Life After Light

by E. S. Maria

  LIFE

  after

  LIGHT

  a novel

  E.S. MARIA

  Copyright ©2015 by E.S. Maria

  All rights reserved to the author. No part of this e-book may be used, reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or book reviews.

  Disclaimer

  This e-book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarities or resemblance to actual persons (living or deceased), places, business establishments, events, or locales are purely coincidental.

  ISBN-13: 978-0-9924772-3-3

  ISBN-13: 978-0-9924772-5-7

  Cover art by Kellie Dennis at Book Cover by Design

  www.bookcoverbydesign.co.uk

  CONTENTS

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Epilogue

  Playlist

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  DEDICATION

  For my family, my brightest beacons of happiness,

  You are, and forever will be, my light.

  Faith is seeing light with your heart when all your eyes see is darkness.

  ~Unknown~

  PROLOGUE

  “I’m a motherfucking eagle! Woohoo!” I scream on top of my lungs.

  I’m sitting on the uppermost part of the backseat of my boyfriend’s convertible, with the summer air hitting hard on my face, making my skin feel taut. My long, dark hair is flying all over me in complete abandon. It feels so damn invigorating.

  I feel so fucking free!

  He’s driving along Avoca Drive, a route we’re so used to, while I’m singing along to “Rock Star” by the N.E.R.D, not caring if anyone can hear my racket.

  “Get the fuck down, Hannah! You’re tanked, babe,” Paul’s terse words are inaudible with the same song I just turned up.

  “Oh, come on, Grandpa! We just finished high school, and in a couple of months, we’ll be having the time of our lives in the big city. It’s gonna be amazing!” I scream out again, raising my arms up in complete abandon. “Yeeeaahhh!”

  “I’m gonna stop this car if you don’t get back on the seat and put your seat belt on. I don’t wanna get in trouble with the cops, and I don’t want you getting hurt either.”

  He’s already slowing down, indicating so he can pull over. I don’t want him to stop, but he’s always been a stickler for the rules. With a big pout, I manoeuvre my way towards the front passenger seat, plopping myself down unceremoniously.

  “Seat belt!” Paul reminds me sternly, switching off the indicator.

  “Ugh! Okay, okay. Relax!” I haphazardly put on my seat belt, just as Paul accelerates again. “Why are you being such a wet blanket, anyway? That party was going off, there were beers everywhere, and yet you only drank two. Loosen the fuck up!”

  “I just got this car. My father said he’ll take this back if I get any demerit points. You know he’ll do it. I need this car to drive us around Sydney, babe.”

  “I can drive us.”

  “Babe … come on. This is a Beemer. You drive a V-Dub Beetle. I love you more than my car for sure, but your ride is way too girly.”

  I inch closer towards him, draping my arm around his waist and laying my giddy head on his shoulder. “Hey, I love my Betsy,” I grumble, defending my car; then I sigh out aloud, “I’m just really happy, baby. We did it!”

  A sudden surge of joy makes me take my seat belt off and jump on Paul’s lap. The car swerves from his hands leaving the steering wheel, but he manages to take control.

  “Fuck, babe, you’re gonna get us killed!”

  “No, I won’t. There’s no one on the road, silly,” I answer with a giggle.

  The road on the way to Avoca Beach is practically empty at this time of the night so I’m the least bit worried. “Kiss me, Paul,” I purr, my arms around his shoulders, my lips pressed on his neck. “C’mon, I’m so buzzed and super horny. Find us a spot, quick. I really want you now.”

  When I sneak a glimpse, Paul still has his eyes on the road. But I notice his caramel-coloured eyes widen with excitement at the prospect of sex.

  My boyfriend may be the kindest, sweetest man in public, and he is … for the most part.

  But he is super freaky when it comes to sex.

  “I know exactly where to take you. It’s this rest stop that no one uses.” He speeds up, and I giggle when I feel his excitement growing underneath me.

  It must have been a mixture of alcohol and the adrenalin rush that comes with the car speeding that’s crushing my inhibitions. I don’t remember being so uncharacteristically careless.

  But all our lives, we’ve been the good kids. We’re in the popular circle, and, as one of our friends used to say, we looked like Barbie and Ken, but hella smarter, plus I’m a brunette. We’ve worked hard at school and graduated with top honours. And soon, we’re going to Sydney to study law at one of the most prestigious universities in Australia. It’s going to be scary but exhilarating at the same time because we’re moving out of this small coastal town and making our dreams come true without anyone looking out for us.

  But what’s most exciting is that I’m going in this adventure with the person I love. The person I want to spend the rest of my life with.

  Paul. My perfect man.

  I freakin’ love him!

  And I wanna lick his face right now because he’s so delicious!

  God, I feel so alive right now!

  And I may be super drunk too.

  But who cares? This is the best night ever!

  I hop on to the passenger seat once again, turning up the music, just as Paul and his libido accelerates the car even more.

