Girl (completed)

6

   "Blaire, can I have a word?" My mother asked as soon as dinner was over, and I nodded. We had eaten in silence, and I avoided eye contact the entire time.
We walked into the kitchen, and fell back into our old habit of cleaning the dishes. She would wash them, and I would dry them and put them away.
"Blaire, I want to talk about what happened when you left," she said, and I rolled my eyes. People were making this a very big deal, when I just wanted to forget it.
"Okay," I said, and I dried the inside of a cup with my rag and stood on my tippy-toes to reach the top shelf to put the cup away.
"I was a coward," she started, and I sighed. She really shouldn't be blaming herself.
"Mom, don't. I understand," I said, but she shook her head and looked like she was going to cry, which only made me feel guilty.
"No, Blaire. You are my daughter, and I let you down," she said, and tears spilled from her eyes, "you needed me, and I let you down. I am so sorry," she sobbed, and she set down the bowl and pulled me into her loving embrace. I stiffened at her touch, and then let my muscles relax.
"You didn't let me down, mom," I insisted, and she brushed her fingers through my long hair.
"I did. I should've stood up to you father. I let my fear take control, and I let you take the fall because I was weak," she said, and I hugged her back.
"Mom, I just want to forget about it, okay? It's okay, I'm here now," I said, and she let me go, looking at me in the eye.
"And I want you to know that the dynamic of this family has greatly changed. Me and your father split up for a while, but now he isn't as controlling and he's a lot more caring than you remember. I think that you should give him a chance to explain himself," she reasoned, and I sighed. As much as I despised my father, if this was ever going to be a functional relationship between us, we would have to talk.
"Okay, mom. I will," I promised, and she smiled at me pridefully, and I mustered a weak smile.
"I am so proud of you, Blaire. You are such a courageous young woman," my mother said, and I looked down and let my smile fall as my gaze shifted uncomfortably to the ground.
"I don't know about that, mom," I said, and she lifted my face, cupping my cheeks in her delicate hands.
"What happened was not your fault, okay? They're is nothing you could have done," she said, and I looked into her eyes sadly.
"That only makes me feel that much more helpless," I said, and I pulled away from her, walking out of the kitchen.
I walked into the living room and began to think as I sat down on the old couch. I thought of how many memories had happened right here. How many times I had sat with my mother and father on this couch, George right next to me. We had made forts in this room, played pretend. But now it all felt new, unfamiliar.
I was a stranger within my own body, discovering things about myself that I didn't even know, but that seemed to be apparent to everyone else. It seemed like I had everything put together, but in reality, I was just faking my way through this.
Suddenly, I felt the weight shift on the couch, and I looked over to see my father sitting, not looking in my direction, but instead at the carpeted floor.
"Hey, Dad," I said, feeling strange to even call him that. When I was gone, he was the main source of my hatred. I pinned everything wrong with my life on him.
"Hey, Blaire," he said, and I seriously contemplated standing up and walking away, but then I remembered my mother's face. How proud she had been of me. How much she wanted this. All she wanted was to have her normal family back, and I had promised to at least try, for her.
"Dad, if we are ever going to be normal, I can't just push my emotions down. I've had an entire year to think about what I would say to you, and I think I need to just let it out," I said, and he sighed.
"I deserve it," he said, and I took in a deep breath, thinking about how many times I had dreamed of this moment. Dreamed of conquering my beasts.
   "Dad, you split our family apart," I choked out, and I could feel the sting of hot tears nipping at my cheeks, "I needed you, and you sent me away," I said, and then I took a moment, but he dared not speak.
    "I'm sorry that I couldn't fight him off, but you have no idea how hard I tried. You have no idea how much I've hated myself for the last year for being weak, for being vulnerable. You have no idea of the dreams that nightmares that cloud my nights. The demons that hang over me, that watch my every move," I said, and he bit his cheek, still not looking at me.
   "And you had the nerve to blame it on me!" I yelled, getting angry now, "I was helpless! The screams still haunt me! And when I just needed my father, you weren't there! You were just another demon in my eye sight that ate away at me! So I'm sorry that I was naive, I'm sorry that I wasn't good enough!" I shouted, and I stood abruptly, stepping in his eye line.
   "And you can't even muster up the courage to face me! To look at what you've done!" I yelled, and he guilty gulped. Suddenly, I saw the black splotches in the corners of my vision, and I tried to fight them off. They slowly got closer and closer, finally meeting in the middle, and I fell.
I opened my eyes to see myself surrounded by a bunch of people that I knew. George, my parents, John, my friends, and Jeremy all stood in a circle around me, and they were laughing. They were pointing and laughing, but I couldn't hear them. It was deafeningly silent, and then I just heard bloodcurdling screams. After a moment, I realized they were coming from me.
   Then I was transported, and I was one of the crowd. I watched on, also silently laughing hysterically as I watched myself in the middle.
   Suddenly, I watched myself age. My hair grayed, and my bones began to wither. I couldn't stop laughing, and I watched myself wither away. I had a front row seat to my own great demise.
    I woke up, and George was holding my head, dabbing my face with a cold rag. My mom and dad also watched on with concern, and my eyelids fluttered.
   "What happened?" I asked, snapping back into reality.
   "You just fell, and Dad yelled for help, so I came running and now you're awake," George filled me in,and I sat up slowly.
   "How long have I been out?" I asked, and George looked at me.
   "Just a few minutes," he responded, and I shook my head. It had felt like years in my mind.
  "Here, I'll bring you up to bed. You should probably get some rest," George said, and I looked up at dad who looked guilty. He was running his hands through his hair, and it was apparent that no one else was aware of our fight, and I didn't bring it up. I instead let George lead me to the bed, and I tossed and turned all night, thinking of the horrifying, twisted, laughing faces of my dream. They seemed to be mocking me, and I couldn't shake the horrifying sight, so I didn't sleep.
   In the middle of the night, I heard a tapping at my window, and I smiled and grabbed my coat and ran downstairs, to the one person that would understand.
•••
Well I feel like this is drastically better than my old book... also, FUN FACT: I had no plans for this chapter other than the line "I had a front row seat to my own great demise" and I like how this turned out?