enfin.

Chapter 5〢Seule

tw: mental abuse

Kiera

10:42

Click. The car doors locked; seemingly more forbidding and colder than ever, as if instead of being locked in a car, I was being trapped in a cell. 

Nic's eyes didn't meet mine when we got in; they also hadn't the entire night. I felt he couldn't stand my presence, or anyone's any longer. He'd become so isolated and distant from all those around him ever since we moved, here additionally referring to him spending the rest of the dinner event outside, alone and bonded to a cigarette with a look of misery plastered across his face. I hate seeing you like this. 

The adrenaline from the night's activities rapidly dissipated once I was settled in my seat. Soon out of pure fear, I stole a quick glance to the rear-view mirror only to be met with my mother's piercing gaze already fixed on me and boring into my soul, confirming my worries. You are still to be punished  is what her eyes declared. She had not forgotten her words from earlier. 'I'm the one who is sorry for you, wait for us to return home after this'. I decided to let my incurable dread and hopelessness guide me to sleep. There was no point in being fully conscious, having my thoughts consume me whole. Shortly, my eyelids slowly drooped, plunging me into darkness. 

The day's soft breeze wasn't enough to cool me from the sultry Marseille atmosphere but the present clear blue sky was enough compensation. It was my 6th birthday and I was going to see Mer. From my tiny top floor window, I'd caught sight of Nic loading a picnic basket fully covered with balloons into the car and my mom leaning against the hood, lathering herself in sunscreen. I grabbed Mr. Lapin along with my yellow flowered sun hat from the top of my drawer and sprinted outside excitedly to meet them. As soon as I'd stepped out of our large french backdoors, I was swiftly picked up, spun around and thrown into the air "PAPA!" I laughed, showing my teeth off to the sun as she gently warmed my skin."T'es pret?", He asked gleefully. I nodded as I was carefully placed back on the ground. "Vas-y" he smiled, and I hurried to the car and got inside followed by Nic who got in beside me as my dad playfully tousled his hair. Once we were all seated; my dad at the wheel, my mom at his side, Nic in the back by my side and Mr. Lapin on my lap; we began the drive to the Roche's condo, my all time favourite journey; the most scenic route ever.

After a few minutes of passing by dull trees, the road started to increase in familiarity and as I twisted my head towards the right side of the car, there she was. La mer. It glistened beautifully under the tender rays of sun, spreading as far as one's eyes could go and more plains further, coloured with the most beautiful sapphire ombre one could possibly imagine. It was so inviting. Even during the few seconds of driving past it with few glimpses of it's natural beauty, I finally thought I'd understood Mer's attraction to the sea. It was so welcoming. Soon later, the constant hum of the engine and rock of the car lulled me to sleep. "Ki, we're here-"

"Ki, Ki, Ki. Kiera. Kiera. Get up. Get up you're here." Feeling irritated by having such a sublime dream cut short,  I felt myself being violently shaken by someone. Nic? It took a few blinks for my eyes to adjust to the harsh porch lighting. "Ki, get up right now." Yeah, definitely Nicolas. "You need to get in there, hurry. They won't wait for you." It fortunately didn't take as long as it did for my eyes to adjust to the lighting than it did my head to process what was going on and memories to gush back into my mind. I'm at home, it's time. They're not waiting for me?  "Fuck, Nic what are they doing?", I briskly brushed past him, heading for the house while at the same time gulping down tears before being given a solid reason to cry. Frighteningly, when I reached them, the front doors were already half-opened, exposing the horrors taking place behind.

New York's average weather isn't what you'd describe as tropical on a daily basis but with the scorching fire that blazed in the fireplace from across the room, you definitely would have compared the climate to hell. The somewhat-controlled flames weren't the issue however. Instead, it had been the contents engulfed in it, toasting in the flames. My heart fell in my chest and shattered when I could successfully recognise them. Beside my mother's feet was my preserved box of life's memories containing my every achievements, my every symbols of hope and my every souvenirs of joy. That box was now the source of materials motivating the fire before me. The hardest part wasn't watching my only years of cheerfulness incinerate under my nose, no, it was the fact that I couldn't do anything that made it sting. I was being forced to watch and unpermitted to show weakness. I could not save my life. My father guarded the area by resting himself on a couch nearby, arms folded, ends of his lips up, enjoying my torment like he would a favorite program. And as for my mother? Oh it must've felt sweet, tossing away the only reminders of a cheerful past her daughter has ever had like she would insignificant pieces of trash. Exactly how she treats me. "Don't dare think you do not deserve this.", she produced the only phrase spoken during the whole ten minutes my eyes were cemented to the terror. At some point in time, I found myself on my knees digging my nails into my skin, trying exceptionally hard to not show any emotion. My head felt heavy, my skin felt dead. It hurt. Their mission was accomplished. 

Once being stripped dry of all feeling, I was sent up to my room and after  pushing the door aside, my hand froze on the doorknob. I couldn't recognise it. This room was barren; so colourless and lifeless that I couldn't look at it for too long else my brain would process in a monochrome setting. It resembled a prison cell. Everything was gone. Everything. All stuffed animals and pictures; all books and games. Gone. If I had no distractions, I would never make them late again.  

I spent the rest of the night convincing myself that their reaction was warranted, that I  was the one at fault for not being good enough. That night, I'd let my self-destructive thoughts and the sound of raised voices quarrelling downstairs become a lullaby, making me oblivious to the metronomic beeps that chimed from my closet.