lipanandesworld

[lipanandesworld]

Prologue

It was April, a year had passed, and I felt worse than when I arrived here a year ago— a year of my life suspended; as if time was frozen and I was frozen too. A year ago, I was counting the days to get out of this hell.

It was that day; the day that I wish for a long time ago and I felt more—lost!

A year ago, I wanted with all of my heart to get out of here, but now? I don't feel prepared to face all the shit I've done before. I don't know how to deal with all my bad decisions and my demons out there, I think it's too early for me to get out of here. How's life on the other side now? Is it better this time for me? I wish I could go back in time and erase all my missteps, all the pain, the hurt, and resentment. I heard someone knock on the door, and my heart started racing.

"I'm going!" I yelled! But I didn't want to go. I didn't want to leave here. I know I'll make the same mistakes again— I felt it in my bones.

The nurse interrupted my thoughts again, "Neva, your family is here. It's time to go."

But I didn't want to go. It was too painful for me out there. I want to stay! I thought.

I got up from bed (angry by the idea of leaving here) from this room that has kept me safe from myself for a full year. What did I miss during this last year? Probably a lot. Like Kyle and my brother's first year in college and the opportunity to finish high school and apply to Columbia College. All birthday parties, the thanksgiving dinners, and all the laughs I used to share with Kyle and with my brothers.

Funny to say but, we used to have the strongest bond in the world because we all grew up together: my brothers, Kyle and I. We did everything together. But then, my brothers started to pay more attention to girls and school and they became more popular than me. After that, they became busier with their lives. 

They sidelined me; it was like I was just the annoying little sister when we used to be so much more than that. Kyle stuck around with me, and then Marcus came along in seventh grade. But it was never the same.

I remember that we all planned years ago to attend the same college because we wanted to be closer. We were the four mousquetaire. But now? We are nothing.

If I hadn't fucked everything up, maybe today, I would still be with Kyle. But I blew it all on the day my brothers and Kyle went to college. Maybe I blew everything before that.

Though I wasn't alone, I still had Marcus by my side, it was not the same with just him and I. I was so deep and buried in the hole that I couldn't find my way out when I saw all the messed up things that I did! I was so gutted.

After all my mistakes and my several addictions, my parents decided to leave me here, in this fucked up place far away from everybody. They left me alone. Day after day, night after night, I was consumed by my anger, my rage. I didn't have someone in here to talk to. I mean, I had twice a week an appointment with the shrink, but I didn’t talk even once with him. Pill after pill, the doctor and nurse who took care of me used to say, “When you get out from here, you will feel better.”  How can I feel better if I was born completely broken? I can’t.

I always dreamt to become a best-selling writer, like my mother. But my obsession took me to the wrong path and lead me to some bad people and awful places.  

As I was walking through the rehab center’s main hallway, the anguish of seeing them again, took me over, and my thoughts about my whole family was seized in my mind, screaming all the things they all said to me before the rehab, "You are sick;" "You need help;" and “We don’t know what to do with you.”

Shit!

But all my thoughts vanished as soon as I saw them on the other side of the glass door waiting for me; my brothers and my parents — a fucking little perfect family. Fuck, how I hate them!

My mother, as always, had her light blond hair perfectly done, with perfect makeup on her white face and she had those classic clothes on her; a tight knee-length white skirt, a light blue blouse with a white coat and a high heel light blue shoes. My father was the real surprise here because he never wears a black suit with a white shirt and a black tie; he wears it only when he has a big case or a big client in his company.  Hey, Dad, it’s not my funeral, yet! It's bizarre to see him inside of that clothes, painful even. Then my brothers are just my brothers – jeans and a plain t-shirt.

My brothers are twins. They were born only a couple of minutes apart. Owen is older than Tom, but they are too different. Then, of course, I came a year after them.

My mother always told me that she felt blessed the day she heard she was pregnant again. Despite never understanding why it happened, because she took every precaution not to get pregnant again, I wanted to believe that I had been a fucking mistake in their lives, which I remain to be. A completely fucked up mistake! Who knows! If she had not decided to give birth to me, I wouldn't be here and that thought makes me comfortable because I wouldn't be feeling like a piece of shit in this world.

I walked out through the glass door toward them. My dad picked up my bag that the nurse carried out, while my mother looked at me with a stupid expression on her face while trying to hug me awkwardly. But I didn’t give her that opportunity. I shrugged her off. All I wanted was distance from her and all my family.

Finally, we left the rehab center, and until we got home, I didn't say a single word despite my mother's failed attempts to make me talk. Four hours after we left the rehab center, I saw the house right in front of me. That giant white building with two floors; and beyond the black gates, there's a big entrance in parallel, where I used to park my car so that I could wash it. Then we could see the five gates of the massive garage we had. The rest of it was just big enough to match the house. It was all just too big in there— but nothing was much bigger than my mother’s ego.

I didn't realize how big that house was until that day. I was overwhelmed with fear and anger; fear of seeing and entering that house again – that room that was once mine, and which still was, but it was strange to come back!

Very odd, indeed.

I was also angry because this house was a bad place for me. In fact, I didn’t have a lot of good memories there. The only things I liked in that house was the pool and my private ocean view, and it would be just perfect if I could see the full sunset like Mrs. Gladys saw from her back yard!

My father parked the car in front of the main door. My brothers took my suitcase from the trunk, and I started to get uncomfortable as I waited for my mother to open the door for me to go straight to my room. I didn't want to be with them, because for me, the more distance from them, the better it was for me.

With the door opened, my mother entered first and then me.

"Surprise!" a group of people screamed as I entered.

What the fuck is this!? Behind those people, my whole family on both sides, was some shitty banner that said, "Welcome Home Neva."

Oh, fuck. I'm going to have to put up with this now?

I looked at my mother's face. She was seemingly happy to have prepared this large reception. My brothers entered the foyer and stayed by my side while my father took up my bag. I didn't know what to say or do, but it was clear by my facial expression that I don’t want any of this shit!

"Come and say hi to your uncles, and your cousins…" my mother started saying. My furious gaze looked at her blue eyes, not letting her finish the ridiculous sentence that came out of her mouth.

Without further ado, and not wanting to be told that I was being rude, I climbed the stairs to go to my room. Each stair was another step closer to my room, the room that I destroyed before being sent to the rehab center.  I walked slowly towards it and I stopped in front of the door, which was open. My father had left my bag on top of my bed, but he was no longer inside. He probably must have gone to his bedroom to wear a more comfortable outfit as he always does, like his grey tracksuit.

I was a little apprehensive about entering my bedroom again because the last memory I had in the room was too ugly and painful. But I knew I had to, I couldn’t occupy the guest room because I didn’t know who would stay there on this fucking special day.

I took two steps forward and stood at the doorway, looking around. The cork wall behind my desk no longer existed and the rest of the room was now painted in yellow. My three adjacent shelves were still packed with all my books, including the one that I had not finished reading; it was in the same place as I had left it. On my desk was my cell phone connected to the charger, and have a new Mac computer. My bed, my nightstands, and my drawer were brand-new; all were white. Well, now I had a king-size bed. 

How lucky I am? I pondered in my mind in a sarcastic tone.