Chasing the Stars

The Demons Within Us

We'd stolen a truck from a nearby village and were now driving to Munich, where we planned to take a break. The only windows were at the front, where Evan was driving, and that made the back of the truck seem gloomy and hollow. I had taken out my sketch book and was drawing the inside of the van. The way the metal clanged, and the air billowed in through the windows. The way each one of us sat cuddled up alone, while our hair was whipped around. The hum of the engine, and the vague taste of blood still in my mouth. I'd cleaned my face with water, but I wasn't sure if I'd ever feel clean again. I would always remember the sticky feeling of the blood splattering across my face, so scared that it would have been my last breath. Lizzy was sitting in the furthest corner from everyone else, hugging herself. I felt sorry for her. She was so young, so innocent; she did not deserve it.

I shuffled over to Carmilla, who was reading a book.

"Can I ask you a question?" I said. She looked up, her blue eyes connecting with mine for a brief second, and the corner of her mouth lifted a little. She nodded.

"Who were the people chasing you?" I asked tentatively.

"Probably someone sent by our parents to bring us back. They have the money for it, although they probably don't want me back" she said, voice monotone. It was like the wall in her eyes again. She acted like she didn't care, forcing all her emotions back; I just wanted to hug her. There was something so vulnerable yet strong about her. The wall in her eyes, hiding the constellations I knew were back there somewhere. What could have hurt someone so much for them to become so broken?

"Why did you run away from your parents?", I asked, voice shaking. I hope I wasn't going to hit a raw chord.

"Because they hated me and I hated them. I hated my school and all the rich posh kids that beat me up on my way back home because of my black hair, and the poor, public school girl I dated. Of course my parents didn't say anything. Not even when I came home with a broken nose, a bleeding lip and a black eye. The only time they said anything was when they caught me with her. They made her leave me. I hated my life. I felt trapped in a cocoon that I couldn't escape, and then I realized I could. I didn't have to cope with it, hoping for the day I wouldn't wake up. I could make my own life. So that's why I'm out here now." She whispered angrily. She glimpsed quickly at my open mouth.

"That's awful!" I exclaimed, then slamming my hand over my mouth as I disturbed the echoing silence. A faint smile traced along her face at that. But it was truly horrible, I felt something pang deep inside me thinking about her going through that. It was this kind of pain that digs its way into you, and it's not unbearable, but it hurts.

"So if it's truth or dare time, why do you want to go back to your family?" she questioned, smile on her face.

I told her my story, everything; about my brother who killed himself because he thought my parents saw him as worthless, about the arguing and how my family seems to be falling apart. Also about how it didn't matter to me because I loved them and they loved me and while they didn't act like the cared about my brother when he was alive, I saw their hearts break at his death; but it was too late. And now I finally understand my people stayed in abusive relationships, they loved them, and for some reason that was enough to stay.

Carmilla seemed flabbergasted that I wanted to return to them, but they were all I had, and I couldn't leave my siblings alone. She held me hand, giving it a small squeeze and I squeezed back. It felt nice telling someone else, the support that flowed from our fingertips. That she supported my decision even if she didn't agree with it.

As she retreated back to her corner to sleep, I noticed my sketch book missing. Searching around frantically, I noticed it in Susan's arms.

I rushed over to her, pausing as I noticed the page she had open. My brother! It was a detailed drawing of the incident. There was blood splattered haphazardly over the page, as I'd gotten a nosebleed as I drew it. The irony still haunts me.