A Fate Renewed

I sat in the chair quietly, laying my head down on the counter, watching the rain pour down for the fourth day in a row. As if Mother Nature herself were mourning the end of summer. The weather was beginning its transition as the cool autumn air blew in, making the rain crisp and heavy. I wasn’t someone who minded, living in a small town surrounded by trees and mountains. The rain gave me something to watch, something to focus on other than the day-to-day life of working. “At least it’s Friday.” I mumbled to myself. I worked every day at the corner store except Sundays, those were my days, the one day a week I get to be on my own. I would fill my backpack up with supplies and ride my bicycle to the trailhead ten minutes away from my home. We lived in a sleepy town named Oakridge that only revived during the winters. That’s when wealthy families with too much time and money would come back for their annual ski trip, posting about it on social media so everyone could see just how much greater their lives were than everyone else’s. During the winters I would take up two jobs and work at the ski lodge, my father had once been a ski instructor there so his work was seasonal. It was just me and my father now, my mom had passed away ten years ago this week, and a part of me wondered if that’s why it rained so much. The hardest thing was trying to remember who she was before the cancer came, my clearest memories seemed to be filled with hats and sweaters in the middle of July, pill bottles that littered the counters, and a hospital wristband that seemed to become her everyday accessory, her scent being sterile and her eyes dull. My dad never talked about her anymore, the thought of losing the person you were destined for, the one some would call soul mates, my dad once believed it to be true. He had told me stories of how they met and how the moment he saw her, he knew she was the one, they were only sixteen at the time, still kids he would say. Three years later they would have me and another nine, my mom was gone. She fought cancer for four years, eventually the cancer won, taking her away from us and leaving our family broken in return. Fourteen years with her wasn’t long enough for him, he felt like the world screwed him over and in that case, he would return the favor, hatred towards life fueled him, his own daughter not exempt. It took three months for him to stop trying, mourning her was all he did, that and drinking. The life insurance she left behind was spent on alcohol and gone quicker than we ever thought possible. Forcing me to get my own job at the age of fourteen. Once my dad turned to drinking, the anger and aggression began, a few times a week he would lash out. Yelling harsh words that seemed to bruise worse than the physical violence. Hitting me where he knew it wouldn't be visible. Even in a drunken rage he was still deliberate. Luckily he had a few friends that helped manage his addiction, taking me to school most mornings and dragging my bike along so I could ride it back home in the evenings. How we survived those years was pure luck, but I always like to think it was my mom watching over me, at least that was my way of coping, believing she was with me still to this day, hoping she would be proud of who I was becoming. I tried to be kind to those around me, especially to my father who gave his best effort to turn me against it all. He even turned on my own mother, how he would blame her for everything, for leaving him here in this world without her alone to raise an ungrateful daughter by himself. My father, Robert Lockwood, was known by the town as the man who frequented the taverns more than his own home. The times he was home, he would be completely wasted, usually with a woman leaving the house just as I would be coming in. We didn't have much, but considering I was the only one working it was better than nothing. It had been that way for the past three years. My father had been let go because he continued to show up to work drunk, we lived off of whatever money was left from my mom and what I would make at the store. Our house was a small cottage towards the middle of the mountain, thirty minutes away from the ski lodge and fifteen from the corner store. The owners, Mr. And Mrs. Anderson, had known my mother since she was a kid. They had been there for me during some of my roughest times with my father, threatening to take me away from him more than once. That's when he began to hide the abuse better, buying me baggy clothes and never hitting me where it was visible. It wasn't always bad, he would get clean and sober, a glimpse of his old self shining through, and then it would spiral out of control by the first year. The abuse would begin again and the drinking would come back.. He was my father and my only living family, if I hadn't stayed, who knows what worse things could've happened. Besides, the abuse wasn't daily, only when I did things to upset him. The times that were the worst were when he used the belt, how the rage filled his eyes, as if he wished me dead, wondering why it couldn't have been me who died instead of my mother, he could of at least lived with that. What he was doing now was not living, it was destroying anything that reminded him of her, including his own daughter. That Friday the sun was just beginning to set and I began restocking a few shelves. The store's door chimed loudly, causing me to glance over my shoulder, not seeing anyone walk by, I figured whoever it was had gone straight to the counter. "I'll be right there!" I shouted quickly, placing the last box on the shelf. Suddenly, I felt someone behind me, their hands reaching past my body and pressing up against me. I froze in place, glancing at the hand in front of me, knowing exactly who it belonged to, Jacob Peters. I had gone to school with him since we were kids, but this summer he began frequenting the store more and more, sometimes multiple times a day. His other hand rested on the small of my back causing me to snap my head back and quickly step to the side, stiffening from his touch. "Sorry Amira, was just trying to reach something." He whispered before reaching above my head and slowly grabbing a box of matches. The smirk that appeared on his face making me feel physically ill. Jacob had been showing interest in me since the spring. I tried to be polite but this guy just couldn't take a hint. I nodded swiftly and walked back to the register, making sure the counter was safely between us before placing a bland smile on my face, trying not to give him too much attention. Jacob put the matches down, along with a soda he grabbed from the cooler. I made quick work to scan them, trying to hurry up the process while he stood there watching me intently. His bright red hair was hidden under a brown trucker's hat that matched his eyes perfectly His cheeks were covered in freckles that lifted with the smirk that now sat on his lips. He wasn't a bad looking guy, his personality just ruined all of it. "So, when are we going out?" Jacob asked cockily, surprising me as my hand froze in place momentarily. Here we go..I sighed deeply and looked up at him. I just had to put a stop to this once and for all. "Sorry Jacob, I'm not interested, I'm not looking to date anyone right now." I said as nicely as possible, but still tried to get the point across. He chuckled softly, reaching a hand towards me and causing me to stiffen immediately. To my horror, Jacob took a strand of my brown hair in-between his fingers and began twirling it. "Maybe you just haven't dated the right guy, Amira, rumor is you haven't even dated at all." He leaned much closer now, his warm breath close to my cheek. "They say you are a virgin, is it true?" He whispered, making my skin crawl. I could feel my cheeks setting ablaze as they must be burning bright red now and that seemed to be all the answer he needed. Just then Mr. Anderson walked in, his arms full of boxes as Jacob hastily placed five dollars on the counter before winking at me. "We can talk about this more later, see you around Mir." Jacob said mischievously before glancing back at me one last time while walking to his truck. Thank god...seems like Mr. Anderson saved me, yet again. I don't know why, but I have a feeling Jacob is far from done with this..