Chapter III

"Could I have been anyone other than me?"― Dave Matthews

Dixie

It was too quiet. I've been awake for about three or so hours and the house is quiet. There was no mother shouting, no father arguing, no siblings running and crashing into the furniture. It was just quiet.

I rolled over to grab my phone from the nightstand table and saw new messages from Noah.

(3:45 am) Noah B: good morning. when you're up, let me know.

Me: I'm up now and good morning.

Noah B: get ready, we're going for a drive to our spot.

I almost forgot about that too. That's where he and I met. I was on the verge of killing myself at school, so I snuck out and ended up on the beach right behind the school gate. I needed to breathe or to be in a completely open space so I wouldn't self-destruct and hurt myself.

It was like a beach photo shoot for his mom's swimsuit company and he was there too. Not as a model, but as just there for support. They have a great bond and I'll always be a little bit envious of that. I'll never understand how a mother could wholeheartedly hate their child the way mine hated me. But I'm glad Noah didn't have that— he had two loving but very pressuring parents.

He saw me sitting in the sand and thought I was lost or hurt. I flinched when he came near as I thought I was about to get raped again and/or kidnapped but he just wanted to talk. I soon enough found out that he lived near my street and then we started getting a bit close to each other.

And now we're good friends— he's my only friend but he has dozens of friends or well acquaintances. People love him and they're always happy to be around. That's a sentiment I can share. I'm really always happy to be around him too. Sometimes I'm little too happy.

I got ready and made my way down the stairs. The house has been quiet, so I'm just hoping everyone's gone. No one's gonna care if I leave the house or not, it's just less inconspicuous and I feel less guilty that way.

"Dixie," my mother shouted as my foot landed on the bottom step. Shit.

"Hi." It felt awkward talking to her and being around her. It felt like I was speaking to a complete stranger and if it's really analyzed, that's what she is to me. A stranger.

She got up from around the dining table and started walking toward me. My heart was racing and my stomach turned at the thoughts rummaging through my mind. Was she about to hit me?

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I dryly responded. "I've got to go so I'll see you later." If she's here, which she probably won't be.

"Where to? And I hope you're not hanging with that boy? He's too old for you and you need to fi-"

"Just stop," I shouted, "When since have you cared  about what I do or who I talk to?" I stared blankly at her waiting for a response and she couldn't muster one up. "Exactly. I'll be going now."

"You're just fifteen," she shouted at me.

"And back then, I was just seven." She deadpanned. I could see the fear on her face and how pale she went.

She can't lecture me about age when she's never learnt to respect that. None of the adults I've lived with ever respected it. I may not have any control over my life, but I have just as much control of myself as she does. I'll be fine, I always am.

I brushed off the conversation earlier and made my way outside. Noah was parked up on the opposite side of the road. His brown shiny hair caught my eye first and then his green sweater. That's the one I bought him for his nineteenth birthday. He either wore it as a coincidence or he wore it for me. The last option was far fetched. I'm just trying to paint a scenario that will never be plus no one's about to do any of that stuff for me. 

I ran across the street with a huge smile on my face. He brought out a much happier side in me. A side that was only brought out by aunty Lauren. I miss her every single day and I hope she's okay. My biggest wish is that one day I'll get to tell her thank you for everything. I didn't have long with her but she gave me the best eight years of my life. Through all the pain and everything, there was her and just her. My real mother.

Shaking that thought off, I hopped into the car and he took off.

"You look nice," he complimented and looked at with  this cute but goofy grin on his face.

I smiled. "Thank you. I like your sweater."

"This girl I met a while ago gave me as a birthday gift. She's pretty cool," he said.

"Is she now?"

"The coolest," he said and giggled. This is either his way of flirting or he's just a natural flirt and everything he says comes off as flirting.

"So we're headed to the beach?" I asked.

"Yes, do you want to go? I should've asked you first before I-"

I cut his words off. "It's fine. It's better than staying cooped in my room."

"True."

•

The beach was about ten minutes away from my house and we got there in no time. Looking to the left, I saw my old school. It wasn't the happiest place on the planet, but I enjoyed learning. My lifelong dream is to become a psychologist and one day, help girls who had similar childhoods like mine.

"Don't worry about school," he said and brought me from my thoughts. I tend to get trapped in my head very easily. "You're not going back there but I got my dad to help you get into another school. On scholarship, you have perfect grades so it wasn't hard."

What. The. Fuck? "Noah." I sighed. "You don't have to. It's not your-"

"Take the fresh start. You deserve it. Everything's already done and you start on Monday of next week. Everything will be fine."

"I hope," I said under my breath and followed him. He said we were going to do something fun and I really don't know what that's supposed to mean. His definition of fun and mine are very different.

In the meantime, I made the mental note to ask him more about this school and everything. This was definitely a huge step and it's so pathetic. Things like these are to be done by my parents but yet, someone else's parents are doing them. It sucks. How can someone else care for me more than my own parents do? I always find myself asking this question. I'm wondering if I did something wrong growing up, or if I made some sort of mistake in my childhood that caused them to hate me this much.

My mom always complained that I stole her beauty and her spotlight. I took it as a joke most times but I'm starting to think that she's serious about it. Fuck my life.

"Here we are."

WOW. "Woah," I said in shock, "Is today a special holiday?" This was too nice for it to be a casual thing.

"Not a holiday but just something peaceful to enjoy. It's been rough for you and today, we're going to try and push you past that."

"Let's do it." Because why not?