  “I fucking love you, babe!” I cry out as I grab Paul by the face so I can kiss him hard.

  “I fucking love you too, gorgeous,” he growls back. And as soon as I let him go, I pump my arms up in the night air.

  “Woohoo!” I scream out, looking up at the sky and seeing the stars twinkling above us.

  Oh yeah, I’m a mother-effin rock star!

  CHAPTER ONE

  Present Day

  The familiar crunch of the gravel outside our driveway tells me that they’ve arrived. Mum told me the news last week, and now the day has finally arrived. I feel my heart skipping a beat for a second, then it swiftly drops downwards, making me wrap an arm around my gut, as if I can stop its descent.

  I’m nervous … nervous and a little terrified at the prospect of what’s about to happen next.

  I’m sitting at my nook right by my window. It has become my little sanctuary, a place for me to sit and take advantage of the morning sun.

  And speaking of the sun, even though I can definitely feel its rays warming up my skin, I still feel quite cold on the inside, and my hands are get
ting clammy and gross.

  Wiping the moisture over my jeans, I get off the nook so I can walk out of my bedroom and get this over with. But after a few steps, I manage to catch my foot on something protruding on the floor, and I fall face down on the hardwood floor.

  I cry out a litany of swear words in speedy succession.

  I didn’t even make it to the large, fluffy rug that’s lying at the foot of my bed. I hit the floor with my knees and elbows first.

  Hello, bruises.

  My bedroom door opens, and I hear a loud gasp, followed by the sound of footsteps running towards me.

  “Oh Hannah! Dios mio, why didn’t you call out for me? I could’ve helped you out.”

  Sighing, I answer, “Mum, I’m okay. Just let me get up.” I try to stand back up after freeing my foot from whatever has caught it, but I feel her hands under my arms as she tries to stand me up. I roughly shake her off of me.

  “I said … I can get up. I don’t need help. I’m not an invalid,” I tell her in a huff, my frustration reflecting on the harshness of my voice.

  “I know, mija, but I thought I’ll just—”

  “Mum, fucking stop! I still have my legs and my hands. I didn’t lose them. I only lost my footing and my dignity, okay? God!”

  I regret my outburst instantly, knowing my words must have hurt my mother’s feelings. But ever since the accident a few months ago, Mum has become my metaphorical punching bag for continuous outbursts and filth that come out of my mouth.

  I guess it’s one of the perks of a trauma, if it’s even a perk―you gain the right to cuss and feel downright sorry for yourself.

  But I wasn’t always like this. In what feels like forever ago, I was the obedient, charming, and caring daughter. Not the foul-mouthed ingrate that Mum has to deal with on a daily basis.

  She doesn’t deserve to be treated so badly by someone she cares so much for.

  “Sorry ... I didn’t mean to go off on you like that.” I smooth my shirt down, wincing at the sting left on my elbows and knees. In no time, her hands are holding mine firmly, reassuringly.

  “I know, mi corazon. You’re still adjusting. I understand.”

  “Yeah … adjusting. It’s fine. I’m fine,” I answer back too softly to sound convincing.

  How can I convince her, when I can’t even convince myself?

  Mum carefully navigates my limping self outside of my bedroom, which has been relocated from the second floor. My current bedroom was formerly Dad’s study and library, which is a lot bigger than my original bedroom upstairs. I remember when, as a little girl, I would sit at that very same nook by the window, reading or studying, while Dad was sitting at his desk, working.

  I loved spending time with my dad. It didn’t matter then if we didn’t have a conversation. We just loved being with each other’s company.

  I was a daddy’s girl.

  Was.

  Past tense.

  Now, I’m not even sure if he can stand being in the same room with me. Or maybe he just doesn’t know how to deal.

  He doesn’t know how to deal with me.

  I’m finding it hard to deal with myself.

  Because I know it was all my fault.

  I know my actions affected my relationship with him.

  I just wish that things would go back to the way they were.

  But they will never be the same.

  Some losses will never be regained no matter how hard I wish for them to be.

  And compared to everyone affected, I lost the most.

  My future. My dreams.

  My love …

  Him.

  I. Lost. Every. Damn. Thing.

  How do I go back from that?

  Maybe the answer is … I never will.

  “How do I look, Mum?” I ask as soon as she stops walking. She lets my hand go, and I stand before her feeling self-conscious.

  “You look absolutely beautiful, Hannah,” she answers, sounding choked up.

  “Ha!” My fingertips move up to the jagged scar running down the length of my right jawline up to my ear. “I’m definitely looking beautiful, especially with this beauty mark on my face.”

  It was my attempt at sounding self-deprecating and funny. But I sounded more sarcastic and bitter than lighthearted and witty.

  “Oh Hannah.”

  “Mum! Enough with the oh Hannahs!”

  “I’m sorry—”

  “And the I’m sorrys too … please,” I correct the harshness of my tone, pleading softly.

