Wicked and yours

Future plans (running from the past)

   He holds a knife, and as he does, he points it at Wickie's chest.

    Wickie stands frozen in place in the dining room, her body locked from fear, and disbelief. Her mother stares at the both of them, face shifting from helplessness to rage.

    Wickie's heart is beating too loud, and she can't really hear what the man is saying, she only knows that she pays more attention to him when the knife is pointed at her.

    "Please..." Wickie finds herself saying, her body shaking.

    Her mother silences her with a look, but the man isn't paying attention to her, his focus is now on Wickie.

    Maybe it's the fear, but she can't really see his face. Or maybe the knife as her focus.

    All she knows is that the minute the knife is pointed at her, her focus is on it.

    It's one of the biggest knives she's ever seen. The one she's seen used to carve turkey, ham, or break apart ribs.

     The sound of Wickie's heart pounding makes her deaf, and when the knife lashes out towards her-

    Wickie jolts up from her desk, her body shaking. She places her hands on the desk in an attempt to calm herself, letting out a slow breath.

    She hadn't had nightmares about the incident for months, thinking that she was getting over the fact that it happened.

    Tonight proved otherwise though, and she scrubbed her face with her palm, letting out a shaky breath.

    She had napped for about two hours after school, and then had that stupid dream. Closing her laptop, she headed downstairs to get a snack, straining to hear of any noise to indicate her mother had left her room and taken space in the kitchen or living room.

    The only sound she could hear was the TV that was always on in the living room. Wickie took quiet steps as she peeked around the corner to see if her mother was asleep on the couch.

    To her relief, both were empty and the door to her room was closed. Heading for the kitchen, she winced at the sight of empty alcohol bottles strewn all over the kitchen sink and floor.

    Wickie use to clean up after her mother, but as time wore on, it was for nothing. Somehow, her mother would make the mess even worse once she saw how clean it was.

    So, she kept her bedroom and bathroom clean only, the public spaces of her house dirtied beyond belief. 

    It didn't bother her too much. It wasn't like she had friends who were dying to come over.

    Well, except Mallory. But Mallory was especially busy this year as she was trying to cram and get everything ready for when she left the country to go to her dream college.

    Wickie wondered what that was like. To have dreams instead of nightmares.

    She scooped some peanut butter from the jar and spread it on her toast, banana slices on the side, as she bit into it, drinking down the milk.

    Wickie heard a clatter and nearly dropped the glass on the floor as she turned to see her mother standing in the dining area. Her heart dropped, and fear curled the food in her stomach, threatening to make a reappearance.

    The thing that scared Wickie the most wasn't the beatings, or the words she threw at her. It was the way her mother looked. Her once jet-black hair that she brushed until it shone was tangled into a greasy mess at the top of her head. Her smooth, tanned face was paling, dark marks under her eyes from the lack of sleep she did.

    Her clothes were rumpled, as if she rolled out of bed, one sock missing from each foot. She said nothing as she pulled out a wad of cash and placed it on the dining table.

    After about a few minutes, she shuffled back into her room, closing and locking the door behind her.

    Wickie stood still for a couple more seconds before walking over to the table and grabbing the money.

    She checked the date, and sure enough, it was the day when her mother would actually try to interact with Wickie.

    Paying bills day.

   Wickie wasn't sure how her mother was getting paid. And in bills. She never bothered to ask, but she was curious as it was rare that her mother left the house.

    Wickie counted the money, then pocketed it. It was enough to buy groceries, and pay the electricity, water, and gas bill. Plus, she had given Wickie sixty bucks extra, which Wickie was going to save.

    Grabbing her keys, she headed out the front door, shivering slightly. The sun was just dipping down the horizon, the cool air giving Wickie a chill. She got in her car, starting it, and set off.

    Once she sent out the money to the necessary billing companies, she headed over to the grocery store. To her mother's disappointment, Wickie wasn't old enough to restock her alcohol. She'd go whenever the time it was for her to get more, since she didn't really want to get in trouble with the law.

    Wickie pushed the squeaking cart through the aisles, reaching for bread that her mother favored the most. She placed it in the cart, scanning the aisle for the cereal aisle.

    Sometimes, fate is weird. Very weird.

    As her gaze moved around, she froze, seeing Kaede sporting his casual clothes (a muscle shirt, and gray basketball shorts with beat up sneakers), her heart picking up speed.

    Her hands clenched on the handheld of the shopping cart, and she snatched up a random food item-a can of radishes?-and headed for the other aisle.

    The thing was, Wickie was always ready. Ready for anything when it came to Kaede. Surprises like these made her nervous while also giving her butterflies.

    As she watched him push the cart, taking in everything he was going to buy, she quickly bought everything she needed, and followed after him.

    He placed his groceries in his sleek black BMW, Wickie familiarizing with the car.

   See, the other thing about Wicke was the she rolled with the punches that life threw at her. She started her own car, following after him as he headed off back home.

    Wickie hummed to herself, wondering what she was going to see.