Memories Unleashed[Cici]

Freya thought for a moment: did she have anything here that she really cared about? Nothing came to mind, at least not at first. She didn't really care about her parents, she had no genuine friends, and no riches could hold her down. Though, just because she didn't care about her life here, were there actually people who cared about hers? The memories started flooding in.

~~~~~

Freya slowly opened the back door, carefully and quietly. No sound: that was good. She entered the silent house, making sure to keep on her toes. It wasn't just any old house; it was her house. Freya quickly closed the door, glancing around the kitchen, but seeing no one. She sighed in relief as she slipped her shoes off. She had been away for nearly a day: she had run away, tried to find an escape from her life. But of course, she was back. Was she really strong enough to run away permanently? Freya wasn't sure.

She wondered if her parents had even noticed her leave. Were they even home? Were they waiting for her nervously? She assumed they were in bed, for it was late at night; they couldn't care less about where she wandered off to during the day. She wondered where the Avoxes were? Asleep, maybe? Though, the house was big, so they could be anywhere. A sickening feeling settled in Freya's stomach. Freya took a few steps into the kitchen, observing the silence. She wondered how silence could seem so mystical, and so magical to some people, while to her, silence was just too dull. Silence was like a waste of what could be words. To Freya, it seemed as though silence was never beautiful. How could it be? She had enough of it, day to day.

Quickly, Freya made her way to the living room, ready to take the stairs up. Though, when she reached the room, she stopped. Her mother was sitting on the couch. As soon as Freya walked in, her mother jumped up, her hands on her hips. "Where have you been?" She shouted. Freya looked around, trying to grasp an answer. She had never expected to have her mother waiting for her; her mother was nothing like that.

"I dunno. Having fun, I suppose. Teenage girls need that, you know." Freya looked at her mother, directly in the eyes. She wouldn't look away; she couldn't. Her mother was waiting for it, wasn't she?

"Frey," her mother said. "You tell me where you've been. I've been worried sick!"

"Why?" Freya shouted. "Because you're afraid that I'll 'ruin your reputation?' You're not worried about me; all you're worried about is yourself! You don't even care! I'm just another burden, another accident in your life!" Freya felt the heat building inside her, each word creating a larger pit of emptiness in her stomach. It was killing her inside, but she wasn't going to let any of the tears out: not now, not ever for that matter. She ran from the room, wanting a quick escape up the stairs. Though, as she mounted the first step, her mother grabbed her arm.

"Frey," her mother whispered. Freya stopped, looking at her mother momentarily. She could see the sea of tears, hidden behind her mother's glassy eyes: glass so close to breaking. Though, Freya kept guilt from hitting her. She couldn't; she knew her mother didn't care. Her mother deserved to feel this way. "Frey, I do care. I love you." Freya didn't know how to respond in that moment. She couldn't tell if what her mother was saying was just a lie, or complete truth. But in a moment, she had made up her mind. "You don't love me...." she scowled, quickly pulling her arm away. Then, without another moment's glance, she rushed up the stairs to her room.

~~~~~


Freya felt a sudden pang of guilt hit her stomach, but she immediately wiped the feeling away. Her parents didn’t love her…did they? Those were merely words, which her mother had used. Words could be deceiving, and Freya wasn’t ready to fall to the low level of deception. She wasn’t ready to be vulnerable; not yet. For the next few seconds, she forced herself to think of all the things she hated about her parents. Thinking about her mother’s few words, her mother’s concern with her the last time she had tried running away: they hurt. They burned like fire, like regret that piled up more and more with time. Freya looked away, feeling tears at the edge of her eyes. She had to convince herself that they didn’t care; she knew that then, and only then, would the pain go away. She had to leave without them…she couldn’t stay here, could she?

They don’t care. They don’t care. They don’t care. She repeated the words over and over in her head, until they were stuck there. Sadly, but surely, she felt more confident knowing that it was true. She could do this…she was strong enough to leave, right? Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea though. That regretful feeling in her stomach was telling her she wasn’t so sure.

Freya looked up at Kormiko, trying to figure out how to answer his question. Without thinking, she decided to blurt. She needed to blurt, to keep her thoughts in order. Thinking only made it worse. “No,” she said quickly. “My parents don’t care about me. I don’t care about them. At this point, I don’t care about anyone. I want out…” She realized how unsure her voice had been, but yet, how cold her tone had sounded. It was like a mix of insecurity and total confidence: two very different things, two opposite things in fact, yet two things that had somehow managed to fit together. If she had to live with regret, so be it. Anything to be free from this place at last; anything to be free from the life that she wanted to desperately to leave behind. Once again, Freya felt rash, dangerous, and immature. But she couldn't care less. Even the doubt that was swelling inside her, was miniscule in comparison to the big imaginative idea that was consuming her. But the doubt....it was still there. Was this really right?