Chapter 6 by Fathiah Zarafi

That night, no matter how many pills I swallowed, sleep refused to claim my consciousness. Flashes of Mary Anne's conversation and Mr. Charles advice ran through my mind, leaving my state vulnerable and terrified. Questions like whom was Mary Anne talking to and why was she addressing Mr. Charles in that manner, like he was an enemy kept repeating in my head in an endless loop. I curled up in a fetal position when I felt the familiar sense of dread creeping up into me. As much as I tried to stop the panic, my breath came in short pants as my body trembled in fear. I felt so alone, so frighten without anybody to protect me, like father usually did. The thought of him brought anguish as it added up to my panic. Fat tears rolled down my cheeks as I willed myself to calm down.

I decided to stop the self-torturing of over thinking so I threw the duvet off of me, snatched the pack of cigarettes and quietly sneaked out the back door. The spark from the lighter brightened the pitch black surrounding of the backyard. The chilly air contrasted sharply against the warm cigarette settled between my lips. I snuck my free hand into the pocket of my hoodie as I stared into the darkness. The eerie silence with an occasionally chirping of insects brought a little peace in me. The dread weighing over me didn't disappear, but it was frozen by each inhale of the smoke.

I was enjoying the sweet serenity that made me forget my worries momentarily when the back door creaked open. In shock, I spun around quickly, trying in vain to conceal the cigarette behind me. A tuff of wild blonde hair appeared from the house with a flashlight in hand. Tristan blinked hard against the darkness, rubbing his eyes in the process. When the beam from his flashlight landed on my bright green hoodie, his eyes widened quite comically. He hastily closed the door behind him and shuffled to where I stood.

"Adele, what in the world are you doing out here in the middle of the night?" he whispered a little harshly, "I saw your shadow from my room and thought a robber was trying to break in!"

"Sorry," I apologized meekly, "I couldn't sleep."

"So you decided to freeze to death out here?" Tristan said sarcastically, with a dramatic shudder from his body.

At that moment, the object I was hiding behind my back left my mind briefly until Tristan suddenly pivoted towards me, his face contorted in shock. Before I knew what was happening, he reached for my right hand that was holding the cigarette. His mouth was set in a thin line at the sight of the small bud slowly emitting smoke.

"Seriously, Adele? Smoking? Who knew you had that in you," Tristan smirked, "Here I thought you were just a fresh, innocent junior."

Instantly the rage I felt earlier today at school resurfaced. Only this time, there was no Chayton to refrain me. I closed the distance between us with a few scurried steps until we were almost a breath's away.

"Don't you dare make assumptions when you barely even know me!" I hissed. The cigarette was thrown on the ground and stomped on in my rage so I was left without anything to calm myself down. Tristan's face quickly changed into an unreadable expression.

"I know you enough to tell how much of a brat you're being," he countered back.

"What's that supposed to mean!" I sputtered out in shock. Tristan rolled his eyes, much to my annoyance and whipped his head to remove his bangs from his eyes. I found myself itching to pull that blonde mane from his scalp as I waited for his answer.

"My mother has been nothing but nice to you since you came," he started, "but you insisted on being the city snob that you are. Haven't you ever considered a little thank you to her?"

I was ready to protest against his claim but he raised a hand to stop me.

"For example, the time she took us out for dinner," Tristan continued, "mom noticed that you've been a little sour lately so she brought us to a nice Italian restaurant to lighten you up. But no, you acted all emo and shit and when we got home, straight to bed you went without even a sign of gratitude!"

I laughed out of shock at his explanation. "You have no idea what I've been through so don't you talk to me like that," I gnarled at him. His stance was unfazed however, and he took a step forward with his arms folded in front his chest.

"Oh yeah?" he challenged, "Then why don't you tell me what you've 'been through' to make you start smoking shit and be rude, or are you always like this back at home?"

Oh, how I wanted to scream and shout at his face. My lips twitched with suppressed desire to inform him how I held my father's bloodied body in my arms, how I saw the nude bodies of my twenty one and ten year old sisters, how they chocked on their own blood, how little Sarah's doe brown eyes turned lifeless in front of me. But I couldn't. As much as I tried and wanted to, I didn't want to let my father's efforts to keep me safe be in vain because of a boy's stupidity.

