Revival [The Lake House Sequel]

Chapter 3.

Justin

I was so bored.

Even school was better than the hell that was sitting at home all day. At least there, I had something to do. Something that my mind could focus on. I was pretty good in school actually.

I finally convinced Richard to buy a TV for the living room. He never believed in having one, so I was always forced to watch outdated reruns on the library computer. Richard's was off limits and only to be used for school work.

But even with the TV, I was only allowed to watch for a certain amount of time each day. Too much TV would fuck with my brain and I would lose myself in fictional worlds causing my senses of reality to alter. In other words, I would fall into an even deeper depression. As if that could happen.

There was nothing even worth watching. A bunch of senseless shit with immature humor. And the news was just too damn sad for me. Too many attacks. Too many murders. Too many bad things happening to people who didn't deserve them.

I pretended to be doing better than I actually was. Sure I was making progress, but it wasn't the progress everyone else expected. Susan was proud of me. Dr. Mare was proud of me. Richard was proud of me, although he had an awkward way of showing it. I wanted to be better for them but my mind was going in a completely different direction.

Things with Richard were better for a while but they were slowly getting worse and worse. Back to how it was last year. I would never forgive him for a lot of what happened to me. For him ruining my life completely and treating me the way he did. Things would never be okay. They would always be awkward and tense because that's just how it is when your trust in someone fades slowly.

Sometimes I hated him but sometimes I loved him so much and I was terrified to lose him. When everything turned to shit, he was all I had, he took care of me and the thought of being without him and being alone chilled me to the core. It was a fucked up relationship we had but it was what it was. The only relationship I had with anyone.

Richard was out for the day. I woke up at noon, panicked when I realized Richard never woke me up and I immediately assumed the worst. But the car was gone. There was no note or anything. I reveled in the silence and serenity of not being pestered all day. I brought my breakfast into the living room, hiding the milk I spilled on the couch with a horrendous green pillow, and ate in front of stupid morning talk shows.

I had nothing else to do so I decided to busy myself with something I'd wanted to do for years. The door to the attic was at the end of the hall upstairs. I don't think I had been up there since I was little. I could busy myself and save Richard the tiring work of cleaning it out.

It was medium sized, filled floor-to-ceiling with boxes. Filled wall-to-wall with memories. Puffs of dust flew up from the first box I pulled from the stacks. Inside were envelopes and tons of photo albums.

Lying right on the top was a framed birth certificate. My birth certificate. My mom's elegant scrawl scratched the bottom of the page. It was weird how something so insignificant meant so much to me. My eyes scanned over the even less significant name next my mother's.

Two people brought me into this world. And neither of them was around anymore. It burned me from the inside out.

I put the birth certificate aside and moved to the piles of pictures. I flipped through them for hours, smiling and crying. I was alone so I let the tears run freely as I went through box after box, picking out the pictures I wanted to keep.

"What are you doing up here?"

I flinched habitually, box tumbling out of my lap. There was almost no light peering out of the attic window. I had spent most of the day losing myself in old memorabilia. Richard stood at the door and he didn't look happy.