5. Memories

How come the truth is the only thing we despise? The only thing we wish to know and be oblivious to at the same time. 

The bell rang. Kristina rushed into the classroom and threw her bag on the floor tiredly before sitting down.

All three were in their senior year of high school. However, Kristina ended up in a different classroom this year. She felt lonely without the brightness the duo brought to her days.

Kristina stared blankly at the blackboard, slowly filling up with text.

"Symbiotic relationships between species don't include exclusively beneficial relationships. One of the forms of symbiosis is also parasitism. However, not only-"

Kristina felt sleepy. She felt like with every word, new definition, a scratch of the chalk against the blackboard - her eyelids became heavier. 

"Mutualism is a relationship in which both species mutually benefit from the symbiosis-"

She fell asleep.

Dreams were peaceful by most, not remembered by many, and haunting for some. And Kristina's dreams? 

As Kristina opened her eyes, she sat on a tiny bed in the darkness of an almost empty room. The sentiment of her childhood self washed over her like a wave.

'Am I dreaming?' - flashed across Kristina's mind as if this realization would change something.

Most of the species on Earth are parasites. Kristina couldn't help but think of herself as one. She tied down her mother with needs and wants. How could she consider herself as more than a being living off another? 

The first night, ten years ago, when Kristina slept in this unfamiliar house, she overheard a conversation; she wasn't supposed to be awake. Much more aware of the hidden truth. However, she couldn't fall asleep, no matter how much she tried.

"What are you talking about?"

It was Millen's voice. She stood in the hallway on a call with somebody. 

Kristina saw her going in circles through the half-closed door.

"Why did you do it, Dad? I told you, I told you it got better."

Kristina left the bed and snuck closer to the door, hidden in darkness.

"No... You listen to me! It wasn't that bad - you didn't have to kill him!"

As Kristina heard the word kill, her mind went blank. This one word kept her from going back to bed. This one word and the urgency in her mother's voice kept her eyes wide open. 

Silence. A long silence fell before her mother spoke again.

"An accident? You only wanted to scare him? Can you hear yourself, Dad? You killed my husband! I-I'm tired. I can't... can't understand."

Kristina pressed her hand over her mouth, suppressing the overwhelming urge to flee the room and confront her mother about this. Did her grandfather truly cause her dad's death?

Millen leaned on the wall and slid down. She sat there, back pressed against the cold wall, eyes closed.

"You killed Kristina's dad. That girl is scarred for life just because you couldn't stay put."

Kristina bit her lip. There was no doubt.

Millen sighed, her voice quivered as she spoke again.

"Don't cry - leave this act for someone else, Dad. Be glad I didn't report you."

Millen ended the call, shaking with sobs, curled up in a fetal position.

Kristina shouldn't be awake. She tiptoed back to the bed. Her mother always said that there are certain things kids should never hear - this was one of them. She climbed back to bed and hid her whole little body under a blanket. Her pillow wetted, cries muffled - swallowed by the darkness of night. 

The class was over. A sharp ringing of a school bell woke Kristina. Her head throbbed.

The classroom was lively. One of Kristina's classmates approached her.

"Hey, do you want to pair up on the presentation?"

Kristina lifted her head. 

"Oh, you don't know? The teacher assigned them before she left, and you're the only one without a partner, so..."

Kristina glanced around.

"Why not?" she agreed, still in a daze from her dream.

"Then, I'll text you. We can meet up and-"

Kristina never knew the truth about her dad's death. She only heard the simplified version of the story - a story about a cowardly driver who left her dad in a wrecked car to succumb to his wounds. Not the one about her grandpa accidentally killing him.

Kristina knew her mother kept things from her. Things she should've known.

'Some things are best left forgotten, dear. Don't pry.' - Kristina's mother would say, never one to overshare. Growing up, Kristina found such sentiments increasingly frustrating; her mother possessed a surplus of sayings like this.

Kristina looked around the classroom. She saw some girls gossiping and giggling about the silliest things, guys playing a group game on their phones, shouting at each other, a quiet kid diligently doing their homework.

'How can so many different people coexist in one place?'

Kristina sighed, and the bell rang again, signaling the start of the next period.

Her head was a mess.