Facade

38|| sunrise

Song : Lay By Me - Ruben
tw : domestic violence, nightmares/PTSD

~ Alejandra ~

For some reason, my adrenaline isn't as high as I thought it would be as I knock on the door of my apartment.

A million thoughts race through my head yet, none of them transfer into the familiar sense of reality that comes with being home. The well known feeling of fear rushing through every vein in my body.

I don't bother questioning this strange relaxation when the door opens to reveal the man that I hoped to see just one more time before never coming back.

"Dad." I greet him, my tone remaining nonchalant.

He doesn't look at me angrily as he usually does, nor does he look at me with joy either.

He looks how I feel, completely blank.

"I just came to get some things." The mood turns almost awkward as no trace of fear runs through me.

I have no urge to run or hide, no sense of fight or flight. I'm not sure why and it confuses me.

The door opens wider as he uses the hand not holding it open to gesture for me to come in. I do so slowly, looking around and seeing a clean table with no bottles astray anywhere, not in the kitchen or the living room.

The floors shine and the room smells of lavender air freshener, the kind Nayah uses in her room.

The apartment looks the same, yet new. It's as if it was just bought, as if it's the before picture waiting for the after to follow.

"I uh.. cleaned up a bit." He explains, almost timidly.

I don't turn my head to look at him. I merely look at the spotless apartment that I've only ever known to reek of booze and rage.

My mind remains blank while my body moves on autopilot. I head down the hallway and keep walking straight into my room.

Opening the familiar door, I take a look around and everything is strange. All of my things are exactly where they belong, my bed stripped of its sheets and my floor clear of stray shoes and random items like clothes or notebooks.

I stop and take in the space, the same flowery scent following me. For some reason, my body moves to my closet and when I open it, it's half empty.

The space is void of half of my clothes, almost all of the items missing are ones I know I've had for the past four years and I didn't take them with me the first time I left.

Where's my stuff?

"You needed new clothes. The rest of them didn't fit you anymore."

I turn around and my dad is standing at my door, watching me search the half empty closet.

I'm about to ask him questions, a series of them that can't all process at the same time.

They could be about anything surround him or the apartment, but for some reason, my mind is only stuck on my closet.

How'd he know which clothes I'd had for years and which ones I didn't? Why is my room spotless? What does he mean by, "new clothes."

All of these questions, specifically surrounding my wardrobe, are interrupted by the sound of the front door opening in the distance.

"I'm home!"

My heart stops.

I don't hesitate when I follow the sound out of my room and down the hallway, stopping when I see dark, brown waves and tanned skin identical to mine.