The colors of the beautiful flowers I had picked were so vivid, so bright, so entrancing. I loved picking flowers and organizing them into delicate, fragrant bouquets. I would walk around the town, pick a flower here, pick a flower there and when I was satisfied I would run to my father's house. When I arrived my face would be bright red, wet, and beaming happiness. I would skip into the kitchen, flowers in hand, and fill a small cup with fresh Lake Superior water. I would place the delicate flowers in the water and lovingly set the cup in the bright, sun-lit window above the sink.
When I heard my step mother walk down the stairs I would rush over to her, face still beaming. "Look at the flowers! Aren't they pretty?", I would ask excitedly.
She walked calmly and unimpressed to the flowers. "Yes, they're pretty.", she said in an even, flat tone. I didn't let her attitude make me sad or feel negative towards the flowers. Why would I? They made me so happy.
One day, I rode to the house with another bouquet of beautiful flowers in my bicycle basket. My bicycle was new and I loved it as much as my flowers. I loved its cool, teal color and the Hibiscus flower decals on the fender, it reminded me of my recently passed aunt. The bicycle made me feel close to her.
I didn't consider that the flowers would blow out of my basket as I rode, but they did. The flowers scattered on the sidewalk behind me. I stopped quickly and gathered the now limp, broken flowers. I looked them over, they were ruined. I put them back on the ground. I knew I would be able to pick more the next day.
As I continued to ride to my father's house the sun was blocked by angry, dark clouds. I was still happy though. The sun would be out the next day.
When I arrived at my the house, I put my beautiful bicycle in the basement. I walked upstairs into the main part of the house and there was a surprise visitor waiting in the dinning room. My step uncle was sitting at the table, smiling at me. I ran to him and gave him a big hug, he was only two years older than me but he was many inches taller. I loved my step uncle, he was a dear friend to me, almost like another brother. Our friendship felt so natural, and it should, we were so close in age. He was fourteen, I was twelve.
My step mother told me that he was staying for the rest of the day and night. My brother, step uncle, and I played videogames in the room they were sharing. It was just a few feet from mine. We started arguing playfully over which game to put in the console next. The argument turned into a wrestling match between my step uncle and brother, and then my step uncle and myself. That's normal, right? He had me pinned pretty quickly, he was stronger than me. The look in his eyes said he was hungry, wanting something. I felt terror surge through my body. The fine hairs on my arm were standing on end. No, this wasn't normal. He got up suddenly and popped his game into the console. I must have been imagining that look in his eyes, but the terror I felt was lingering.
That night, I told everyone that I was going to bed early because I had a headache. I kissed my father on the forehead and wished him a good night before I went upstairs to my room. I left the hall light on because I knew my brother and step uncle would need it to find their room. I shut the door, there was no light in my room except for a small sliver peeking out from under the door. I felt my way to my bed and snuggled under the covers.
I was on the edge of consciousness when I felt pressure on the bed next to me. That was normal, my father and step mother had dogs and they would sneak quietly into my room every now and then to sleep next to me. I slipped closer and closer to a dream with every passing second. Then I felt something that wasn't normal. Something wrapped around me, just below my chest. What was happening? I was so tired, my head hurt so bad. Something else covered my mouth. Something hot and wet, fleshy. I groaned in groggy protest and my eyes opened slowly as I was being pulled. What was going on?! My heart was beating fast, th-thump th-thump th-thump, th-thump th-thump th-thump, th-thump th-thump th-thump.
The thing below my chest was moving down, down, slowly. Everything seemed to move so slowly but my heart, it was pounding, TH-THUMP TH-THUMP TH-THUMP, TH-THUMP TH-THUMP TH-THUMP, TH-THUMP TH-THUMP TH-THUMP. It was still moving down, it wouldn't stop. I tried to scream, I couldn't hear it! What was happening to me?! WHY?! Hot tears flowed from my eyes steadily. I tried to see who was touching me, but my tears were blurring my vision and through the darkness, all I could see were shadows. Everything was happening so slowly... The thing started moving up, my nightgown coming with it. Moving up slowly, slowly.. That terror I felt earlier returned. Goose bumps rose high on my skin, the fine hairs on my arms and legs stood on end. I tried so hard to scream. I tried to scream for my father, my brother, my step mother, my step uncle, anyone that could hear. I was panicking, I wanted this to stop! Why wouldn't it stop?! STOP! The thing didn't care about my pleading, my senseless pleading. I squirmed and flailed like a defenseless fish out of water, trying to stop the terror. THU-TH-THUMP THU-TH-THUMP THU-TH-THUMP, THU-TH-THUMP THU-TH-THUMP, THU-TH-THUMP.
Finally my flailing was fruitful, I was able to get an arm loose and I swung it behind me, trying to hurt whatever wouldn't let me go. My hand connected with something, and just like that I was dropped back onto my bed. I watched in horror as the shadowy figure reached the light. I knew who it was...I knew it was my friend. My step uncle. I never went back to sleep, I watched the open door, hoping the light in the room would discourage him from returning. I cried hoarsely, my throat hurt so bad. I couldn't believe what had happened. Was it a dream? No, it wasn't, my misplaced nightgown and stinging hand were proof of that.
I observed that the flowers were limp and dull on the sidewalk as I rode past, it's raining. I only come out when it rains. The summer sun is too bright, too hot, too harsh. I would rather be under the dark, cold, rain clouds. I don't have to hide my sadness in the rain. The world I knew, that was full of color and beautiful things, is gone now. What is beautiful in the world anymore? When you feel so lonely, so ashamed, how can you think that anything is beautiful?