going back to rose's

    
I tapped my fingers on my thigh in the cadence of everything I wished to say to my father. His beaten blue buick wasn't in the driveway though, it seemed I would miss my chance to say "Fuck you, you piece of shit asshole" to him or "leave him, or rot in the hell of your own creation" to Annabelle. My window was still cracked, the way it'd always been, the way I had left it. I lifted myself on the air conditioner and pressed my palms against the glass to raise it. In it out in twenty minutes, I told myself. 

SHE LEAVES SOMETHING IN KITCHEN

I'd made a mental list of all the things that I would need to gather, but standing in my room my mind felt blank. I sat down on my bed, and gently collapsed against my pillows. I pulled one close to me and held it tightly against my chest as I took a deep breath. I closed my eyes and felt a strong, sudden pull of sleep. I didn't have to do this, or anything. I could curl up in the fetal position and let the world go on without me. Or maybe he wouldn't come home. Maybe the house that became a sanctuary for my mother would finally become a sanctuary for me as well. I wouldn't even mind if it were just me and Annabelle. We would go about our days, leave each other to our own business, and live in peace. Sometimes, if I were up late and she came home from work, maybe I would offer to make her tea... 

Reveries tangled into each other as I thought of Mavis and her mother. I thought of the twins and 
I thought of how pleasant it would be to be reminded of their innocence each day. I thought about their pudgy, joyous faces and how if I could, I would protect them from every bad thing in this world. To scream at a child, or even a uncivil and contrarian teenager felt like an impossibility as distant as breaking into the agency and finding my mother. I willed myself to move but my fatigue felt as endless as my despair. 

I must've fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew I was watching mosquitoes through a hazy stream of dusky sunset. I'd left my window wide open. The a/c kicked on and the sudden gust of air sent some of the tormentors into dizzying spirals. Much like my own, I thought. The front door slammed. I knew by the way the draft stopper caught against the frame, and I knew by the shake of the drywall that it wasn't Annabelle. I didn't panic. I slipped off my bed and silently turned the lock on the knob. I took a long breath. Then, mechanically, and spurred by necessity, I began to gather my things. I didn't look at my phone. I'm sure the group was wondering what had happened to me but I'd get back to them when I could. One endless, hellish moment at a time.