Thorns

Chapter 2: Memories

The hot sun fans my neck, spreading warmth down my body all the way to the tip of my toes. Laughing, I run towards Molly’s house. She said I could come over anytime, though I rarely did. Mom went out to work today, even though Sundays were her off days, “our days,” as she called them. She begged me to stay in, and we could have a picnic together when she got home tonight. I tried but couldn’t do it. The sun is too bright, it is too beautiful to stay in. Mom will be mad, I know, but she will forgive me. 

Molly is outside, swinging her leg over a shiny pink bicycle. I always wanted a bicycle, but Mom says walking is more fun anyway. 

“Rose,” she calls, looking down the driveway, “you came!” She waves enthusiastically. I return the action. 

Her father comes out, probably wondering who Molly was talking to. “Hey, Rose,” he smiles, “it's been a while.” 

I smile, walking up towards them. “Mom had to work today,” I relay the message I’ve been practicing the whole walk over, “she hoped you wouldn’t mind me staying over for a few hours.” 

A smile breaks out across Molly’s face, “Of course you can stay,” she shouts before turning to her father. “Daddy,” Molly bats her eyes in his direction, “can Rose barrow Ally’s bike?” My palms begin to sweat, Mom will be even more upset if she finds out. Another part of me, the bigger part, was eager to try. At twelve, there is so much I want to try, that I haven’t yet. So, when Mr. Williams wheels out Molly’s sister’s bike, I eagerly agree. 

And I catch on quickly, even Molly is impressed. Soon, the two of us are flying up and down the sidewalk streets. The wind blows through my hair, and I feel alive. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt this free before, or if I ever will again. I think I am going to ask mom for a bike for Christmas this year. She was wrong, it’s fun, not dangerous. 

Looking ahead, I see a large c***k on the sidewalk. Molly leans in, as if focusing on the spot. Instead of avoiding it, she speeds up, aiming her wheels in its direction. She zooms forward, her wheels lifting slightly before landing on the ground once more. “Whee,” she lets out, a look of exhilaration plastered to her face. She whips her head backward, “your turn!” 

Just as determined, I square my shoulders and aim my tires at the large c***k. My breath catches, Mom will be livid, and I hesitate. Without thinking, I jerk the handlebars to the left, making my bike swing sideways. The edge of the tire hits the c***k, sending me flying into the cement. The corners of my vision go dark, as I hear a panicked Molly shouting, “Rose! Stay awake,” her red hair flies around her as she frantically searches for her cell. I hear her voice, fainter, a final time, “Rose!” 

I wake with a jolt, the dream starting to feel like a distant memory. It is, in a way. I remember the terror in Mom’s eyes when she picked me up from the Williams. She had, apparently, insisted on picking me up and taking me to the hospital herself. “Don’t ever,” she had said in a harrowing whisper, “put yourself in harm's way again.” I can only imagine if she were alive now. I was her whole world, or rather, we were each other's. This would kill her all over again.  

I look around, still blind in the blackness of my cage. Why am I here? I hope someone comes soon, or maybe that would be worse, I’m not sure. All I know is that I am tired of the secrecy. My entire life has been sheltered, for whatever reason. Maybe soon I’ll get some answers. I feel water drip onto my folded arms. Raising my hand to meet my cheek, I feel just how damp they are. My fingers feel sticky, likely from smeared mascara.  

I don’t know how long I’ve been here. I could have been asleep hours or maybe even a day. A sinking feeling hits me as a horrible thought slithers its way into my mind, what if I’m here forever?  I don't know how it is possible to cry harder than I already am, but I somehow manage. My sobs, dampened by the padded walls, prove just how alone I am. Not even my echo answers.