The day was covered by darkness, the sky a dull gray. Hidden by the ominous clouds, the sun wasn’t in sight. The air taunted of damp grass and fresh rain, even though it never rained. It all looked abandoned, all except for one small boy alone on the swings, relishing in memories there every day.
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Small cracks of light, coming through the drapes that weren’t completely closed, were shining in Adabel’s bright emerald eyes. Turning to her side a headache blazed into her brain, spreading like wildfire. Very slowly, she built up the energy to get out of the, now disheveled bed; whose blankets had become like a trap to her.
The headache was getting worse, but Adabel had become accustomed to living with it. Standing in front of the mirror, she looked at the reflection with disgust etched into her features. She ignored the sight; she didn’t bother to brush out her wavy brown hair… no point in making it frizzy. “I already look bad enough,” she thought to herself while pulling it into a bun. Grabbing a sweat shirt and her keys, she went out into the cool air of the autumn day.
Watching others, she thought of nothing as she walked around her small town. Hoping she would see one sign of kindness, in this world she knew all but too well. She crossed a small bridge over a tiny stream that was probably at one point a beautiful river. Past the woods of the large, practically abandoned park was a beaten down play set for children, including a small slide with a hole punched through the middle and a swing set with only two swings left and the remains of the third. It was as if the wind was carrying sounds of the children of the past that used to play among it.
It all looked abandoned, all except for one small boy alone on the swings. Adabel hadn’t noticed him until she was two feet in front of him. He was only about ten, five years younger than she. He seemed as though he hadn’t noticed her either, but in reality he was wondering why anyone had come to this old beat down park.
Who is he? Adabel thought as she went to sit on the swing next to the young boy. She rolled her sleeves down even though they were too long for her arms and only showed the tips of her fingers. Watching the child, she began to push herself on the swing. He looked tired; dark circles had made a home under his dull gray eyes. They looked similar to the dark circles she had. His chestnut brown hair became disheveled in the strong wind.
“Didn’t your mother ever tell you it is rude to stare?” He said finally looking up at her
“No.” Adabel replied while she fidgeted with her hands in her lap. ”She left me and my dad when I was a baby.”
“I’m sorry.” He said.
“No you’re not, you just regret saying anything about it.”
“No, I understand. My mother died a while back. It’s okay though, I saw it coming, she was depressed for a long while before. It finally got to her, found her hanging from the ceiling fan when I got home from school one day.” He said with a sad smile.
“Who are you?” Adabel asked; astonished at the bluntness he used when talking of his mother.
“I’m Imre.” He replied extending his hand for a handshake. She took it and shook it lightly. When she went to pull her hand back he held it a bit tighter and grabbed onto her sleeve and rolled it up, revealing many white scars, some fresh and new giving a red tinge on her arm.
Imre loosened his grip and she yanked her arm free. Adabel’s face grew warm becoming red with rage and she stopped the rocking of her swing by slamming her feet on the ground.
“You don’t have to be alone ya’ know,” He told her, “I’m here every day, when you’re ready to talk.”
Without saying another word, Adabel jumped up and started to walk away, pulling down her sleeves as she went. Before she could control herself she was running, tears starting to brew in her eyes, spilling over the brim, making her long eyelashes clump together and blurring the world around her.
And there it was again, the pounding back in her head as she slumped down against the back of her bedroom door. No one had been able to see through her fake smile before. She had always been able to just dismiss people of their concern by saying she was tired and tell them she got cold easily to cover the cuts on her arms. Imre had seen straight through her in the few minutes they had sat together.
Adabel wiped her tears and walked to the table beside her bed, she opened up the drawer and took out an old pocket knife. She had found it in her dad’s old tool box and figured he wouldn’t notice it was gone, and he didn’t.
Adabel’s father, Mr.Jones, was only home for seven hours a day. He would come home wreaking of alcohol and, after he had sobered up, eat something with Adabel and then get some sleep. They weren’t very close, she practically hated him. Always thinking he didn’t care about her at all.
No wonder mom left him. Adabel thought to herself as she took out the knife, running the icy touch of the blade along her wrists. A small trail of red followed in the wake of the blade. Numbness was all she felt. How else was she supposed to know she was alive?
When she heard a car door slam she ran to her bathroom running the water of the faucet over her arms. The warm water burned her skin, turning it into a field of trees caught in a wildfire, skin blazing and turning raw. Hearing the soft vibrating buzz of the microwave heating up their so-called dinner, she knew her father was almost fully aware now. She heard the thump-thump-thumping of her father’s boots against the hard wooden floors growing louder as he got closer to the bathroom. His soft tapping of knuckles and muffled voice let her know to come sit with him and eat something. She turned the water off, pulling down her sleeves once again, exiting the bathroom, she already felt nauseous at the thought of food. She stared blankly ahead as she sat, making an excuse to not eat, lying saying she wasn’t hungry. As Mr.Jones ate, he talked about his work at the factory and some men at the bar after he left. It was nothing but a murmur to Adabel.
“Adabel!” he yelled as he slammed his hands down onto the table.
“Sorry, I stopped caring a long time ago about that stuff. You can repeat it if you want, but chances are I’m still not going to care.” Adabel muttered bluntly, looking Mr.Jones straight in the eyes.
“Adabel, stop pretending like you don’t have any emotions!” He yelled, louder at her this time.
“It’s not my fault you don’t notice there is something wrong with your only daughter! No wonder mom left you. You’re too self-centered to care about anyone but yourself!” She screamed. A hard force slammed against her cheek, blinding her for a moment in white hot pain. A ringing formed in her ears as she cupped her palm against her face. A dark bruise was already becoming noticeable on the sharp features of her cheek bone.
When they had both began to realize what had just happened they backed away from each other. Adabel ran into her room, slamming and locking the door then collapsing on the bed. Simply listening to the sounds of life around her, she didn’t sleep that night; instead, she stayed awake. She grabbed the pocket knife from her bedside table and climbed out her window. As soon as her feet hit the ground she took off running towards the park.
At least Mr.Jones wouldn’t have to be the one to find her dead, was all she was thinking of when she reached the park. Some random person will wind up finding me and they won’t even care, they don’t even know me. She reasoned to herself as she held the knife against her chest. Of course, it will take a while for someone to notice me, after all people barely ever come here. And as she thought this her eyes fell across the old play set and landed on a solemn figure sat on the swings. She remembered Imre and all he had been through. If she died he would have no one. Letting the knife relax from her grip, she began to walk to him.
“Take this.” Adabel said handing him he knife. “I can’t use it anymore.”
“Thank you. You don’t deserve it anyway. We just need to look out for eachother for a little while. We can be each other’s guardian angel.” Imre said. He was the only person Adabel had ever met that was able to read her like a book.
“You’re right we deserve better.” She said.
A small sprinkle of mist started to drizzle down on them. Adabel smiled as she sat on the swing next to Imre, extending her hand towards him. It began to pour with rain; the pitter-patter of raindrops felt comfortable as he took her hand.
“You’re smiling,” Imre stated watching her features for a hint, to tell if it was genuine, “for real this time.”
“I guess I finally have a reason to smile.”