Through Glass(37)

It wasn’t my favorite, I had only seen my mother wear it a handful of times, but I didn’t care, it was perfect. If I closed my eyes I could see her green eyes flash in the mirror as she placed it around her neck, the jewel nestling low on her skin, shimmering against the light tan she always had.

I could remember her and that was all I wanted.

I didn’t put the necklace on; instead I shoved it in my pocket and moved to the closet, taking my father’s black motor cycle jacket off the floor. The leather was stiff from being forgotten for so long. I smoothed it out the best I could and pulled the relatively untouched jacket on, sliding my braid of red hair out from underneath the collar.

It was stiff against my skin and the silk lining was chilly. I let it cling to me as I slipped my feet into my father’s spare pair of work boots. The steal-toed monstrosities were heavy on my feet. I didn’t care that they were too big because they were big enough for what I needed them for.

I didn’t even look as I walked into my room. The creatures were still bleeding on the floor. The memories of the precious moments spent with Cohen still fresh in my mind.

I needed to get out of here. I had wasted too much time already. I crossed the room, grabbed the piece of candle, a few of the ink pens I had been stock piling and threw them into the bag.

I kneeled down and picked the battery up off the floor. Bringing the flickering light up onto my lap. I moved quickly, switching out one of the batteries for the new one, holding my breath as it snapped in place.

I flipped the light over, looking into the glowing box as it continued to flicker. The flicker was brighter, but I still wasn’t sure if the strength of the light was enough to keep the monsters at bay.

I needed to get the light working. I didn’t know what I would do if I didn’t. Light was my only sure fire weapon against them. While a bed rail seemed pretty effective, I could already feel my weak body protesting at having carried it for so long. Right now, I needed to find more batteries. It was my only chance at creating light.

My only chance of survival.

I attached the light to the back of my backpack, looping the clips that lined the sides of Travis’s pack onto the installation brackets of the light, shaking them to make sure it was sturdy. It wasn’t perfect, but it would have to do for now.

I stood up quickly and ripped two pictures off my walls. One was the picture of my whole family that we had taken at a photo studio that I thought had smelled like puke at the time. I removed the tape from the backing, careful to put the picture against the back of the backpack in an attempt to keep it straight. I kneeled on my bed as I removed the other; the one I had stared at every day for the past two years.

I couldn’t look at his smile as I shoved it in the backpack. I couldn’t see the joy in his eyes.

Not yet.

I would look someday when the pain had lessened and when the anger didn’t hurt. Right now, I needed to leave, to stay safe - to fight back. I had a bad feeling that Cohen’s picture would only make me want to stay with the pain a little longer.

I zipped the backpack up as I walked down the stairs. Two large water bottles weighed it down as I fought for balance on the dilapidated staircase.

“Good-bye, Frances,” I whispered as I walked out of the kitchen, not bothering to look at the empty shelf.

I needed food to take with me. Luckily, I had an idea as to where to get some and of where to find batteries that would hopefully keep me safe.

I walked into Cohen’s house, expecting to walk into a disaster zone. I clenched my muscles together as I tried to keep the pain away, letting my anger fuel me in an attempt not to feel.

I walked into the living room where broken couches were placed where I always remembered them, ripped carpets laid back down on the floor with care. The kitchen was as broken as mine, but everything had been returned to where it belonged. Stacks of broken cabinet fronts were placed against the wall, broken dishes piled back in place inside shelves.

I stared at it with my mouth hanging open as I moved from one room to another, each one the same. Each one a signal to the normalcy Cohen had tried to create, to the memories he had tried to keep alive. I had left everything the same, not bothering to repair the damage. I wallowed in regret, whereas Cohen had given himself hope.

I walked through the kitchen slowly, searching every shelf and cabinet, looking for the brown packets that would hold the disgusting bits of food I would need to survive. Broken dishes, stacks of cups. Everything else that made up a kitchen was here, everything but the one thing I needed.

Food.

There was only one other place where he would keep the packets, which was the one place that I really didn’t want to go. It wasn’t like I really had a choice. I needed the batteries, too, and they still sat on Cohen’s windowsill. I turned toward the stairwell slowly, my body tensing at the thought of walking into his room. Of seeing where he slept, seeing my room from the other side of the glass. I didn’t know if I was prepared for those memories, for those emotions.

Each step came slowly, my feet dragging as I pushed myself up the stairs, through the clean hallway and into a room full of a million green eyes staring at me.

My eyes.

My hand flew to my mouth as my face heated uncomfortably; the threatening tears unwelcomed. I couldn’t stop them, however, not with what I now faced.

His room was as clean as the rest of the house. Bed made, clothes folded, stacks of packets, rows of water, but the walls… the walls were covered.