"People like you don't deserve the truth!" I spat. Our shoulders collided briefly when I brushed past him to enter the house. He hollered my name a few times but I blocked him out as I raced to my room. I slammed the door noisily, not even caring that Mary Anne was sleeping down the hall. Perhaps if she woke up, she could see that she had raised a douche as a son.

In the safety confinements of my room, I hastily swallowed a few pills before lighting up another cigarette. It was the only way I knew to channel all the frustrations and anger out without an accidental outburst or worse, crumbling my walls. Soon, my room was filled with the heavy scent of smoke that hung in the air. The combination of the smoke and the pills numbed me to my very core. When I've puffed the cigarette to its last bit, I put out the bud on a ceramic soap holder I used as the ash tray and collapsed unceremoniously on the bed. It wasn't long before the euphoria lulled me to shallow, dreamless sleep.

When I woke up, it was merely three hours later and my muscles felt like they were made out of cement. I wanted to skip school so badly after the ordeal with Tristan but I knew Mary Anne would bombard me with questions of why I was smoking. Tristan was a mommy's boy; it wouldn't surprise me if he told her all about last night. I got dressed in a nick of time and wrapped my hair in a tight ponytail. Before I left, I made sure to spray the room with an air freshener as the heavy scent of smoke still clung in the atmosphere. I silently creeped out of the house to avoid any confrontations from mother and son.

When I got to school, the first thing that caught my attention was Chayton's blinding smile. Usually, my lips would pull up in a similar fashion automatically but this time, it sent a heavy feeling at the pit of my stomach. I didn't know why I felt like that when Chayton smiled brilliantly at another girl. It was such a strange feeling; I've never felt this way before.

The girl was flirting shamelessly by now, flipping her hair over her shoulder and tilting her head to the side to reveal her slender neck. I shouldn't feel like this, I thought to myself. Chayton was an attractive boy, in the dark horse kind of way. His skin was a perfect olive tone, thanks to his Native American-Mexican-Caucasian heritage; his curly mop of hair blew gently against the zephyr; his eyes bore his very soul in them and his smile was the best feature. Every time those lips pulled upwards, a small dimple would appear on his left cheek, making his look baby-ish and his eyes would squint into little slits when he laughed joyously. Anybody who looked past his baggy clothes and shaggy hair would fall for him and that busty girl was one of them. I shouldn't feel like strangling her, really. I shouldn't.

"Adele, are you in there? Hello?"

I jumped back when said boy was suddenly in front of me, snapping his fingers in my face. I coughed a little and tucked an imaginary hair behind my ears to cover the flush creeping up onto my face.

"Sorry, I was—thinking," I muttered embarrassingly. Chayton smirked almost sinisterly as we walked towards the school entrance.

"Thinking? Are you sure you're not just undressing me with your eyes?"

My steps faltered a bit. "Wha—I didn't! I was just you know—whatever, ugh!" I spluttered, face hot with shame. To my utter dismay, Chayton doubled over with laughter as he clung to my shoulder to avoid from falling over. I resisted the urge to swat his hand away so the linoleum floor would mute his laughter.

"You should've seen the look on your face," Chayton finally wheezed out, wiping a tear from his eye, "It was priceless." I narrowed my eyes at him as we continued our walk to Algebra class.

"You know it was a joke right?" he added. I stared at him skeptically, fingering the thick textbook in my hand.

"Your sense of your humor is very funny, indeed," I said sarcastically.

"What can I say, I'm a riot."

We took our usual seat, next to each other near the back of the classroom. I dropped the book on the small table with a heavy thud, glad to have the monstrous thing out of my grip. I was flipping through Mr. Charles previous notes when Chayton leaned to whisper in my ear.

"Do you want me to wear my muscle shirt tomorrow? It'll be easier for you to undress."

"Do you want this book marked permanently on your face?"

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To my surprise, Mr. Charles was absent today. Relieving his spot was a young teacher, probably fresh out of college. Poor guy kept stuttering and had to back paddle on his words every now and then. As usual, Chayton accompanied me to my locker since ours are across from each other when the bell rang, signaling the end of second period.

"Hey, do you remember my friend Stuart?" he asked out of the blue. I gave him a fleeting glance while I raided my locker for that missing notebook.

"Tall, lanky, like a lamppost? Yup, sure do. What's up with him?"

He moved to stand next to me, his right shoulder leaning against the metal locker. "That girl I was talking to this morning, she asked me if he was single. Unbelievable, right? Someone like Stuart could get a girlfriend," Chayton snickered.

