Page 2 of Drawn To You

I was that girl that sat in the back of the class trying to blend in with the wall so as not to be seen. Some days I really did feel invisible.

At the end of the school year, Amanda told me that her family was moving back to Iowa. My only friend was leaving and I would really be on my own next year and I was completely numb to it all.

Three

Lights Off

Abigail

It’s 2:30 am and I am so tired, but I just can’t sleep with all these lights on again. Out of pure frustration I rolled off the couch, my mind made up, I decided to take a chance and I shut off the lights before laying back down.

I thought that now I would finally be able to get some sleep. But as soon as I heard the frantic footsteps running down the hallway I knew I had just made a terrible mistake and I was filled with dread, fear completely overwhelming me.

“They are in the house!” my Uncle Dean frantically screamed as he ran into the kitchen. I could hear him panting and screeching as he passed and I flinched, trying to suppress the terrible feelings welling up inside of me.

Then I could hear as he slammed open a drawer and the sound of metal clanking against metal had the hairs on the back of my neck standing straight up and I knew with a certainty that he had gone straight for the butcher knife and he was going to come for me if I didn’t do something fast.

When I saw him coming toward me I jumped up to a standing position on the couch and ran to the corner with my hands up in the air and I pleaded with him. Praying I’d be able to get through to him fast. “Uncle Dean, it’s just me! It’s Abigail, Uncle Dean. I’m the one who turned off the lights. I’m sorry!” “It’s just me, it’s just me!” I kept shouting, pleading with him to snap out of it.

For a split second, I thought this was it and I was terrified. But in the next instant, I watched as realization set in and he snapped back to reality. He started to shake and he lowered the knife. He didn’t say anything to me as he turned around and switched on the lights. But I could see the panic and the torment twisting his face as he raked his trembling fingers through his hair and tried to calm down.

I heard him mumble an apology as he pulled out a chair at the kitchen table and lit a cigarette. He sat there chain-smoking and battling his demons for what seemed like hours while I lay on the couch trying to act like I was sleeping and that I wasn’t completely terrified of him. I still felt that nearly uncontrollable urge to run, to hide, and I couldn’t control the way I flinched each time I heard him move in the kitchen.

I should have known better than to try and turn the lights off. I should have known it would trigger his paranoid schizophrenia. I’m lucky I was able to get through to him tonight. The last time something like this had happened we were not able to get through to him and everyone had to flee to the neighbor’s house and call 911.

That night he had been convinced that we were not his family and that we were some sort of clones who replaced his family. He had come after everyone with a carving fork. Luckily everyone was able to escape with only minor injuries.

He was placed in a mental hospital for a time but eventually came back home. When he is himself he is a very kind but obviously tortured man. He never leaves the house or even goes outside. He just paces the house chain-smoking and drinking coffee. Making the trip from his room to the kitchen at least once every hour.

Between him and my grandma getting up to smoke and my Uncle Derick coming home from the bar at all hours with his rowdy friends and picking on me for kicks, I hardly got any sleep. I was the only one in the house that didn’t have my own room to escape to, so I was at their mercy twenty-four-seven.

I had to keep my guard up at all times and tread very carefully, so I didn’t land in hot water with one of them. Things could get ugly fast, and I had nowhere to run. Reading was my only escape and I couldn’t exactly hide between the pages of a book. I should have known better than to try and turn off the lights. I should have known what would happen. After that night, I never tried to turn the lights off again.

* * *

The next morning I was still on edge. I needed to get out of the house for a while so I decided to walk to the Mall across the street from our neighborhood and go to my favorite book store for a bit and see if I could find a new book to pass the time.

Several hours later I was on my way home with not one but three new books. When I walked up to the house my stomach dropped when I saw the tan Chevy Suburban parked on the street.

My parents were there. This should be unpleasant, I thought to myself as anxiety knotted my stomach. As I walked into the house I could see my mom sitting at the kitchen table. “Hey sweety,” she said and stood to give me a hug and I couldn’t help but tense up. I can’t stand being touched by anyone.

I can see she noticed me flinching and the flash of hurt in her eyes makes me feel like utter crap inside. But I can’t help it. I don’t know why I am like this but I am. I shrug her off and step away. “How are you guys?” I asked. “We’ve been good. Your sisters are out for summer break now and your brother starts preschool next year.”

I can hear my siblings laughing and playing in the backyard. “Where’s Dad?” I ask, dreading the moment I have to face him. “He’s in the backyard with your Grandpa working on the Merc,” she says and pauses before going on. “Honey, we have some news. Your Dad accepted a new job as Office Manager at an apartment complex down here. We are going to be moving close by and we want you to come home with us.”

I start shaking my head no. “I don’t want to. I told you I was done. I’m tired of all the fighting and he doesn’t even give a crap if I’m there anyway. I’d rather stay here.” I can see my Mom is hurt by this but I can’t go back with them. I am still too angry. I know I am being stubborn and that being here at my grandparent’s house is no walk in the park but I can barely tolerate being in the same room as my parents as it is. I am so mad at both of them. Especially my Dad.

My parents were sixteen when they had me. So I grew up mostly here at my Grandparent’s house. For the first four years of my life I barely even knew my father because he was always out running around partying and up to no good. So I’ve always been told.

I remember once when I was four years old going with my mom and my other grandma, (my dad’s mom) to pick him up from jail. I hadn’t seen him in over a year and I was so excited we were getting my Daddy.

But when we got there, I remember he was bending over to put his boots on right as we were walking up. Then he looked up and smiled at me, and I felt all the excitement I had previously been feeling drain away and be replaced by fear because he was a complete stranger.

It had taken a few weeks for me to warm up to him again. But eventually, I did and from that time on my Dad had stuck around and eventually moved us out of my Grandparent’s house. I had idolized my Dad. I thought he was the strongest, most talented person in the whole world when I was younger.

Sure, he had a temper and could be scary when he was angry. But he worked hard and provided for us and tried to do the best he could for us.

So when he started doing drugs again and the fighting between my parents started all over again. I was devastated. It hurt me beyond words to even look at him so crushing was my disappointment. I had been awakened to the fact that my parents were flawed human beings who did not know all and the ground beneath my feet seemed to disappear.