Chapter 2

I walk among the wheat-filled land feeling a slight breeze through my free-flowing white dress. Gazing ahead of this vast field I see what looks to be a bright light. The light calls for me, wanting me to come to it. Its auspicious glow puts me in a hypnotic trance and I find myself to be edging nearer and nearer to it with the breeze getting stronger.

The rough texture of the wheat grazes against the cloth as I brush a few strands of hair from my eyes and tightly clutch the hem of my dress. I hear the sounds of a child's laughter emit from the glow. I get closer not knowing what may lie ahead and then I am embraced with a sudden void of darkness.

Lost memories erupt from a distance heading closer to me, forcing me to see them and acknowledge them. The child's laughter grew louder and louder, I see before me a joyful youth filled with the utmost of innocence running and playing.

At that moment, I see her, the woman, smiling at her child, running after her, cuddling and kissing her. Her ocean blue eyes shined with purity and livelihood while holding the young girl in her arms. Their surroundings were dirty, adhering to its sheer repulsiveness.

Bugs nestled in the corners of the residence, collections of dust draped over the floor and furniture with the screams of the bad people above filling the air. Though that didn't matter, as long as they had each other, as long as we had each other. Then the very essences of the two souls begin to drift away leaving shells of forgotten memories.

The woman is of what she is now. Not a mother, just a woman, a very angry woman. A woman lost in her own chaos. A woman who left a child, unaware of her mother's failing sanity, to be used as her verbal and physical punching bag to rid herself of her never-ending pain. My own pain began to bubble watching the young girl's spirit break day after day until she became nothing more than a lifeless vessel.

I back away, hands covering my eyes, yelling at the top of my lungs to end this miserable pain of the past. My memories surround me, forcing me to watch the horrendous acts convicted by the vile woman.

No more, please. I beg you, leave me alone. I don't want to see it. I don't want to hear it. Why am I running back to the past? I want this gone. I want this all gone.

I drop to my knees, tightly shut my eyes and block my ears silencing the world around me only for my mind to be loud. There was yelling, an unfamiliar yell. The sound was from another youth, a youth of my age.

It was high pitched, female perhaps, muffling words I couldn't make of. I shifted my focus to the yell which then grown softer and softer until I am back to where I am, back from my daydream, in the classroom, in reality.

It was lunch time and I weaved my way through the crowd to get to the cafeteria. The suspicious odour of the food made me uncertain whether to try it or not. I didn't bring my own food and I don't want to hear Nicole's century-old lecture on the importance of eating.

Not having much a choice other than starving, I stood in line, picked up my tray and placed upon my limited options on to it. After paying for it, I sat down at an almost empty table and just inspected the substances in front of me.

To the right of the tray was a reddish brown almost rectangle-shaped form of...meat? To the centre was rice but looked to be dabbled with a series of unnecessary seasonings giving it a jaundice-like yellow colour. To the left was a dark brown block wrapped in a thin layer of plastic. I assume that it's a brownie just by poking and prodding at it with my finger leaving small indents behind.

My stomach began to growl and grumble telling me to take in the edible substances. I obey to my needs and consume the foods with reluctance. The texture was bland, the taste was questionable and the aftertaste was horrible.

Feelings of disgust arose but my hunger suppressed them. The brownie was the only appetizing form of nourishment out of my lunch, that and my bottle of water.

I pushed the remains of the food aside, too sickened to take any more of it and enjoyed the savoury moments of my brownie and water. Although, those moments were put to a halt when a not so pleasant male came forth and sat beside me.

He smelled strongly of male cologne with jet black hair slicked back, grey eyes twinkling with mischief studying me and a smug grin that complimented his overall demeanour. I didn't pay much attention to him and went back to eating. I can feel the heat radiating off of him as he neared close to me and placed a hand on my thigh.

Don't act annoyed, just keep calm.

"Hey, baby, what's your name?" While I do admit his voice was soothing for the ears his breath reeked of onions and garlic. I still remained quiet and continued on to finish the last bit of my brownie. But an alarming feeling developed when I felt his hand squeezing my thigh.

Don't act annoyed, don't act scared. Just remain calm and take his hand off of my thigh.

I did what I was thinking but he only grabbed my hand and pulled me close. I raised an eyebrow at his confronting act but he only smiled at me.

"You're not much of a talker, are you? C'mon, babe, tell me your name. I won't bite."

"Get off." I brutally pushed him off causing him to fall to the ground. The last thing I needed was for my day to be ruined by some obstruction that is this boy. He abruptly got up, harmless and looked down at me with a red-tinted face, fists balled with fury. I met his gaze with an apathetic one, not giving care of what he was about to do next.

Splash!

I sat there cold, wet and shocked. Droplets of water dripped from my hair resembling miniature crystals. My blouse was soaked as well as parts of my skirt. I felt the eyes of many peering at me, some of which were whispering, snickering and scoffing.

I didn't pay attention to them as I looked up at the male. His fingers continue to lightly grasp my bottled water, looming it over my head as the last bits of the liquid fell to my scalp.

