against my chest, half happy that I hadn’t lost the last thing I had left that my mother gave me, and half sad that I probably wouldn’t sleep indoors for a while. Even old as the bear was, it was still soft, and it still brought back memories.29

“Fuck Sarah, I thought I told you to get rid of that damn bear.” Dad was walking down the road now and giving me a hard glare for me to follow. He’d made me get rid of everything that Mom had given me after the divorce. 30

I didn’t want to follow him; I just wanted to stay here. I didn’t even know where he would go at this point. Well, the bar was one place, but he couldn’t bring a misbehaving fourteen year-old bitch with him.31

Either way, I didn’t have much of a choice. I followed him reluctantly, the teddy bear still in my grasp. Bruce was jumping back and forth and running in circles around Dad. I tried to wipe the tears from my eyes, but they wouldn’t stop.32

“Where the fuck is that friend of yours?” Alexa? Is that who he meant? Boy, Alexa was the last one I wanted to go to. She’d make me tell her exactly why I decided to burn the house down. I could imagine it now:33

Alexa: why would you burn your house down Sarah?34

Me: I was bored.35

Alexa: so you burned your house down?36

Me: pretty much.37

Alexa: what’s the real reason?38

Me: that is the real reason…39

I could imagine going on and on and one and on… we argued about that kind of stuff a lot. Mainly she tried to get me to admit that 1) I’d been drinking, 2) I’d stepped out for a smoke break, 3) I’d gone to the bathroom and had a drag on my heroin, or 4) I’d spent the night at some strangers house who paid me.40

I never admitted anything. Usual the excuse was I was bored, or tired, or upset… Alexa always forced me into depth of “who, what, when, where, why, and how?” It was just plain obnoxious.41

“Fuck Sarah! Where the hell is the damn house?” I sighed; I wasn’t going to get out of it. I clamped the bear tighter in my arms then replied, “Turn the corner and it’s the third house on the left.”42

He picked up the pace.43

“Hi Sarah…” Alexa said as she opened the door. She was rubbing her eyes and looked exhausted. She yawned then spoke again, “What is it this time?” I tended to come to her house whenever I needed to get out of the house, which was constantly in the middle of the night.44

“I burnt the house down.” Now I had her attention. She blinked a few times, stared at me, rubbed her eyes, sneezed then replied, “You need to stay here?” I nodded. She sighed.45

“Okay Squirt, come on in, have your dad put Bruce out back. I’ll tell my dad you’re here.” I thanked her then told Dad to put Bruce in the back. Alexa’s mom worked the night-shift (and a lot of the day-shift) at the hospital where she worked. She was Chief-of-Staff after all.46

Alexa welcomed me in then went to tell her dad that my family was here. He came out just as my dad did. They talked, and then Mr. Heighting announced, “Okay, Sarah, you can stay with Alexa in her room. I’ll put Teresa in their too. George, you can sleep in Teresa’s room for now—second door to the left—and, Alexa? Could you tell Nichole to come to my room?”47

Alexa’s room was not simplicity like mine. She had a couch in the corner, a computer, a shelf, an inflatable cot that she’d taken out of her closet, and a goldfish that swam in a bit tank with little decorations.48

Teri was reluctant to move to Alexa’s room at first, but at last she agreed and came. Now, we all stood in the room, trying to get the bed situation arranged. Well, that was what Teri was trying to do. I was just standing there while Alexa glared at me.49

Here came the argument.50

“Sarah?”51

I sighed.52

“I know where this is going Alexa… please don’t…” I grumbled.53

She put her hands on her hips in irritation with me then spoke again, “Why in the world would you burn your house down Sarah?” Teri’s attention snapped to me and Alexa. Perfect, now she thinks I’m an arsonist. 54

“Now? Can’t we do this later?” I hissed at my friend. She took a step toward me. She’d do that whenever she knew I was stalling, it was just the way of things with her. She was six foot six inches, so it was pretty threatening…55

But she wouldn’t hurt a fly.56

“Yes now.”57

“I was bored.”58

She glared at me, frustration in her hazel eyes. Then, she just let her guard down and shook her head, “Why can’t you just tell me Sarah?” 59

“What do you want me to say?” I tensed up. 60

“I want you to say you trust me. I want to hear the truth. I want you to admit you’re scared. I can see that you are.” She dipped her head toward the teddy bear in my arms. Whoops, I probably looked like an idiot while carrying that thing around with me.61

“Fuck, you want the damn truth? Fine.” I was really snapping at her now, “I was in my damn room, my dad was fucking drunk, and I had a beer okay? I threw the damn beer at the shit-lamp and it lit the fucking room on fire!” She chuckled.62

Why was she chuckling? I was fuming mad and she was chuckling?63

“What?” Teri’s face was flushed, she seemed surprised and upset.64

“S-Sorry, but that was funny.” I stared at her. Funny? How was any of that funny?65

“How the fuck was that funny?” she laughed even harder.66

“What’s funny is two things, 1) you can’t go even a sentence without cussing. I counted seven. 2) you weren’t even drunk, and you threw a beer at a lamp? It seems silly.” I felt a smile coming on. Okay, it was pure stupidity, but still…67

“It was flickering.” Now Teri laughed. I laughed too. I guessed I could enjoy one moment, even if it was just one. I needed to laugh.68