Page 5 of Beautiful Nightmare
1980S - HOLLOWS GROVE, PA
The sun has risen twice since the last time I saw Prince.
At first, I was unbothered. It was another day just like the last, spent alone. But then, as it does, my mind wandered and became curious.
Today, I have decided to find the boy.
Opening my bedroom door, I peer out, and it seems that I am alone. Down the hall, where a door once remained open, day in and day out, it is now closed; it has to be his room.
On my tiptoes, I creep down the hallway. Just like the exterior, the inside is just as darkly decorated. Wall sconces hang, shining a dim yellow light; the windows are tinted, not allowing sunlight to invade,and old pictures of people I’ve never seen before decorate the walls.
Passing the stairs, I am almost there when a floorboard squeaks below me. I pause, my mind racing, and I decide to walk loudly toward the stairs as if I am going down them to resume my position outside on the tree swing.
With hopes my act of deception works, my body stands frozen at the stair opening; I wait to ensure no one comes to check on the curious noises in the hall. Time passes slowly, but patience is important. No one comes, no one cares, and I continue my mission.
Nervously, I inhale through my nose; I tiptoe farther down the hall, staying close to the wall in an effort to avoid any other unpredictable squeaky floorboards. Reaching the door, my eyes shift to the right, where a narrow hallway continues to Agatha’s suite. Her door is always closed, and I dare never sneak into it. I truly believe she would kill me if I tried.
Placing my ear against the cool wood, it sends a chill down my body, and my hairs rise. It’s the middle of summer; this doesn’t make sense. The door is ice, like all the happiness in the world was sucked out of the air, leaving only sadness and empty souls behind. My curiosity piques even more.Who is this boy? The blood on his pajamas, the white eyes, his strange question. I need to know more.
Bringing my hand to the black iron doorknob, I find it’s freezing, and my skin sticks to it instantly like a warm tongue to a frozen pole in the winter.
I swallow and start turning it, millimeter by millimeter.
My teeth try to chatter, but I stick my tongue between them to stop any noise. I keep at this for nearly two minutes, slow and steady. As I feel the knob give less resistance, I know I have made it all the way, and it is now time to push the door open.
Every part of me is hoping the old hinges don’t expose me.
A sliver of light greets the darkness of the hallway. His bed is against the wall within my view, and Prince is levitating. My brow furrows.
What the fuck?
Soft whispers are being spoken. It’s Agatha.
“Vanquish the demons. Vanquish the thoughts. Deprive yourself of all sensations. Or forgive you, I will not.”
Opening the door ever so slightly more, I find Agatha’s hands are trembling as her palms face him, and she repeats herself once more. “Vanquish thedemons. Vanquish the thoughts. Deprive yourself of all sensations. Or forgive you, I will not.”
The second time hits harder. My body reacts as if it’s heard this spell before. Closing my eyes, I search my memory far and wide but come up dry. Reaching my free hand to my hair, I scrunch it, then pull at the strands out of frustration. Where have I heard this? Why is it so triggering?
My hand lets go of the cold iron knob, and my fingernails begin to tap against it, and it’s as soon as I start that I know I have majorly fucked up.
The door swings open fully, anger and aggression following, and the bedroom light explodes just as Prince’s body falls hard against the mattress.
Agatha shouts with the most intensity I’ve ever experienced, “Out, child! OUT!” The wall sconces flicker, the house falls dark, and I am fucking terrified.
Peeling my face off the door, my body stumbles backward, and my bare feet trip on the dark hallway rug before rushing back to my bedroom. My chest heaves, anxiety coursing through me. And I know only bad things will come of this. I slam the door behind me, hoping to buy another second of time before the fury kicks up.
Footsteps stomp down the hall, and they becomelouder and louder the closer they get. I scurry to my bed and jump on top of it. It’s unmade, and I huddle my legs under the sheets, bringing my knees to my chest, and wait. The door swings open, and Agatha stands at the threshold with her arms crossed, a scowl on her face, and her words are spoken slowly when she says, “Don’t you dare open a closed door in this house again. You know the rules. Or were they not clear enough for you?”
My head nods rapidly, terrified of what’s to come. I am not getting out of this easily.
Stepping forward, her arms uncross. My eyes water, and my lip attempts to quiver.
Taking three large steps, Agatha reaches me, and her hand cups my face, squeezing it tightly in her grip. It hurts. She could crush my skull if she wanted to, but I won’t let a tear fall in her presence; I will leave this earth with the little dignity I have left. With all the willpower I can muster up, I hold it in.
My mind dissociates, familiar voices enter my head, reminding me how strong I am, and I hold on to that for as long as I can, which isn’t long at all because Agatha breaks the silence and reminds me of my worth.
“Did you learn nothing from your moms’ death?”