Fiction- Short story- Alone together

Alone Together

I am falling, falling. Falling into darkness.

The caramel glow from the streetlight captures the dust particles that dance about me; their unexpected movements captivate my 10-year-old imagination and I forget to blink. My innocent mind foolishly fears the monster under the bed instead of the true one in my lounge room. I hear him. His angry voice trying to break through the thin walls. Crying, I shield under my blankets. I pray they will protect me from the caving roof of a house, ready to implode.
Silence. Peeling back my blanket, my small feet fall to meet the filthy floor. With each step, I come to realise they have not stopped, simply moved outside. The arguing grows louder as I leave my room; it is no longer a muffled abomination of anger, but a drunken splurge of belligerence and swearing. A car door slams and the roar of an engine echoes from the street. My mother heaves herself back inside and sprawls onto the sofa. As I run past her, I ignore the fresh bruising that colours her pale face. I reach the front porch and scream as I see the rusty Holden sputtering to life. It seems to take forever to back down the driveway, yet as fast as I run I cannot reach it. My legs give way beneath me. This time, I know he is leaving forever; he is never coming back. Through the blinding headlights, I make out his silhouette. He pauses. I watch him stare at me, his daughter, on her knees, begging him to stay. He guns the motor and leaves me, residue from a life he no longer wants.

My thoughts had no curfew. Like a neglected child searching for some satisfaction, they grew restless and scraped the edges of my skull, their pounding penetrated through my temple. As it did every night, the overwhelming fear that I was alone, struck my heart. I clutched my chest, almost as if the pain were a physical manifestation that I could tear out. A trickle of tears cascaded down my face, clung to the curve of my cheek, and eventually surrendered to gravity. The silence generated a sense of melancholy in the atmosphere, allowing memories of that night to whirl into operation. In desperate need of a distraction, I swung my bare feet over the bed; they met the dusty ground with a shiver. Sitting at my lone window seat, I watched as the raindrops journeyed down the window, occasionally colliding before leaving silvery trails across the panes. Yellow light bordered my bedroom door and seeped through its cracks, glazing the window glass with a deceivingly warm hue. I caught myself in the reflection; pale blue eyes completely void, dormant. The only emotion noted was the sadness swirling in each flecked maze of my irises, and the heightened fear that strained the rims of my pupils. The droplets became plump with heavier rain and coursed rapidly against the glass; I willed them to wash away the menacing memories of my father. My spine cowered at the mere thought of him, and my trembling hands instinctually curled into a ball. I allowed my nails to dig into my palm releasing a slight sting. I continued, even when I smelled the metallic warning and felt the sticky warmness of blood. Still, the voices taunted me…
“He drank because you could not make him happy.”
“He left you because you are worthless - what else was he supposed to do?”
“Your own father chose to forget you – who else is going to want to remember you?”
I was falling, falling. Falling into darkness.
A scream clawed its way up my throat and released itself into the darkness. My mind burned and writhed, assaulted by my unleashed emotions. The door creaked open. A marmalade hue poured into the room along with the shadow of my mother. Her eyes caught the light – two murky puddles reflecting the glare of moonlight. A hint of silver, growing down the side of her thinning hair, framed her strained face. I looked at her, as I had not done in a long time. I saw the vulnerability carved into the curvature of her spine, the worry saddled upon her shoulders. I saw my own pain reflected in the tentativeness of her approach, my own loneliness harboured in the downcast tilt of her head. She had been torn and ripped at every edge, yet I could still see the masterpiece. She wrapped her arms around me, showered me with all of her pity, and spared herself none. Guilt consumed me as she apologised to me, over and over. Apologised to me, for the sins of my father. I breathed in the smell of menthol cigarettes and forget-me-not perfume, as I buried my face into her worn, pink cardigan. Her shaking hands sought the sides of my face, I watched as her lips quivered and struggled to find the right words to fix me, to take my pain and carry it with her own. Our eyes met and in that moment, I realised that I had forgotten her, blamed her; abandoned her as my father abandoned me. She had never left my side, only he did. He had broken us both, damaged us. Yet, he had left us each other.

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