I Can Imagine {GxG}

Chapter 1

*Renae's POV*

His face flashed through my mind, sending fear coursing through my veins and making my muscles cramp up. I slam on the brakes and wheeze while trying to catch my breath. Mom had yelped and was holding her chest with one hand, but resting the other on my shoulder gently. "Are you alright baby?" She asks, while calming me down. I nod while staring down at my jeans. "What was it this time?"

It takes me a moment to answer. Thinking back to whatever it was that triggered me... "The train tracks... there was one-"

"Near the house." Mom finishes while rubbing my back. "Okay. That's enough for today, I'll drive us the rest of the way home. I was shaking but nodded my head as I put the maroon truck in park and unbuckled. The rest of the drive was quiet. To me at least, mom was talking away about something she read online. She's been so supportive of me, even though we'd been away for so long. I look up at her. I was a spitting image of her, with wine red hair, chocolate freckles, and her soft but sharp face. The main difference was her brown eyes and my blue ones. She also had shorter hair, mine fell past my breasts while hers were far from her shoulders. He never wanted me to cut my hair. I press my glasses farther up and suck in a deep breathe.

"Thank you." I state, but turn away when she tries to meet my eyes. I look out to the foliage outside, fir and spruce trees dot the landscape and my eyes lock onto a doe nuzzling a fawn while a buck kept watch.

"Baby, you don't need to thank me. It's my job as your mother to look after you." She pauses and looks down at the wheel. "I'm only sorry that I didn't for so long."

It wasn't Mom's fault that I was left with Mr. Stewart... calling him Dad was never really a thing. She was deployed a lot and busy with her career. She had thought it would be best for me to be in his care, where he didn't move or have a dangerous career. Unfortunately unbeknownst to Mom at the time, he rarely had a solid career. It was a big ordeal once everything got out.

Imagine it from her perspective. You gave up your child when she was only 2 years old in the divorce, thinking you made a good decision that it was best for them. Not even 16 years later you're called in by your superior with a sullen look on his face. He has you take a seat before he begins, while unconsciously placing his hand closer to the picture of his family. You ponder over what he may need you for, while also thinking about how excited you are to hang out with your friends in town later on. He starts off and you immediately get the idea something was wrong. "Forgive me for being the one to tell you this."

I pull myself out of Mom's memory as she presses a hand to her forehead. People often feel whenever I access their memories. To be fair I was only a third immersed into her memory. I've been doing it for as long as I can remember. I feel bad that I did that. It's not something I like doing, after all, it made so many things terrible. Not to mention it's an invasion of privacy, I've learned that people generally don't like when you step into their shoes. Also, it can give them headaches, which is probably what Mom's feeling right now as she holds her head. I mentally kick myself.

After a bit we pull into our new apartment. Mom lets out a sigh while putting the truck in park, unbuckling and pulling out the keys. Our new apartment is in a big red brick complex. Our place though is small, with two bedrooms and two bathrooms. "Ren, I really am sorry that I wasn't there for you. I never imagined-"

"Mom, it's not your fault. Don't blame yourself... " I look down, not wanting to think about it. After all most people wouldn't want to relive their life of abuse. I follow suit and we gather up our bags while heading inside. The apartment doors face the inside hall. The floor was an ugly french blue and the walls a cream banana color which followed into all of the apartment complexes. We drag our stuff into our apartment and barrel through. We had gone shopping for things we needed, both so I could go to school, and so that we could eat.