Suffocating Secrets

by E A Owen

  Dad and I used to be really close, but after he started dating and I had skipped my seventh-grade year, I felt myself drifting from him. I don’t think he understood what I endured emotionally. I wished my mom was here, so I could confide in her about these things, but she had died during childbirth. I felt alone not having a mom present. I’d heard all these stories in school, and it made me angry and jealous that they all had their moms, and I never even met mine. Dad and I discussed her, and I saw lots of pictures; I resembled her. Dad said I reminded him of her when he looked at me, which made me feel special, because, from the pictures I saw of my mom, she was a beautiful lady. I was tall and slender, with long honey-blond hair, big ice-blue eyes that complimented my long, thick eyelashes, high cheek bones, small nose, and full lips.

  I truly believed things would have turned out differently if my mom had been around when I was growing up. I would lay in bed during sleepless nights and talk out loud to my mom, telling her everything that happened in my life—what bothered me, what kids said at school about me, how I felt so alone and felt like I couldn’t talk to anyone about it except her. I asked her what I should do or how she felt about everything, like she could hear me from the heavens, but she never responded. Who was I kidding? She was dead; she can’t talk, and she sure can’t hear me. She’s laying six feet underground, rotting in a coffin for the last sixteen years.

  ***

  Tonight was the night, July 27. The super-blue-blood moon—a once-in-a-lifetime rare occurrence when a blue moon, super moon, blood moon, and lunar eclipse occur concurrently while the moon is at its closest point to Earth—presented the longest total-lunar eclipse of the twenty-first century, lasting for an entire hour and forty-three minutes. I was super excited to experience this anomaly with my own eyes but also frustrated the news twisted this amazing phenomenon into Breaking News, reporting a “prophecy alert.” It was the longest blood moon ever, and the media claimed it as an “apocalyptic sign of the end of the world,” which the Bible referenced.

  I’ve always had an intense passion for space and the unknown—the sun, moon, stars, and planets. When I turn eighteen, I want to get a tattoo on my left shoulder blade of a half-moon/half-sun with the north, east, south, and west rays intertwined. The illustration I had drawn was captivating. I loved to draw and read. They were how I escaped from my desolate, exacerbated life and forgot about everything and everyone around me. I had a habit of reading until my eyes go cross-eyed. Books had a grotesque effect on my vise-grip mind by distorting reality in an unexpected ludicrous demeanor. My ultimate escape from reality. It was so addicting and intoxicating. It gave me a feeling of euphoria; I just couldn’t get enough. I could totally lose myself; it was the only time I felt enraptured and at peace.

  I stepped outside as the refreshing night breeze gently caressed my delicate skin. I noticed a leaf directly above me, slowly drifting and swaying like a pendulate. A gust lifted it and tossed it like a ragdoll into the blanket of darkness etched in charcoal.

  Dad sat in his chair, holding a cold beer and gazing at the sky. He smiled when he saw me. “Hi, sweetie. Have you come to join me for the show?”

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

  Dad pointed. “Look!”

  Thousands of fireflies in our backyard glowed dim then intensified in magnitude. I’d never seen so many fireflies in my life. I stared in awe as my backyard resembled thousands of twinkling stars just in an arm’s reach, as if the fireflies had come to enjoy the total-lunar eclipse from our spectacular view.

  The super-blue-blood moon glowed with brilliance as its reflection rippled in the lake, casting a red tint in the sparkling water of diamonds. This beautiful moment would be etched in my memory forever and never forgotten.

  College

  Starting school at Hollins University in Roanoke terrified me. I didn’t know a soul, but not like that mattered much anyways, since I didn’t have any friends. I had a full scholarship. I didn’t want to attend a school too far from home but wanted one to be far enough away where I could have some privacy. Being only a little over an hour away, I could technically still live at home, but I wanted some independence, even as much as it frightened me. I was the youngest student on campus. Sixteen and in college—it’s hard to wrap my head around.