My mouth dropped in shock. So that busty girl this morning wasn't interested in Chayton. Suddenly I felt a huge weight lifted off my shoulders. What kind of weight though, I wasn't even sure myself. I laughed along with him before bidding my farewell. I headed straight for my Biology class while Chayton had free period. Once seated, I began flipping through the textbook, looking at the various pictures of human organs. When my seatmate turned to her friend sitting at the back, the topic of their whispers instantly caught my attention.

"Did you hear what happened to Mr. Charles?" My ears perked up at this. I pretended to read the book to avoid looking like a stalker.

"Yes! I couldn't believe he got hit by a car and was left at the side of the road like that! Who would do that here?"

My blood abruptly ran cold. Who would do such a thing? Especially in a small town? I prayed he would be alright. If he was gone, I wouldn't have anybody to depend on anymore. I knew I would go berserk if my last hope was taken away from me too. I made up my mind to visit him right after school, regardless of Mary Anne's rules of 'no outing on a school night'.

After the last period, I hurriedly scuttled out of school, ignoring Chayton's curious calls. I felt slightly guilty for not acknowledging him but I had to hurry. I hailed a cab at the nearest bus stop and went to Maine General Medical Centre that was a twenty-minute drive away. It cost me a week of allowance but it was a sacrifice I could bear with. Thankfully, the attending nurse was a friendly old woman so it wasn't difficult to obtain the number to Mr. Charles' room.

I got lost on the third floor—or was it the fourth—but I managed to locate room 305. I rasped the wooden door with my knuckles gently and twisted the knob once his hoarse voice was heard. The sight before me made me suspired a breath I didn't know I was holding. Mr. Charles was sitting upright, propped by a couple of fluffy pillows. I studied his condition for a while. There didn't seem to be any serious damages except for the minor scraps on his face and the ankle brace he was sporting.

"Ah, Adele, how nice of you to stop by," Mr. Charles greeted. I took a seat on the plastic chair next to his bed, relieved that he was unharmed.

"Mr. Charles, what happened? Who did this?" I asked bluntly. Mr. Charles' smiled dropped, only to be masked by a serious expression that was rare to be seen on him. He was quiet for a while and I knew he was thinking hard.

"Adele, from now on, please open your eyes," he spoke in a deathly tone, "there are people around you who are not what you think they are."

Fear could not even be described as what I was feeling. It felt like my stomach had dropped to my feet, as if I was facing death right in the eye. I was, the eyes I was staring at could be just about anyone. Death was playing a deadly game with me.

"What—should I do?" I whispered uncertainly. Mr. Charles stared into my eyes and the coldness I witnessed earlier was gone. His blue eyes bore gentleness in them, just like father.

"You act as normally as you could. Don't even tell anyone that you visited here."

The ride home was a blur. The bald trees and white snow that blanketed the ground obscured into nothingness. I didn't have a clue as to what my life holds nor who shan't be trusted. It was tough to live, knowing death could await you just around the corner. It was much tougher when you don't know which direction is which. All I had left as guidance is the remainder of my father's last words. I recalled Mary Anne's conversation I heard last night and doubt began bubbling up inside of me but the memory of Tristan's harsh words proved me otherwise. Mary Anne was a loving mother, looking out for her son and adopted child. She couldn't possibly do any harm.

I stumbled out of the taxi, suddenly feeling extremely exhausted. Mary Anne was nowhere to be seen so it made my journey to the room much easier. I collapsed on the bed, ready to let sleep claim me but at the verge of unconsciousness, my cell phone rang. I pulled the annoying contraption from the depth of my pocket and the screen flashed endlessly.

"Hello?" I grumbled.

"Someone sounds unhappy," greeted the voice of Chayton. I rolled over to my side, all the bitterness washed away at the sound of his voice.

"Sorry, I'm just tired," I apologized. Chayton chuckled deeply from the other end of the phone.

"I can tell," he said, "anyways, where did you go after school? You ran out like a bat out of hell."

My mind was fuzzy and dazed; I didn't even registered what came out of my mouth.

"I was visiting Mr. Charles," I mumbled. My eyelids drooped and everything was beginning to fade. I heard Chayton asked a few questions, even hollered my name but I was pulled by sleep. Right before I succumbed to it, Chayton's soft laugh drifted through my mind, lulling me into a deeper slumber. His face and voice dominated my dreams and I was happy for once.

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