anx-i-e-ty

anx·i·e·ty

aNGˈzīədē/

noun

Lydia Hazzard- Leal.

For my two chubby cats that always sit on my lap

Copyright 2015

Maple Leaf Writing Project

Brattleboro, Vermont

.

I was running, running with her, in the cold windy night. She was holding my hand. My heart beating. Hers too. She was slowing down but I was still running. She was crying for me to run, I wanted to save her. But there was nothing to do.

I quickly sat up, tears rolling down my cheeks, my heart beating, my body tense and my head aching. Breathing heavily I pulled the blankets off of my legs. I went down the dark stairs into the hallway watching for the creaking wood panels. To not wake up my father. My throat itched. In the kitchen I quickly drank a glass of water. I sat down on the kitchen chair looking at the empty glass. Feeling empty. Just like the glass. I crept back to my bedroom, pulled the covers over me. I lied there, under the blankets trying not to fall asleep.

Next day, Morning

I pulled the covers off of me and walked to the kitchen. I walked to where the glass was from last night and filled it up. I sat down on the high kitchen chair placing the glass on the marble table. My father rushed in.

“Quin! There you are. I thought you were still in bed,” my father smiled.

Ignoring his comment I replied, “where are you going and why such a rush?” I snacked on an apple.

“Downtown. I have to go to the market.” My father creaked the door open and turned around “I know with your mother gone its been hard for you…And I think it would be good that maybe you could make some new friends or maybe sign up for some Art classes.”

His positive attitude killed me. “I have friends...”

“You know what I mean Quin. I love you. If you need anything call me,” he smiled. He kissed the top of my head and walked out the door. I quickly grabbed my bag and my sweatshirt, I put the glass in the dishwasher and unplugged my ipod and headed out the back

door. I slowly jogged down the street. I started to hesitate about sneaking out, but I knew that

it was worth it. I looked at my watch trying to remember what time I was meeting Kasy. I lived close to downtown so I could easily walk down. I didn't mind getting out of the house, even if its was brutal out. I noticed Kasy standing there with her over-sized sweatshirt and skinny jeans, her backpack and a folder in her hands . She turned around when she noticed me and quickly waved and walked toward me. You could see her breath drift through the wind. She quickly smiled.

“Hey...thanks for meeting me here!” I said.

“Yeah anytime!” Kasy smiled. We started walking.

“What time is your father coming back?” Kasy asked.

“Around...an hour or so.”

“So where are we going?”

“Library,” I quickly said. Kasy stopped,looked at me and laughed.

“You’re joking.” Her laugh frightened me.

“No…”

“Quin...I'm not spending my Sunday trying to find something...that’s not here!”

Her voice shattered through me.

“Fine I will…” my voice trembled. I felt like I was about to cry.

“Quin I’m sorry!” she shouted. I was already a street in front of her.

I didn't want to hear from her. But I understood how she felt. Disappointment was one of the things I hated most. I kept walking down the road. My hands shoved in my pockets, the

Vermont wind made my cheeks red, cold and deeply miserable. I had a frown on my face, tears were trying to burst out but my heart was not letting them. I started to worry if I would see my father downtown. Quickly I went into the library and waited at the desk.

“Hi um… I was wondering if you have a database of scanned newspapers?” I asked.

“Yup,” she said with a side smile. She walked quickly, almost like I should of not asked. She led me to a room upstairs with three computers.

“Here you go , these are research only computers. They have databases of all archived material including newspapers and historical documents. You have a half an hour and if you have any questions...come to the front desk.”

“Thanks.” I quickly sat down on the stool and started typing I looked for the year 2012, April third.

“Thats the one..” I muttered. I closed my eyes and hit “enter”. The paper came up on the screen. “Murder on the Street” was the title. I kept looking at the title, reading it over and over, like I didn't know what language it was in. Even though I've seen it before in my father's bedroom. I scrolled up and down looking for an answer. Nothing. 2012, April 6. “Mystery Solved?” the title came up. “Thats it!... The answers are right in front of me.”

“Times up,” the cheeky librarian said.

“Yes thanks.” I printed the article out and shoved it into my pocket. I walked out the library's door and headed back home.

The House

My father wasn't home yet but I knew he would be soon, so I had to act fast. I ran upstairs, pulled out a big box from under my bed and opened it. I pulled out a big book filled with articles I have been collecting since my mother’s death. Clink went the door lock.

“Oh no, he’s home.” I quickly stuffed the paper inside my book and threw the book into the box and shoved it under my bed.

“Quin, I'm home!” he said from downstairs.

“Did anyone call?” he shouted

“I dont know,” I shouted back. I walked down the hardwood stairs.

“I got eggs, milk and...” his phone interrupted.

“Sorry honey let me take this.” He grabbed his phone out of his pocket and ran upstairs to his bedroom. I took the food out of the bag. Suddenly I heard my father whispering, like he didn't want me to hear what he was saying, which was exactly what I was trying to do. I put the milk in the fridge and tiptoed half way up the stairs. Then I heard,

“What can I do? She has been dead for two years ... I know...I will give you the....Ok...

Ok...bye.” He hung up the phone. I quickly tiptoed down the stairs into the kitchen. “Quin, what do you want for breakfast?” he said coming down the stairs.

“I’m not hungry…”

“Ok...well I’m going to work upstairs…” He walked up the stairs slowly. When he closed his bedroom door I ran up the stairs and locked my door. I pulled out the box and the book. There I had papers saying who was at the crime scene, what weapons were used and all sorts of things. But then I realized my father’s name was in the witness list. His name seemed to jump out at me. Why had I never seen this before?