  My roommate, Carrie Evans, was nineteen and in her second year—a redhead with long wavy hair, emerald-green eyes, and lightly freckled skin. I learned quickly that she loved to get drunk, go to parties, and have fun. She was popular and had lots of friends. I wasn’t sure in the beginning if we would get along, being so different on every aspect in life, but we became the best of friends. She got me to open up more and be more social, but it still made me uncomfortable. I didn’t like drinking too much either. I got so drunk at my first frat party that I passed out and didn’t remember what had happened the next day. My head pounded all day, and I felt nauseated. I guess I vomited everything I had drank that night but don’t remember any of it. Having a hangover sucks.

  “Promise me that you’ll never let me drink that much again, Carrie.”

  “Why would I promise you that? You had lots of fun last night! There’s another party tonight. We should go.”

  “I don’t know, Carrie. I feel like I was hit by a freight train. I don’t think I’ll recover by this evening. The last thing on my mind right now is having another drink.”

  “You’re a lightweight. Just hang out with me, and you’ll be a pro at drinking.” Carrie laughed. “I’ll even teach you all the tricks to not have a hangover the next morning.”

  “Would’ve been nice if you told me some of those tricks last night.”

  “I didn’t realize you drank too much, until it was too late.”

  “I don’t feel very good.” I grabbed my stomach and ran to the bathroom. I lifted the toilet seat and violently vomited as my stomach convulsed. “I think I’m still drunk. The room is spinning,” I yelled from the bathroom as I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. “I think I’m going to lay down for a bit. Maybe when I wake up, I’ll feel better.” I dragged my feet as I shambled to my bed and plopped face first into the pillow.

  “Okay, Bella. I’m going to meet Chad for lunch. When I come back, I’ll wake you.”

  “Sounds good. Have fun,” I replied, my voice muffled from talking through the pillow.

  ***

  “Bella. Bella. Wake up. Bella. Wake up,” Carrie whispered as she shook me.

  “I’m awake. I’m awake. What’s wrong, Carrie?”

  “I screwed up! I don’t know what to do. I don’t trust anyone else. They all have big mouths, and Chad would eventually find out. Can I trust you to keep a secret, Bella?”

  “Yeah, of course, Carrie. What is it? What happened?” I rubbed my eyes and sat upright in bed as Carrie sat next to me, buried her head in her hands and sobbed. I rubbed her back, trying to comfort her.

  She took a moment to gather herself, then she straightened up as black mascara streaked her wet cheeks. “I’m pregnant,” Carrie choked out as she nervously rotated her engagement ring on her finger.

  “Why are you so upset? Don’t you want to have a baby with Chad? You’ve been together since high school.”

  “I know. I do. But I don’t think it’s Chad’s. I’ve cheated on him a few times with this guy named Ryan. I’ve been meeting up with him behind Chad’s back. I feel so guilty now, but, at the time, it was fun and exhilarating. He’s exciting, confident, and very good looking. He makes my heart skip a beat. But I’ve been with Chad since freshman year. He’s my high-school sweetheart. He proposed to me when we graduated. We’ve been together for six years, engaged for two of them. I love Chad, I really do, but I second-guessed myself about whether I’d made the right decision—we have been dating since I was fourteen. He’s the only boyfriend I’ve ever had. I’ve never been with anyone else except for Ryan. I don’t know what to do, Bella.”

  “I don’t think you should leave Chad because you found some new exciting gu
y. Do you know anything about this guy except that you think he’s hot and a good lay?”

  “Not really. He’s the quarterback for Virginia Tech. His best friend Jason attends school here, so he’s been to a couple frat parties. That’s how I met him.”

  “Let me give you some advice, Carrie. Don’t leave Chad. He’s your high-school sweetheart. You’re engaged. You love him. Ryan is just a fling. He’s probably sleeping with lots of other girls too. He’s the quarterback for Virginia Tech—come on now, you can’t think he’ll stay faithful to you. Besides, we live forty-five minutes away. Don’t screw things up with Chad. This guy might be a complete asshole and just trying to be charming to get into your pants. If you tell Ryan that you’re pregnant, he might laugh and leave you high and dry ’cause he won’t want to deal with some pregnant girl he doesn’t even know and only slept with a few times. You might be raising the baby all alone without a father. You know if you told Chad, he would step up to the plate. I won’t tell a soul. You have my word. Just promise you’ll stop seeing this Ryan guy and stay faithful to Chad. He really loves you, Carrie. I can tell by the way he looks at you. I hope someday a guy will look at me the way Chad looks at you.”

