Hating Hades

C H A P T E R 1 - Dilara.

I sat upright in bed, my chest heaving up and down as I tried to regain my breath, as I tried to calm down. Instinctively—as it always did—my hand flew up and started to trace over various parts of my body, those various parts being the exact parts that had been injured on that fateful night. It was no longer a strange occurrence for me to dream about it—for me to be reminded of it. I just wished that I didn’t remember so much detail…

It would have made it slightly more bearable than it is now.

I lifted my hand and ran it over my face, trying to wipe some of the sleep out of my eyes in the process of doing so. I knew that there was no way in hell that I would be able to fall asleep again, and therefore, I wasn’t going to try either. It simply wasn’t worth the time that I would waste doing it, and the effort that it would take. It would be better overall, if I got up and started to go about with my day.

But as I pulled my phone out from beneath my pillow, I stared at the clock, cursing absolutely everything in existence.

03:28.

It was 03:28 in the morning.

I took a deep breath, closing my eyes so that I would be able to have a moment, able to take a breather without being too aware of what was going on around me. I hated this. I hated all of this with a passion so great that I did not have nearly enough words to explain it, to describe it. But I doubted that it mattered how I felt.

The man who had driven into me that night, had died.

And my mother had always made sure that I understood that you are not to despise the dead for the things that they did or didn’t do.

And that right there, was the one and only reason why I even tried not to wish him the worst for the rest of his life—because he had already been dealt one of the worst cards that he could have been dealt that night, suffered a fate much worse than mine had been.

Realising that I was allowing myself to become caught up in the familiar path of the past, I forced myself to open my eyes, to stop thinking about those particular things. I had other things that I needed to focus on, other things that needed my attention much more than my memories did. But of course, my ceiling didn’t end up being a better place than my mind, because I started to remember how many countless nights I had spent staring up at the ceiling, wondering what I had done to deserve the cards that I had been dealt with on that fateful night.

And although there were many people who would have been more than happy to point out to me that I hadn’t been the person who had walked away with the worst fate that night, I still didn’t think that it was right that that man had chosen to end his life by attempting to end mine too.

And yes, all that I had had was a few broken bones, but those few broken bones had cost me so much more than a simple medical bill. It felt like they had cost me the next few years of my life, because, although I had been more than able to get around, thanks to my mother and father, I hadn’t been able to life the life that I would have hoped to live—and that was because I was stuck paying medical bills.

And the worst part of it all, was that I hadn’t even managed to finish doing so. I had less to pay, and therefore, life was slightly more enjoyable than it had been, but recovering from hundreds of thousands worth of debt was not an easy thing to do. And I had already vowed to myself that this would be the first and the last time that I ever went into debt, no matter what the reason for it was.

As if someone, somewhere in the world had known that I was awake, had known that I was having difficulty sleeping—or perhaps I just wasn’t the only person having difficulty sleeping—my phone let out a loud pinging noise, signalling to me that someone had sent me a message. I wasted absolutely no time in retrieving my phone from beneath my pillow, and strangely enough, I didn’t feel an ounce of surprise when I realised that the message that I had been notified about, had come from no one other than my mother.

I let out a sigh, wondering whether or not I should just go ahead and put the phone back, whether I should act like I hadn’t woken up yet, and therefore, I wouldn’t have seen her text message. But even as I started to think about doing that, I knew that it was wrong of me. My mother had done nothing to deserve such treatment. And therefore, before my guilt could eat me up, I opened the text.

                Are you still coming this weekend?

I let out another sigh, feeling like I should have known that she would ask such a question, should have known that that was the only thing on her mind at the moment. But then again, I couldn’t blame her. I simply couldn’t. It was an important celebration, and my attendance was vital. It was only natural for her to be worried about whether or not I would be coming, since I never seem to attend on these special occasions.

