Give Me Hope In The Darkness

I woke up to the sound of silence. A cool breeze caressed my face from the window I'd left open and the smell of coffee filled my nostrils as I slowly peeled back the duvet that covered the bottom half of my body, stretching and feeling my bones click into place. Squinting my eyes at the bright sunlight that streamed it's way about the room, the rays bouncing off the blank walls, I looked to the small beside table to find my black alarm clock that read 6:19AM. I groaned, wishing to fall back asleep but I knew that once I was awake, I couldn't drift off into dream land again. I'd only just managed to fall asleep at 2:00AM at least.

Sitting on the side of my bed, I stared at the ivory knitted jumper that I'd hung up against the wardrobe last night. I could see the particles of dust that was displayed through the suns rays, drift and twirl around it, making it look eerily beautiful. I thought back to the time when I was packing and I'd gotten a call from my mum. She expected me to throw it out seeing as though it was unwearable but I didn't have the heart. This was the only thing I had left of his and I wasn't going to throw it away as though it meant nothing.

Feeling my most recent wounds throb about my arms, I decided to remove the thin jumper I'd worn just in case my father was up earlier than usual and came to check on me. I breathed a sigh of relief, feeling the air touch and heal them at it's own accord but I also felt a tremendous amount of guilt. Laying it beside me, I turned my attention to the pink and white marks that marked nearly every inch of my upper thighs. I traced each point the blade touched and relived the moment when each inch of skin opened and released a flow of crimson coloured tranquillity. No one knew I still did this. They were never going to know, especially not here. I couldn't bare the thought of reliving that torment.

I stood and paced the room, gently in case the floorboards creaked dramatically and it was then, out the corner of my eye, I saw a figure standing outside the front of next door. I approached the window, careful not to make any sudden movements at the strange, idiotic thought that he may hear me. His back was to me, leaning against the edge of porch and a cloud of smoke surrounded him, a mop of black, messy hair shining and looking on point with the suns assistance. He wore a black leather jacket, slightly rolled up to just underneath his elbow, revealing a pale complexion from what I could gather. I could see the shape of his legs due to the tight, fitted black jeans that clung to him, displaying legs that he should in no way be ashamed of. He seemed familiar to me somehow and I wondered if he was the curious neighbour that I'd seen looking out his window last night. I wanted him to turn around, purely because I was so curious as to see his face.

He threw the cigarette butt suddenly, after at least a few minutes of me watching him. He was graceful in his movements, his shoulders slightly hunched over, as he shoved a hand into his pocket, the other running through his thick mass of hair. Picking up a bag I hadn't noticed was there beside his feet, he began to walk down the steps and further away from the house, slowly and easily, as if he had nowhere to be. He intrigued me but I got the feeling that I should steer clear of him. He had this certain allure about him, mysterious and what made it more so was that I hadn't even seen his face. I crossed my arms and rested my chin carefully on top of them, careful not to re-open any cuts and it was then, I wish I'd taken back what I wanted.

He stopped. His body steadily going up right as he slowly turned his heard to look back at his house, his hair still covering a good portion of his face. It was then his eyes crawled towards the side of my house and followed the drain pipe until it reach my window, his eyes meeting my own.

I felt shivers tingle up and down my spine violently as he slowly smiled at me, pushing back his hair, revealing a beautiful face. “A ray fell on his features; the cheeks were sallow...the brows lowering, the eyes deep-set and singular. I remembered the eyes.” Upon seeing his curious stare, my mind flickered between the haunting pages of Wuthering and I remembered every single detail of Heathcliff's eyes, dark and mystifying and something that was indeed threatening.

I tore my gaze away from him, the heat in my cheeks rising as I pinned my body against the wall, attempting to steady my breaths. I stood there guarded, leaving it a few moments before I peered outside the house once more, this time, the mysterious boy gone. I felt just as I had last night, fixated and intrigued by whatever stare that person could muster. It then slowly dawned on me that if he lived next door then I was bound to run into him. The thought in fact frightened me and I felt my skin crawl at the idea of it.

Finally being able to pick myself up off the floor, I found my Nirvana jumper and grey sweatpants, and dressing quickly, I made my way down the stairs in hope that the coffee may have already been made. Upon entering the living room, I saw the TV silently jumping through static and it momentarily drew my mind to the horror film Poltergeist. My eyes glanced to find my father asleep on the sofa, snoring unpleasantly and I knew what he'd already been up to. I turned to go into the kitchen, hoping to find the coffee but alas, it was still in it's container. I flicked the kettle on, finding the biggest mug, and placed two spoonful of the beauty in the mug and waited patiently, leaning against the counter. By the sink I'd seen the empty beer cans, at least six I think and I shuddered at the potential hangover my father may or may not have this morning.