As I read his name my stomach felt nauseous and my mouth felt dry. I always thought it was a possibility that my father was involved with my mother's murder. But I never wanted to think it was true. After her death he had been really secretive, like he was keeping something away from me.

Knock knock.

“Quin? Are you in there?”

“Yeah...just a second.” I put all the scattered papers from the floor into the book and shoved everything under my bed. I unlocked the door to let him in.

“Why are you keeping your door locked?” he questioned.

“To keep the heat in.” My terrible excuses.

“What did you do while I was gone?”

“Watch TV.”

“I can make some breakfast for you if you would like,” he said while walking down the stairs. He left the door open. I guess it was a sign to go downstairs. Instead I ran to his room and opened the door. Nothing. I looked under his bed, in his drawers. Nothing. I finally looked in the back of his closet. There he had stacks and stacks of newspapers. I stepped away from the bundles of papers and sat down on the carpet. I reached my hand into the closet and pulled out a strapped up bundle of papers and put them in my shirt and ran to my room.

“Quin? What are you doing?” he questioned from downstairs.

“Nothing” I yelled down nervously.

“Nothing means something,” he said coming up the stairs.

“Oh, I forgot to close his door,” I whispered to myself.

“Quin, were you in my room?” I could tell by his voice he was upset.

“Looking for...a pencil” I said.

“Why is my closet door open?”

A small pause.

“Looking for one of your old ties.”

“Why is my closet door open?” like he didn't believe me.

“I told you I was looking for a tie.”

“Ok, then why are there newspapers scattered around my room?”

My eyes widened, I had to think fast.

“Why do you have stacks of newspapers in your closet about mother’s death?”

He walked into my room.

“Why do you care...stay out of my room and my business,” he said with a bit of anger. He slammed my door and huffed down the stairs.

Next day, School

I hurried out into the living room and quickly snatched my bag from the dining room chair. I ran out of the door into the harsh weather. As soon as I was a block away I knew I had made a mistake about my choice of sweat shirt. My cold hands stuffed into my sweatshirt

pockets. The warm breath of air turned into ice as I Huffed and puffed down the the street.

School, Kasy

“Quin!” Kasy said running up to me

“What?”

“I want to apologize for the other day,” she said trying to catch her breath

“For what?” I shot back at her almost interrupting.

“ Nevermind… we are going to be late for class if we don't hurry up.” She said grabbing her books out of her bag.

“Yeah,” I said taking out my books.

Home

“Quin is that you?” my father said from the other room.

“Yeah,” I mumbled.

“Can I talk to you?”

“What about?” I said.

“I’m really sorry for what I said yesterday...I didn't mean to yell at you.”

“It’s fine”

“But I do...after your mother’s death...I have been trying to find answers about what happened to her, and those calls are to investigators and private detectives. All I want is to find the answers. I didn't want to tell you this because...I thought you would not want to find out, just to keep it in the past. I’m sorry, I won’t try anymore if you dont want me to.” He walked into the living room. What was I supposed to say, I couldn't just let it slide . I threw off my bag and ran up the stairs. I took my jacket off and pulled out the book and ran back to the living room.

“Here,” I said trying to catching my breath.

“What is this?”

“My book. I have been keeping articles about mom ... and who was at the scene. Even ... the weapons.” I was still trying to catch my breath. He quickly sat up from the leather couch and took the book and rummaged through it.

“Oh, wow this is great...when did you have time to get all this stuff?”

“Um well…”

“Doesn’t matter...let me grab the papers and articles, while you clean the table.” He ran up the stairs and back down.

“Ok, ready?”

“Yup.” I said cheerfully

“Ok, so there were four witnesses.”

“Wow really? That’s a lot… before we start… I hate to ask, it says that you're on the witness list. Is that true?” I asked.

“Yes...but no...I was running to get your mother...but I was hit in the back of my head and didn't recover until it was too late.”

Next morning

We both fell asleep at the table, with at least six different cups of coffee next to us. I woke up and looked at the clock.

“Oh gosh! I’m going to be late for school.” I shouted, which woke up my father.

“You're not going to to school,” he said while still having his head on the table.

“Why not?” I said, sitting down smiling.

“Because we have to find out who did this and why he or she did it,” he said.

“Ok... should I tell Kasy to get my homework for me?”

“Why?”

“So...nevermind.”

“Ok. I’ll start breakfast while you keep working,” he said

“Sounds good but let me change into my pjs.” I had my jeans on from last night. I ran up the stairs. Then suddenly I had a weird thing like deja vu or a flash back. it went like: “ hurry up!! we have no time for this Anne!” I was used to flash backs and creepy dreams so I wasn't scared of it. Just what did it mean though? I walked down the stairs wearing my pjs and sat and the table.

“So who is our closest suspect?”

“Well..there's around six people that were at the crime scene”

“Let me call the Investigator he may have a better idea.”

“Yeah, that makes sense…” I said walking to the phone”

“Good I’ll call him up right now”

He called the investigator and talked to him about what we had realized in the past twenty four hours. He was excited. He was happy that we found out new information. But he said that its still not enough information to tell exactly who it is. When he said that sentence it was the feeling of having an empty gap in your soul. Its was like having someone burn you alive. It was horrible, terrible and it felt like I would never move on. But we did moved on, we missed her and stilled loved her, but we moved on.