Every instinct in my body begged me to respond with the simple two letter word, begged me not to get myself into something that I would inevitably come to regret. But I couldn’t. No matter how much I wanted to, I simply couldn’t. I had promised myself that this time would be the one time that I actually go, the one time that I spend time with my family. No matter how much I would have preferred to be here, at home or even at work—anywhere that wasn’t back in that town.

                I don’t know what my schedule looks like for this week.

I know that it was a futile response, and that it wasn’t really an acceptable one, but it was the only one that I could come up with that didn’t directly commit me to anything. This way, I was more than able to get through all of this without worrying too much about bailing on them at the last minute. Because as I had pointed it out to them now, I didn’t know what my schedule looked like for the week ahead. And pleading obliviousness was not lying.

                Dilara, you can’t say that. We’ve been planning this for months and now you’re telling me that you don’t know if you’ll be able to make it? You had more than enough time to make sure that your employers know about this.

Even though I wasn’t there with her, I was more than able to imagine her laying in bed, her cheeks bloating in anger as she typed her response to me. It was something that I had seen on her face all too often, although at the time, it had never been directed towards me. But I was sure that as of late, I had been one of the only people who had been evoking such a reaction from my mother.

                They don’t accept family gatherings as a valid excuse for leave, mother. What am I supposed to do? Quit?

I knew that my comments were rather out of place, and unnecessary, but I still felt the need to use them. Because even though I was my own boss, it did not mean that my business was booming. But the point of the matter was that it was doing well enough to keep itself and me afloat. And that was one of the reasons why I refused to tell my mother that I wasn’t employed by someone, that I was my own boss. It simply wouldn’t be a wise decision to make, because then, not only would I be obligated to attend family functions, but I would also lose a lot more income than I would already be losing by keeping the shop closed this weekend.

I let out a sigh, putting my phone down on the empty bed beside me. I had no idea what I was going to do.  It was the fourth of July this weekend. And although most people would be down by the beach to watch the fireworks, there were always more than enough people who decided to grab some coffee and cake before and after the fireworks, some as a snack during the show, and others, a snack for the ride home.

Another ping. Another text message.

                Don’t be foolish, Dilara. But you can’t bail on us this weekend. I will drag you here by myself if need be!

I could do nothing other than to stare at the text, knowing that even though my mother threated to do this, she wouldn’t. It would be too financially straining on them to do such a thing. Because although they weren’t the ones who were in debt, they were the ones that had lost their jobs a few months after that and ended up tapping their savings dry. They were currently in the process of trying to build it up again—but I didn’t see how they would be able to build it up if they continued to have so many family gatherings.

They would literally be allowing themselves to be eaten into poverty.

                I’m not making any promises, ma. If I can’t make it, then I can’t make it.

Not having the strength to deal with her any more than I already had, I made sure to put my phone on silent before I put it down on the bedside table. Of course, after this, I was left with nothing else to do other than to stare at the ceiling, the very same ceiling that I had been staring at before the text messages had started to come through.

If I knew my mother as well as I liked to believe that I did, then she would definitely make sure that another family member ended up contacting me and making sure that I would understand just how important it was to attend this gathering, and point out to me how long it has been since anyone has seen me.

But none of it would matter.

Because it wouldn’t change anything.

It wouldn’t change the fact that my parents still lived in the same house, just a few streets down from the one where the accident had happened. And I was welcome to allow everyone to say and think whatever it was that they wanted to, but I was sure that something had been out there with me.

I might not have had any way to prove it, but I was sure.

I had felt it touch me.

And everyone had had the nerve to go ahead and treat me like I was some crazy person, like I had brain damage. That was what the doctors had tried to write it off as—my brain making up hallucinations to try and fill in the blanks that I could no longer fill in with actual memories.

But they hadn’t been there.

They have no idea what it was like for me—it had felt like that car was out to kill me that night. Not like it was some drunk driver who had just lost his job, and it was considered a suicide. No. It definitely hadn’t been that.

But they would never believe me. And that was why I chose to stay away…