I didn't want to say that my father was a alcoholic. I knew he drank a little more than he should but I honestly believe he didn't have to drink it in order to get through his day. He only drank in the evenings...every evening. My mother said I was in denial but I ignored her statement every time she shot it towards me. She claimed that it was one of the reasons she left (aside and that she couldn't handle it anymore. I personally didn't want to know the reasons why my parents fell out of love. It scared me but my brother was very persistent to know. The idea of marriage or love has completely been batted out of my brain. I knew that the state I was in, I'd certainly have no man interested in having me as a girlfriend or wife.

The kettle flicked, pulling me from my daydream, and I continued to make my coffee. Having been up so early, I decided to also take my folic acid and anti-depressants medication. It was a drag to take, mainly because they made me nauseous seeing as though I was recommended to eat with them, but I soon get over it. It was also a pain because they said I shouldn't drink while on them. It never stopped me before.

Carrying my mug upstairs, after finding a blanket in one of the boxes to place over my father, I decided that I myself would begin to unpack my boxes, hopefully having it complete by the time school begins on Monday. I put the mug on the bedside table, glancing at the blank walls, calculating which posters and pieces of art should go where. I was thankful that'd we'd had the moving vans come a day before, my mother and Hugh helping them bring the boxes inside. The house was bare but if my father were to wake up soon, it should be home once again in no time. The room I was given was directly opposite the window I'd seen the figure last night looking out from. I'd have to make a note of keeping those curtains closed at all time to save myself from some kind of embarrassment.

I firstly unpacked all my clothes, placing them in the white oak draws, and wardrobes, smiling every time I came across a band tee. I was obsessed with music, comics, art and movies, anything to take me away from reality. I had formed my own reality in my head, everything I loved merging into one without complication. I was perfect there...until the real thoughts came, destroying every dream id ever concocted. It was painful to realise that actual life I led. I had a father who cared but was destroying himself ever since his own dreams fell. A mother who divorced her husband for another man to then move six hours away from her only daughter and finally a brother who seemed to stay as far away as possible from me...I repelled him. My grandfather was the one who understood. That was until he got dementia. He forgot me. He didn't know who I was in his final months of life, until one last time on his death bed.

I looked over again at the jumper, smiling sadly at his favourite piece of clothing. His wife, my grandma had knitted it for him when they first got married. She had to keep mending it for him over the years until she was suddenly gone. That's why it had become so tattered. He had no one left to fix it for him. He didn't want anyone else.

After folding my last pair of black jeans into the draw and placing my converse and doc martins beneath the window, I then moved onto posters, mentally thanking myself for even putting blue tac in the box. I carefully unrolled each one, finding my book box to use to hold them down in place, lying them flat out on the floor. I spied my Nirvana, The Smiths, David Bowie, Frankenstein, Fleetwood Mac, Gone With The Wind, Dracula and Wuthering Heights posters, extremely pleased that I'd had decided to purchase them. They were only to name a few. Many of my 'posters' were old magazine cut outs that I couldn't stand being hid away in the attic. I even had a Frank Sinatra magazine clipping. He was my Grandfather's favourite singer of all time. The love was slowly passed to me which surprised my family, considering the other kind of music I listened to.

By the time I'd laid out everything, unloaded every box so my room looked as though it was a bomb site, it was nearing 11 o'clock and I wondered whether or not my mum would actually come over to help, that is if she weren't too busy with Hugh. My mother would normally say one thing and do the complete opposite to truly 'appease him'. I couldn't stand him.

My dad eventually came in, looking a little sorry for himself, and he found himself a place by my desk where I'd already began to place my art supplies and canvas'.

“You've been a busy bee this morning Dee.” He said looking around the room, fairly impressed with what I had achieved.

“I want it to be ready as soon as possible. You know, before I start school so I'd have one less thing to worry about.”

“Good thinking.” He said, stealing a quick sip from my newly made coffee. “Has your mother been yet?”

“No. I don't know if she is going to come over.”

“Of course she is. She said she would and you know she doesn't like to let you down.” I hummed in response, not entirely believing his statement but deciding not to counter it. “Now, I was thinking after I've had my shower we could go through some of the photo's downstairs, pick our favourites to put up?”