  “I know, Bella. You’re right. Chad is an amazing boyfriend. He treats me like a princess. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’ll stop seeing Ryan and tell Chad I’m pregnant. Thanks for talking some sense into me, Bella. You’re really something special. Want to be the baby’s godmother?”

  “I would love to. I feel honored,” I replied with a huge grin as I wrapped my arms around Carrie and gave her a big hug.

  Best Friends

  After I swore to keep Carrie’s little dirty secret, we became best friends. She confided in me with just about everything, and I reciprocated. Our friendship was unorthodox, outrageous and exciting.

  “Who was your best friend growing up, Bella?” Carrie asked as she took a big bite of her burger.

  “I never really had any close friends. I’ve always been quiet and kept to myself. The only person I ever considered a friend was my neighbor, Lindsey. She used to come over and play in my treehouse that my dad and grandfather built for me. But once I skipped seventh grade, she wanted nothing to do with me anymore. I don’t know what got into her, but she became a real bully. Even when I minded my own business, she would seek me out. Once, when I sat next to her in the cafeteria, she shot me this snotty look, grabbed her tray and sat at a table across the room. Everyone else looked at me, rolled their eyes and sat at the table with Lindsey, leaving me by myself at an empty table in a crowded cafeteria. I ate in silence, trying to hold back the tears that trickled down my cheeks. I stood and walked with my head down, and, as I passed Lindsey’s table, she stuck out her foot and tripped me. It caught me off guard, and I fell. My tray slipped from my grip and hit a kid in the back of the head. In anger, he got up, spun around and smashed his fist into my face. I felt warm blood dribble from my nose and splatter on the floor. Everyone pointed their fingers and laughed. I burst into tears and ran out of the cafeteria. I heard people mocking me and calling me a crybaby. I’ve never been so humiliated in my life. That was just the beginning. Lindsey got worse. Sometimes I’d walk into the classroom and she’d turn to her friends and bark, saying, ‘Look, the dog just walked in.’ Everyone would laugh uncontrollably. I grew to hate Lindsey. She became my nemesis. But the bullying eventually stopped. A few months later, a devastating fire took her entire family, and they all died in their sleep.”

  “Oh, my God, Bella. That’s awful! How did you handle the news?”

  “At first, I was shocked and devastated. I couldn’t believe her entire family was dead. But, at the same time, I was relieved the bullying would stop. I know that sounds horrible to say, but, Carrie, it got so bad that I didn’t even want to live anymore. I became extremely depressed. I cut myself to cope with the intense emotions I felt. I skipped school and cried myself to sleep almost every night. The only thing that seemed to relieve the pain was to cut myself—the deeper, the better. Once I cut so deep that I’m sure I needed stitches, but I couldn’t tell my dad, so I used superglue. It stopped the bleeding in a pinch and sealed the wound, with less scarring. It worked pretty good. See?” I lifted my shirt to expose the faded scar on my left side. “She was just unscrupulous and deviant. It’s like she was possessed. We used to get along, then it seemed like something in her snapped, and she hated me and just looked for ways to make my life miserable.” My internal temperature rose; I got angry just thinking about it. “I tried to put it all behind me, forget it had ever happened. I don’t like talking about it, makes me get all crazy, remembering the Hell she’d put me through. I guess she got what she deserved!” I inhaled quickly and held my breath after I realized I had just said that out loud. “I should have never said that. I just got carried away, reliving the nightmare she had put me through. I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry, Carrie. I was upset. Can we talk about something else?”

  “Don’t get upset with yourself, Bella. It’s completely understandable. I can’t imagine what she put you through. I’m sure anyone in your situation would feel relieved or had wished her dead at one point or another. It’s not like you killed her. No need to apologize to me. Have you ever talked to anyone about what she put you through? The emotions you felt? The cutting? Like a counselor or maybe a teacher, your dad, your grandmother? Anyone?”

  “No. You’re the only other person I’ve talked to about this besides my great-grandmother. Not even my dad knows.”