Besides, a place that I enjoy going to is the beach.. I normally come here as a way to get away from all my troubles that are bothering me. To feel the grainy sand all under my toes. To sit there under the sun feeling the warmth of it beating down on my skin. To know that if I get too hot that I only have to walk about ten feet down until I get into the brisk cool ocean, and feel instant relief from the blistering sun. The beach would always be an escape for me. Noah didn't know this but he picked the best place to take me.

"Why'd you pick here?" I grabbed a slice of pizza and some sprite. He even got food set up. I'm not sure how or why but I won't even question it.

"It's where we met so I'd like to think it's a place with happy memories."

The thing with these gestures, is that they make me fall for him a million times deeper than I already have. To him, it's just a simple gesture, but to me, it's everything in the fucking world.

I just smiled at him and continued eating.

He sighed. "How are you from everything?"

That's a really good question. I don't remember anything much from the last year of my life. The only memories I have are when I'm getting wasted— or self harm. My brain can't recollect any other events. So, I go with my nuclear answer. "I'm fine."

He gaped his eyes at me but said nothing. I had a few thoughts of what were running through his mind but I kept my mouth shut. If he wasn't going to say it, I wasn't going to think it.

"Do you trust me?"

"I do." That was a partial lie. I don't wholly trust him— but it's not a personal thing— I don't trust anyone. Being constantly and repeatedly disregarded and betrayed in life, does that to you.

He shared a reassuring smile and started telling me a story about his mom. It felt good to hear him talk about her and the love she showed him. It kind of makes me feel a bit shitty because I wanted that for myself when I was younger, but it's too late for that now.

When I hear everyone talk about how much their parents loved them or how much fun they have with their dads— I can only keep quiet. The idea my father had for "fun" was nowhere near what it should've been.

"That's good," I whispered and swallowed my sprite. "You have lovely parents." And I meant that. He really did.

Analyzing my own life, my mom isn't the problem. Yes, she's vindictive and she knew what was happening but she was scared. My father isn't the best person to ever handle and he's very assertive. I've seen the way he handles her and I'm pretty sure he hits her and forces her into stuff.

While I can forgive her, I'll never justify the abuse she put on to me. The years of verbal abuse I suffered at her hand or how she knew of my trauma but chose to be silent. She should've been able to love me more than how much she hated my brokenness but I suppose it doesn't work like that.

Snapping myself from those thoughts, I went back to focusing on his words and enjoying the rest of the beach day. I really just wanted to go home, but I've already shouted at him once this week— twice is just a stretch.

•

As fun as the day was, it had to come to an end— an expected end but nevertheless, an end. Noah took me back home and I made my way upstairs. The house was empty as I expected it to be and I just hurriedly made my way to my bedroom.

Plopping down on the bed, I sighed. What was left to do? I had no friends. I barely had family and I was all alone with my thoughts eating me alive. I wondered what would happen next in my life or if there would even be a tomorrow.

Times like these, I miss Lauren. I miss the hugs and the love and quite frankly, everything. I wish I had her here with me. Wish I could count on her like I do now. The biggest pain in life is to lose your mother and I agree, Lauren is gone and I doubt I'll ever get her back.

There was an unexpected knock at my door and I jumped. Loud noises really scare me. "Hello?" I said faintly.

"It's me," the person said, twisting the door knob. "Mel."

Oh, it's my sister. Younger sister that is. Mel and I aren't so close but of everyone in my household, I like her the most. I'm glad she didn't get the abuse I did. She grew up the way I needed her to— two loving parents who would always support her. As much as I wanted that for myself, some things just didn't work out that way.

"Oh, hey, what's up?" This was awkward. I'm realizing I've never had an actual conversation with her and I don't know how to do this whole socialization thing.

"I just heard you came home and was wondering if you're okay. I'm sorry about what happened to you and I hope you like your room." Her tone remained genuine and low throughout her statement and that put me at ease.

But what did she mean by "I'm sorry about what happened to you". Did she find out about the rape and the abuse? My head started spinning. I know it's not something to be ashamed of but I find deep embarrassment in knowing all of this.

"What do you mean by what happened to me?" My tone came off more aggressive than it should've but she didn't seem fazed by it at all.

"Being in the hospital," she quickly answered. "Can I come inside? Or is it a bad time?"

I gave her the go ahead and she sat down on the edge of my bed, twirling her fingers. At least I know that we've got the same behaviors when we don't know what to do.

"How have you been doing?" Thirteen year olds these days are very inquisitive I see.

"I've been hanging on." I didn't want to lie to her, so I used the nuclear response and either way, she's too young to question it.... Or at least so I told myself. "How are you?"

"I'm fine. I missed you when you were um sick. We aren't like best friends but you're still my sister." That was extremely comforting to hear. I don't think a person I have blood related to has ever been that loving towards me, except my grandparents. It's weird but it's a good feeling.

We sat down talking for some more and she filled me in on things about her. She talked about what she liked doing in school, how she got her first period and didn't know what to do and what was shocking, was how she talked about mom. It was like she's describing a person I've never met in my life.

How can two persons be grown by the same people but have different perspectives?

"She sounds so....great," I whispered, mainly talking to myself. The woman and man she described sounded like people I wish I'd met but not all of us are so fortunate.

She placed her hand on my leg and I flinched. She didn't notice the flinch— Thankfully but it scared me. "I've got to go do homework before mom gets back, I'll talk to you later okay? I love you."

She leapt up from bed and left. I didn't bother responding to her because I didn't know what to say.  The time was getting late and I decided to sleep— no greater escape than that.

My eyes glanced over to the very present stash of alcohol I had put down but I fought the urge. Here's to new beginnings. Or maybe, the new chance but same cycle.