I smiled, accepting his offer. As he stood by the door, he glanced at the jumper and then back to me, looking down sadly at me, offering me a tight smile before he left. Of course my father was upset by the passing of my Grandfather, I mean, it was the man who'd raised him. My Grandfather was the rock of the family, helping me find my passions and giving Donnie his confident boost to help him achieve anything he wanted. He never succeeded in doing that to me. That was one of the major differences between Donnie and I. He was confident and I wasn't. It was just the way it was, no matter how hard my Grandfather tried to help me break free from my shell.

An hour later, with a fresh cup of coffee in both hands, I made my way to the kitchen table where we'd placed picture upon picture across the wood, trying to find the right ones to put in the frames. Many that my father had chosen had no traces of my mother in them but a great deal of his father and children. I had no objections, seeing as though I had my small collection of photos upstairs, I think it made my father happy to know what I was doing at that time.

Without warning, the front door suddenly swung open, the sound of my mothers voice filling the rooms however she was in fact talking directly at someone. My father and I shared a glance before tentatively standing from our chairs.

“Tony? Dee Dee?” My mother suddenly shouted, causing my father to lunge forward, closer to the door to save her from shouting any more.

“Yes Jane, we're here-...oh.” I quickened my steps so I was standing beside my father and I surely had the same reaction as he did. My father and I weren't great in social situations however my mother blossomed and put us to shame.

There in our threshold stood a young boy, most likely my age and an older woman. The boy was tall, a bit taller than me seeing as though I remained at a comfortable 5 ft 7. He was lanky, smiling shyly between my father and I as he held his head back a little, watching us from the glasses that were placed at the end of his noise. From what I could see beneath his beanie, he seemed to have mousy coloured hair that he'd attempted to straighten but was now in fact flicking off in all different directions. I had his hands shoved in his pockets, wearing tight jeans (not as tight in fact as the other boy I'd seen earlier this morning but tight enough).

I could see a resemblance between them as I quickly studied them. They both had thin, straight nose, warm eyes and defined features on their face. The woman had bright blonde hair, upon meeting you could tell was dyed with bright red lip stick. She seemed as though she was about to go somewhere far fancier than here.

“Tony, Dee Dee, this is Mikey and Donna Way, they live next door to you. Mikey, Donna this is my daughter and her father.” My mother introduced as my father reached his hand out to shake both of theirs which Donna willingly accepted with a smile, Mikey, reacting a little as to how I would in a situation.

Next door? Was this the family of the boy i'd seen this morning?

“Please come in.” My father motioned, stepping back, causing me to follow in his suite before I could think any further. “We just made coffee, would you guys like some?”

“I'm okay thank you.” Donna said, shining him another bright smile before turning to her son. “What about you sweetheart?”

“Yes please.” He spoke softly, warily. I thought I'd try and help him out.

“Sugar and milk?” I spoke for the first time causing everyone to turn and look at me as though I had five heads. He nodded, smiling again at me before I turned around and made my way into the kitchen, already knowing to fix a cup of tea for my mother as well.

There wasn't an awkward atmosphere when I returned with a tray full of drinks into the living room. Mainly, my mother and Donna were continuing some kind of mothers meeting as my father sometimes said his peace in the matter. I noticed Mikey had said nothing as he sat there, twiddling his thumbs, most likely unsure of what to say or was potentially bored. I completely understood the position he was in. The amount of times my mother had made me do this was ridiculous. None of the kids my age wanted to be my friend anyway. I was a freak to them. I wondered if Mikey thought the same.

“How's Gerard getting on with school then? Is he still sticking through it?” My mother asked, however she must have noticed my confused expression. “Oh, Gerard is Donna's other son, Mikey's older brother.” I slowly nodded, knowing that this had to be the same boy from this morning. His must have been heading into school this morning. The thought of his eyes watching me caused me to shiver involuntary.

“Gerard's doing brilliantly.” Donna replied. I thought I heard Mikey scoff slightly but I was unsure seeing as no one had heard it. “He is such a brilliant artist but he refuses to let anyone see his work. Even Mikey doesn't see it.”

“He's a pretty private person.” Mikey included.

“As is Dakota.” My father pointed. “Has a brilliant mind but refuses to let anyone see the world the way she sees it.” I looked at him, almost as if to give him 'if you don't stop talking, I'll kill you' look but Donna had already commented with a delighted squeal.

“So you love your art as well?” She smiled at me, leaning forward as she rested her forearms onto her thighs. She gave this very open personality that in a strange sensed calmed me. I smiled shyly and answered.

“I adore it. I think I've loved it since the moment I could hold a pencil.”

