★ — It was strange being there, being back in that house. It was her room, she knew. But, no matter how many times she repeated it to herself, the words just wouldn’t make it true; it didn’t feel right. Her shoes, light steps on wood, clicked across the floor. The sound ceased whenever she stopped, leaving only the sound of her breathing to fill the space.
She frowned at that realization and, then, left. She moved on, peeking into each room she passed with mild interest. The house was quiet, empty, for a change. It was nice in a way, she was forced to admit. But, it allowed her to think.
Her fingers raked unceremoniously across the grooves in the edging of her father’s desk. She passively frowned at that, too. Her eyes scanned across a stack of papers— work, she guessed— pausing only when she they caught something unusual. There was a photo there, rather lost among his things. She didn’t make to pick it up, though. She recognized it where it was.
And so, with a huff to herself, she looked away and left his desk behind. Then, suddenly tired, she took a seat, drawing her knees up to her chin, burying her face. It seemed, in that moment, the most natural thing to do.
She could pretend, curled up like that, that she was somewhere— anywhere— else.
Life wasn’t fair, at least, that was what father said. He said it to himself every night before it was time to go to bed. He would stare at her, his once warm and welcoming eyes were cold and guarded. They contained a hint of something else, something she just couldn’t identify, but perhaps, when more years go by, then she finally would understand what exactly it was. It frightened her, the look. It made her feel unwanted, and it disturbed her when he’d murmur it to himself like a mantra. Over and over again. This routine of his reminded her of a carousel. Mommy bought her a small carousel. It sang a sweet tune and spun round and round.
The reality of the situation weighed down hard on her young and fragile mind. Something; something was terribly wrong. Tears rolled down and stained her porcelain cheeks. She knelt down on the ground and placed her head between her knees. She was scared, she wanted mommy! Where was she? She brought up a tiny hand to her chest, gripping tightly onto a ring on a silver chain.
The tears came harder, her head pounded as the splitting pain expanded. She remembered now... Daddy couldn’t look at her because she looked like Mommy.. and Mommy was... No! Her hands gripped her upper arms as she shook. Untrimmed nails breaking through skin, the sound of hyperventilation filled the dark hallway of her home. She didn’t have the tools to deal with this, and even father wouldn’t help her!
She bolted upright and ran out of the hall and into the next room, sobbing and screaming. She didn’t want to be here anymore! She didn’t want to think about any of this. Why couldn’t the past just die and be forgotten.
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