  “Well, you have to start somewhere. It’s a good first step. Venting can help, but you might consider talking to a professional, and maybe they’ll help you heal those wounds that are still wide open and let you feel confident in putting this all behind you. I’m so sorry, Bella. I can’t imagine what you went through. I’m here for you whenever you need to talk. But I think you’re right. Let’s talk about something different.” Carrie smiled as she reached in for a big hug.

  There was a long pause before I broke the silence. “Have you decided what you want to major in, Carrie?”

  “I’m considering working in a field within the FBI. I’m not sure exactly what yet. So, in the time being, I’m taking criminal justice classes. How about you?”

  “I want to be a dentist or a veterinarian. Haven’t decided yet.” I paused. “Do you think your baby will complicate your schooling? Do you plan on taking a break from school?”

  “I haven’t thought that far ahead. I hope I can finish school. It just might take a little longer to get my degree though. I may have to go to school part time for a year.”

  “Makes sense.” I paused. “Have you and Chad discussed when you’ll get married?”

  “I actually wanted to talk to you about that. Chad and I think it’s best if we get married before the baby is born, and I was hoping you’d be my maid of honor.”

  “Are you serious?” I replied with pure excitement.

  “Absolutely! You’re my best friend.”

  “I would love to, Carrie. I feel so honored you thought of me.” I gave Carrie a big hug, squeezing tight.

  “We only have a month to prepare everything for the wedding, so we better get cracking.”

  Murder

  Eight Years Later

  I quickly glanced behind me, breathing heavy and running as fast as my legs could carry me. Trying to catch my balance, I tripped several times on twisted overgrown roots that protruded from the forest ground. Sharp rocks and dry leaves tore up my bare feet, leaving a trail of scented warm blood behind me. My heart pounded so hard that I could hear it throbbing inside my skull. I had to stop and take a break for just a moment to catch my breath. My throat felt dry and scratchy from gasping desperately for air. I frantically search every direction—eyes wide with fear.

  The darkness played tricks on me. I noticed a shadow dart behind a nearby tree. I gasped, holding my breath and hoping not to be heard by whoever or whatever chased me. The echo of snapping sticks startled me as I fought the impul
se to turn around. My heart pounded fiercely; my fingers curled into a fist, nails digging into my palms. Fear tortured my thoughts as my stomach slowly twisted into a tense cramp.

  A drop of water hit the top of my head. I tossed back my head, noticing streaks of moonlight dancing through the treetops as the wind rustled the leaves. A loud crash paralyzed my soul as I released a curdling scream.

  ***

  I awoke from a sound sleep, drenched in a fear-induced sweat. I must have really been out cold. I can’t remember the last time I dreamt so vividly. I wiped sweat off my trembling body. Gross.

  A cool breeze invaded my room as the curtains swayed from side to side. I glanced at the alarm clock on my nightstand—3:28 a.m. A bolt of lightning ripped violently through the once-silent night followed by a loud clap of thunder, startling me and making me feel like I had literally jumped out of my skin

  I threw the blankets off me and leapt from bed. The wind howled as rain blew right through my open window, dripping on the hardwood floors. I almost fell, slipping in a puddle that had formed under my window. I loved thunderstorms, but the enjoyment stopped when it decided to creep indoors. I slammed shut the window and glanced at the dark sky illuminated with explosions of static lightning.

  What was I running from? I was truly terrified! The dream felt so real.

  I sat on the side of my bed and gazed through the window of distorted images as I drifted back to sleep.

  ***

  I’ve had the same recurring dream for the last ten years. It doesn’t always happen the same way or at the same location, but I’m always running from something, induced by fear and woken up abruptly before I ever see who or what I was running from. I’ve researched the meaning of the dream online and in a dream dictionary I kept in my office. It worried me so much that I even saw a therapist.

  I was concerned my subconscious was trying to warn me of something, but, of what, I’m not exactly sure. Some references say it’s stress or anxiety, others say it could represent running away from the truth. It could be a feeling of being trapped in the daily grind of life and wanting to escape. Also, it might represent me avoiding an issue or a person. But they all said the same thing—what chases you matters. Problem was that I never see who or what chases me in any of the dreams, so I feel lost.