“That's true. She was drawing pictures all over the walls as soon as she learnt how to write. The amount of paint we had to buy...” My mother trailed off, shaking her head and thinking of old times when everything was most likely easier.

“Oh well, you, Gerard and Mikey will have to hang out some time then.” Donna offered, slightly wary as she caught a glance with my mother.

“Maybe.” My mother spoke.

The conversation between the parents began to pick up again leaving Mikey and I with nothing to respond with. To be nice I suppose, I wasn't quite sure why I was doing it, but I gestured for him to see if he wanted another coffee. He smiled and nodded, standing slowly from the sofa before following me out into the kitchen.

“Wow. That's a lot of photo's.” He commented, pointing towards the table.

“I know, my dad and I were picking out pictures we wanted to hang about on the wall. He suddenly decided he didn't like the pictures we had in our last house.” He nodded. I motioned that it was okay for him to sit down and as he settled him self, I could sense he was slowly becoming more confident.

“Where exactly did you move from?”

“Portland. Pain in my ass to get down here though.” I chuckled. “Have you always lived here?”

“Born and raised.” He grinned, slightly pushing his glasses further up his nose. I placed both of the coffees on the table before taking a seat across from him, shifting some other photo's to make room.

“Are you still in school?”

“Yeah, starting my senior year on Monday. Your mum said you were too. I can't imagine moving so far from home to then start school so soon.” He sympathised.

“I'm not looking forward to it if I'm honest but I'm glad to have met someone already. I'm not really a people person.” I shrugged.

“Neither am I...or my friends or brother. We just kinda all exist together, you know?” He shrugged. “You seem like the kinda person to fit in with my buddies, I mean, you've got the right taste in music. My brother would certainly approve of you.” I choked a little on my coffee, thinking on the potential idea that Gerard could have been the boy. He must have been, there was no two ways around it. I decided to try and discreetly ask with out looking too weird or admitting to the fact I'd spied on him this morning if Gerard was in fact this boy.

“Is it just you, your brother and your mum in the house?”

“Nah, my dad's there too but he's always away. It kinda get tedious after a while, especially after Gerard's...never mind.” He said with a nervous chuckle. “But yeah...”

“Has your brother got black hair...wears a lot of black?” I said, perhaps not as subtly as I wanted to.

“Yeah, why you know him?” He ask, his brows furrowing in minor confusion.

“Oh no, I was just up fairly up this morning and had a cigarette on the porch. I spotted him outside your house at about six o'clock.”

“Yeah...he has to go to the city most mornings for class and stuff, then he just comes home and does nothing really...well not nothing but nothing...important really.” He shrugged.

“Nothing important?”

“My brothers a bit of a party animal.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah but you know, he's nice enough to me so it's all good. Probably when he finishes school it will calm down.” He offered, most likely more to himself than to me.

“How old is he?”

“Twenty one. He took a gap year finding a job and getting some money together before going back into education. I'm not sure if he's happy with they way he did it but...he can't really do much else now...”

Mikey and I had talked for another hour at least before Donna had said it was time for them to leave. Honestly, Mikey was amazing and nothing like his brother. I now had more of a chance of running into Gerard if I was going to school with his younger brother, especially as Mikey mentioned they had a good sibling relationship and the thought scared me. Maybe Gerard would mention the fact to Mikey that there was a freak living next door to them. My brain truly does love to overthink everything.

Once moving from the topic of Gerard, however not much revealed except he likes art, goes to college and drinks, we talked about music, films and video games. He said he'd recently gotten the new ridge racer and crash bandicoot games that I was as eager as ever to play. We agreed we'd have to play it some time after school started, seeing as though he and Donna were going out to visit his dad this weekend. Mikey described it as the final vacation of his summer and his first official trip since turning 18 . He'd only turned 18 a few days ago and he sadly admitted that he felt no different but he mentioned that Gerard said “ You never felt different when you physically aged but when you did mentally.” Mikey said Gerard could come out with strange optimistic bullshit sometimes but he knew he never believed it.

“He says it for my sake.” Mikey continued, explaining his already somewhat complicated brother whom I hadn't even met but merely seen twice in one day.

We also talked about how his friends at school were crazy but loveable. He also said how he wasn't really that popular but Mikey was such a sweet guy, I didn't care about any of that. He was fairly confident I'd get on with...Frank and Vee, I think but of course, I was still wary.
After the Way's had left, my parents and I resumed to finding suitable photo's for the particular frames before moving onto budging bit and pieces of furniture around in the living. I supposed it would take quite a lot of tomorrow to finish it, but it would be worth it. I just wanted my father happy.

Notes