The Game (Frankie Iero) 36 ~*~*~*NEW NEW NEW~*~*~*~*

You got into town and were forced to figure out where exactly you were. It wasn’t a big place, but it was still spread over a fair amount of land. You pulled your hair into a ponytail and slung your backpack on one arm.

*God damn, I hate it here. * you breathed. Walking down main street you saw the Denny’s you used to go to and beg for money. You walked inside and ordered milkshake and some French fries. You rubbed your eyes. It must’ve been at least three am. You didn’t feel like wasting what cash you had left on a hotel room. You knew that by now none of your old friends lived here. You also knew that you didn’t want to be with them either. You walked around for at least another hour before you gave up and went behind Vons and slept in the loading docks. You didn’t get much sleep but you didn’t mind. Getting up you walked to the florist and bought 2 bouquets of flowers. You walked home.

The entire way there, you recited what you were going to say when they answered the door. You stopped in front of your house. There was a small pile of flowers on the door step. You walked up and knocked on the door. You didn’t think anyone was going to answer. You stood there for a few minutes and as you turned to leave the door creaked open. There wasn’t any light inside and the face that looked back at you was pale and covered in running make-up. The woman was at least a head shorter than you. She couldn’t have been over 5 foot tall. She looked at you with sadness in her eyes that suddenly blared in anger.

*Turn yourself around. You walk away and never come back. You aren‘t welcome here. Leave before I call the cops* her voice started softly but grew in volume.
You exhaled and shook your head. After all this time she was still so cold.

*No, mom. Hear me out,* you held your hand against the door so she couldn’t close it.

*I said, walk away.*

*No. I’ve walked away too much. I know what Paul wanted to say to you.* Her eyebrows squeezed together and then her eyes began to pool with tears. She looked around and then moved the door and let you in.

* Wipe your feet.*

You walked in and were set aback by memories. The living room was still the same. White walls, white carpet, white candles around the white fireplace. Both of the white couches were still facing each other, you would bet your life that the TV was still in the master bedroom. You sat on the hard couch across from your mom and set the flowers on the white coffee table with a flower centerpiece in a glass vase.

*Paul and I were close….* you started

*You were twins no doubt.* she said rudely stating the obvious.

*Mom, please. Just let me finish without interruptions and I‘ll be out of your hair faster .* You promised her. You couldn’t stand to look at her, so you looked at the tiny windows that were on the second floor.

*fine.* She said while sitting up making her seem bigger and meaner then she really was.

*We were in a band together. But before that, we got into some pretty bad stuff….* you tried to start again.

*drugs..* She interrupted. You looked at her until she motioned that she was finished.
*We had secrets and the one that he wanted you to know was that he was gay.* she inhaled harshly, which pissed you off. *I‘m sure that if he were the one sitting here telling you, he would expect you to love him the same.* You narrowed you eyes and looked at her.

*Of course.* she said narrowing her eyes the same.

*He wanted you to know that he wanted to make you proud…and that he was sorry for what we put you through.* She was so stiff and cold, you couldn’t get comfortable in the seat. You figured short sentences would work for now. *That‘s about it. I guess, I‘ll be leaving now.* you got up and started towards the door.

*…Rebecca….. Why did you leave?* she asked quietly as you turned the doorknob.

*Paul and I?* You asked turning around and looking at her. Her makeup was running down to her jaw line and her hands were shaking. She nodded.. *Paul left because he was tired of listening to your bitching. He was tired of not being able to talk to you without you saying something negative about everything. He was tired of it. And I suppose he was pissed because you locked me away.* Your attention was taken away by a piece of paper on the table. You read the bold lettering.

*And you?* she asked as she turned the paper over.

*The entire time I lived here, I was a prisoner. You’d take me to school. Then bring me back home after, feed me lunch and then strap me to my bed. I wasn’t allowed to play outside. I wasn’t even allowed to see my own brother. In your eyes, I was insane. I got straight A’s, I never got suspended or expelled. And as a reward for that, you put me in classes with crazy people.
I tried talking to you. I tried pleading my case. For the longest time I didn’t know what I did to deserve that. When you finally answered my question and told me that I had gotten raped. I didn’t remember. I never remembered! I was too young to remember that.
I remember when you got tired of strapping me to my bed yourself. You taught me how to strap myself in. I remember laying in my bed with one arm strapped in already. I looked around and I cried. I cried for so long. I didn’t understand. I didn‘t understand what I could have done to make you treat me that. Then one day you let Dad take me to school.
He let me eat at the dining table. Then Paul walked down the stairs and we actually talked. He didn‘t look at me like you did. He knew that I was just another person. He didn‘t treat me like I was crazy. Then we got moved into the same school, and he actually started to talk to me more. We became best friends and I remember him coming into my room for the first time and asking me why I was strapping myself down. I didn‘t know and I couldn‘t answer. I just looked at him and cried. He undid the straps and hugged me. It was first hug I‘d ever gotten. It felt good to know that I wasn’t crazy.* You smiled bitter sweetly and sighed. *After that I never strapped myself in, and you never noticed. You seemed oblivious to any form of individuality in me. You never hugged me. You were never into deep conversation like he was and I loved him for that.
In short…. I guess I left because at the places he used to take me to, people acknowledged that I was normal. They actually made an effort to show me they cared. You never did that. Dad didn‘t either, but you were my mom. You were supposed to take me shopping and gossip with me. You were supposed to help me with my dress for prom. You were supposed to play with my hair and take me to get manicures. You were supposed to love me.
My entire time here, I felt like I was just a burden. Like I was the only thing holding you back from being happy. So one night I looked at Paul and I told him that I didn‘t want to go back. He kissed me on the forehead and replied with ‘It‘s about time.’ That night, we snuck back into the house, got all of our stuff, and never went back.*
She had a look of utter disbelief on her face.

*You taught me a couple things though...* You looked at her getting angry because of your memories.

*What might they be?* she asked, with all the malice drained from her voice. She corrected her make up and looked like another debutante’s mother.

*You taught me that I couldn‘t really trust everyone; even if they were supposed to be there for me. You also taught me how to disappear.* you took a step out of the door when you felt a hand on your shoulder.

*I only reported Paul missing. I never looked for you. I didn‘t want you to come back. But, I guess, that was a mistake...* She stepped forward and gave you an awkward hug. Then she returned to her place and straightened her skirt and matching jacket. She raised her head and then stiffened her posture. *Rebecca Dahl, you are no longer my daughter. You are not welcome on this property. When you‘re sick and dying, don‘t expect help from this home. When you die, I don‘t want any part in your burial. I don‘t want the expense of your funeral on my bank account. A wooden box, a piece of rock, and a hole in the ground, cost more then your life does to me.* She looked down her nose at you. You looked passed her at the white two story house. You looked at the window of your old room above the garage, then sighed.

*This house was never a home. I hope you enjoy your divorce from my father, I hope he is finally happy. When you die, I want to meet the very fortunate person who became so tired of your sadistic bullshit that he killed you. I will testify in the defense of said person and will implore the judge to rule your murder as ‘justifiable homicide.’ oh, and I hope you rot in hell.* you said smiling pleased with her expression. You took your other bouquet of flowers and walked down the sidewalk.