He dropped the bottle onto my head, with it slightly bouncing off and rolling across the ground. His jaw tightened, teeth gritted, eyebrows furrowed forming unflattering lines on his forehead.

He lowered his uplifted arm to his side, turned around and walked away. Upon reaching the exit he stopped and looked over his shoulder facing me.

"That's what you get, bitch," the male sneered while heading off. The cafeteria was dead silent with no one daring enough to interrupt it. It was only then when I got up people started to talk. I ignored whatever they had to say, not like it was interesting or worth getting offended about, before walking out with my bag in hand.

I enter the bathroom and stood forth in the mirror. Facing back was me but a little messy. Not someone ugly, not someone pathetic, just me and the outcome of my actions to which ruined my mascara, hair and clothes. It took a bit of time before I regained my former appearance but my mascara couldn't have been saved.

Ah well, it was cheap anyway

My hair was still damp but that didn't matter, what did were my clothes. Still wet and stuck to my body like a second skin. It was uncomfortable to move in but I didn't really have any options here.

With a heave of a frustrated sigh, I slung my bag over my shoulder, shivering from the wetness of my clothes and made my way out the door. Upon my way out I heard a soft song playing from a distance.

Its melodious tune was gentle and audibly pleasing. Everything around me suddenly dissipated into a blur with the rhythmic song guiding me to "it", pulling me to where "it" wants to be heard.

I go, subconsciously tightening my grip on the strap of my bag, towards the source of the music. The sound subtly gets louder until my mind and my soul are engulfed by all of it. And then I am back again to the music room. Although, another person has gotten there before me and he is the one composing an art that entrances my soul.

He plays as if no one is here. His fingers gently glide across the keys in tune with the sound being created. His composure was relaxed as well as alert, trying to not lose his full self to the world of music.

He seemed torn between staying in this reality or letting himself go, succumbing to his art. I stare, not moving one muscle, craving for more of his sweet music but he stops. The abrupt halt of the melody brought me back to my senses, heightening them.

I see him begin to shift; he's turning around, sensing my presence. I quickly and quietly moved out of his field of vision, not wanting to be seen. I heard the creak of the chair indicating that he's getting up and then I heard footsteps. They became louder to where I was, rubbing against the tiled floor creating a squeak every now and then.

He stepped out of the room and our eyes held each other. He didn't speak nor did he move just stood there in a casual manner, hands stuffed in his jeans pocket, upper body slightly hunched forward, staring down at me as I do up to him. He was doing what I was doing, analyzing, looking for any form of reaction of what we just came to know about each other.

His lips pressed into a fine line as he walked past me with as little contact from me as possible. I continued to stand there feeling the remnants of his being mesh with my thoughts of him.

He was lanky with pasty white skin illuminating from the fluorescent lights above. His face wreathed calmness along with staggered feelings making its presence in the deep brown pools of his eyes.

He looked to be a freshman wearing a grey crew neck with black skinny jeans along with black and white sneakers. He was in a bit of a daze, there but at the same time not there.

Still torn between two worlds for which he is forcing himself to be in this one. I would have advanced my mind in the realm of art had I been in his position.

I seized the continuation of my daydream for the rest of the day, limiting my mind from drifting away to my haunting memories. Instead, I focused on what I was expected to by my teachers, school. School in my mind seeks and nurtures your interests to which, hopefully, you carry with you, later on, to make it a career.

School also challenges your abilities, telling you what you can and can't do, measuring your level of succession based on a series of numbers. They extract and exploit what they see within you as your weaknesses and strengths, likes and dislikes.

Memorization and ignorance will become your friend; fluid reasoning will be your worst enemy, an absurd and odd concept in the minds of all who have crystallized intelligence.

I failed to keep myself interested in the world shaping concepts of History, Geography's introduction to the timeline of earth's physical transformation and the seductive advances of Math's numerical and logical equations.

Be that as it may, I found it a bit amusing by Science's pathetic attempt to entice the students with its understanding of the world through experiments and observations.

Also, PE's lecture was similar to that of Nicole of taking care of yourself safely and healthily in spite of the degradation of homeostasis as we age to which is beyond our control.

However, I did find myself moved by English's various options of interpretation and perception of textual based notions along with the expressiveness and human-like qualities of Art.

Besides those two, nothing else could amplify and stir a series of emotions within me as I came home with Richard after school to only be greeted by a little girl I saw in my daydream. She was hugging Nicole's pants, face buried in them with an eye slipping past the fabric to meet my eyes.

Same as the woman's, ocean blue. Her oval shaped face, strawberry blonde hair, soft snub nose, rosy red cheeks, all of which resembled the woman.

Though there were her lips, thin whereas the woman's lips were round, her eye shape was deep-set, not close-set, her forehead was sharp, and the woman's forehead was curved.

She had the looks of one and of another. Not from the bad man, he was much uglier but from a man who looked to have been well off.

Is she...

Nicole gently pried the girl off of her and guided her way to me with a gentle push. She fiddled with her fingers and slowly but cautiously looked up at me, sending me greetings with a small wave.

"Samantha, this is Emma, your sister."