  “Oh … I can’t help it, mija, but for you, I’ll try.” Then Mum grabs my hand once again, and we continue to walk out of my bedroom on the way to the front door.

  “Okay, stop right here so Brodie can see you straight away.”

  I keep my feet firmly on the ground, my nerves returning.

  The last time I saw Brodie was eight months ago. He’s a lead singer and a guitarist in a band called Halcyon. He formed the band with his friends when they were fourteen, and a little over a year ago, they caught a break. Now they’re on tour a lot, locally and overseas, promoting their album and being rock gods, but always coming over to visit when he has some free time.

  I bitterly laugh to myself. He’s the true rock star. Not me.

  The front door opens, and my heart thuds heavily with excitement.

  “Hannah Banana!” my big brother’s deep, booming voice envelops the whole room, and my smile is instantaneous.

  “Welcome back, big bro,” I cry out as I open my arms wide, beaming from ear to scarred ear.

  I’m immediately off the floor as he swoops me up in his arms, roaring happily like a madman. He does this all the time, lifting me whenever he can, even when we were little kids. He has always been so strong, and so tall, and carrying me makes him feel like the Hulk.

  It’s our thing.

  “And you’re still light as a feather, li’l sis.”

  “Whatever. I’ve practically been a couch potato doing nothing,” I giggle.

  “Nah! Still a lightweight.”

  “Shut up! I probably gained over ten kilos. But you got huge!” I scream-whisper in awe, squeezing his arms and finding no squishy flesh.

  “Well, I’m glad you noticed. I have been spending time at the gym. The chicks love it when my guns are out onstage,” he tells me smugly when he finally places me back on my feet.

  “Gross, bro. But I missed you. It’s been so long, huh?” my lips begin to tremble before I can even finish my sentence, suddenly going through a myriad of emotions from happiness, sadness, frustration, regret, and shame.

  Unfortunately, shame and regret are now a permanent fixture within me.

  “I was there, baby sis. I dropped everything to be there for you, but you probably didn’t realise it. I mean you were—”

  “Yeah,” I cut him off. “I don’t want to talk about that. Mostly because I don’t remember shit.”

  I’m lying. I do remember everything. I just don’t want to talk about it anymore.

  “Okay, but now that I’m here, we’ll hang out like old times. And I won’t pressure you to talk about it. Only if you want to, okay?”

  I nod back, my head bowed. “Mum’s waiting for her hug too,” I mumble, pushing him off playfully, attempting a lighthearted chuckle.

  “Hey, Mum.” His heavy footsteps are emphasized on the hardwood floor as he makes his way to our mother.

  “I missed you, mijo!” Mum croons. “You know you’re my favourite son, right?”

  “Yes, and only because I’m you’re only son.” They laugh and I laugh with them. It’s a joke we share together. Mum always tells me I’m her favourite daughter too.

  She’s hilarious like that.

  That’s why she’s our favourite mum.

  “Your father’s on his way home, dear,” she reassures Brodie, without him asking.

  “No worries,” he answers, and I sense some tension in Brodie’s voice. That’s one more thing my brother and I have in common. My father and my brother
never see eye to eye when it comes to my brother’s career choice. For him, being a musician isn’t exactly a ‘secure job.’ Dad wanted Brodie to be a lawyer like him. He resisted from the start. He knew what he wanted to do with his life.

  I thought my path was my father’s. I actually wanted to be a lawyer, with grand plans to fight for the rights of the abused and mistreated children.

  But plans change.

  And now he’s probably just as disappointed in me. I mean, how else can I explain the way he’s been distancing himself?

  Dad has been super busy with work in the past months, but I think it’s only since the accident that he started working until the late hours. And if he’s at home, he’s always in his office, which used to be my old bedroom upstairs.

  I have a feeling that he’s trying to avoid me and the situation I’ve put myself into. Maybe it’s the reality that his well-laid-out plans of me becoming a lawyer like him have now burned to ashes, and it’s disappointed him.

  Or maybe it’s because his sweet little daughter is gone, replaced by a scarred, blind, angst-ridden shell of what used to be his sweet, little Hannah Rose.

  I don’t exactly know how or when Dad and I lost each other.

  But I miss him, and I want him back.

  I just wish he’d want me back too, broken or not.

  “Guess what? I have a surprise for you both,” Brodie announces, making me raise my head in attention.

  “It better be something awesome,” I answer back, one hand on my hip and the other out, palms up in anticipation, imagining a present that can fit on the palm of my hand.

  “I don’t know if I can live up to that expectation, but I’ll try.”

  What the fuck?

  My blood runs cold … just from the sound of that voice.

  Not him.

  Never him.

  Damn it, Brodie.

  This isn’t awesome at all.

  With gritted teeth, I blurt out the first thing I can think of, hatred dripping from every single word, “What the hell is he doing here?”