Calyx

Screaming. Was that it? No, no it was yelling. Someone was yelling. “RUN,” was all I heard.

So I did. I ran. But I wasn’t sure what I was running from. The voice had been dripping with urgencing, and...was that, fear? Things were going a little too fast for me. Suddenly everyone had crazy powers and insane lives. Was it- I just- was I really a part of this?

I wasn’t sure how to react to any of this. I mean, powers. Really? I had to be fair here, as in, I shouldn’t discard the possibility....but honestly. Suddenly everyone has the mad abilities, and now, we’re running from some magical voice? Yeah, it’s a bit doubtful.

Of course, things like this do happen.

To me, at least.

Like when I was 11 years old, on… the day.

My mother and I had been fighting. About what, I can’t remember for the life of me. But we were arguing. And she said something about my grades. Was that it? Had we been fighting about- apparently so. She told me that it just wasn’t good enough. That I really needed to improve if I was to go anywhere in life. And I began to shout. Saying things like, “None of it matters,” and, “It’s not like you care anyway,” which, of course was a lie. My mother cared so much. So did my dad.

I remember it now.

We had been fighting about my slipping grades. This would have been during my rebel stage. That point in my life where I took to skipping off class and burning my assignments… Had I really been that stupid? My mother mentioned getting me a tutor, someone to help me catch up, and I pretty much exploded.

From there, it’s a little fuzzy.

I remember hearing a crash, and seeing blood splatter, and then I’m sitting on my steps next to an officer, explaining that everything is my fault. But the officer doesn’t believe me. He tells me that I shouldn’t blame myself because there was no way I could have done that. He says not to worry, that my mum could still make it. He pats me on the back and walks over to my dad, and starts explaining about the court appearance. I can hear him. I hope he knows that.

He goes on to tell my dad about the driver who hit my mother with his car, saying things like “sue” and “jail”, but I tune out. My mother wasn’t hit by a car.

An image of my mum with her body crashed through the windshield of a car, all bloody and cut, races into my mind.
I shake my head and close my eyes, and push myself a little farther.

Bia screams telling me to leave her behind. But she’s in the present.

Instead, I push my mother out of my head and remind Bia she’s important too. And then I speed up, letting my heart start to race.

My feet hit the ground numerous times, and my arms are at my side, pumping like mad, trying to keep the pace I’m at. I bite my lip and run fast. If I don’t stop, nothing can get me.

I can’t spoil this.

After what happened to my mum, I made it my mission to be the perfect daughter. Even if she’d never see me this way, at least I wouldn’t be letting her down.

I was a failure of a daughter for her.

And I can’t let that happen again.

I’ve got to be who she wants.

I’ve got to keep running.

Because it was my fault. And it’s still going to catch up to me.