The Life of Mia – A Famliar Face

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#22 – Previous parts in the serie can be found here. A weekly blog post where I share pieces of Mia’s story and journey (as I’m currently writing the novel!). 

They say the truth will set you free, but they leave out the part where it’ll first hurt and shatter everything. I rather hold on to the lie a little while longer, for ignorance is bliss.

****

I need to point out, professionalism aside, it should be illegal for me to break bad news to people. Understandably, I end up choking on my words, like in this very moment. But in all honesty, I wish to slap her! One, for suggesting such idiotic idea – it would give me such pleasure as I’ve always wanted to unleash something on her, anything just to get her of my back. Two, for not even showing any kind of care and respect for the whole situation. But at 3 am and with everything going on, I simply don’t possess any ounce of stamina, capability to breath regularly or yet alone keep my balance. Trying to understand how she could suggest such lunacy is beyond what I can wrap my head around.

“I mean, since you know more about the whole situation!” she says with her phone still attached to her ear. Whilst holding the spirit and attitude of any typical mean girl (which does not suit a supposedly grown woman).

“I…” my attempt to say anything fails, my brain’s not even able to think straight. How can she even ask me. I desperately try to think of something that can get her of my case, for now. Sadly, I fail at that too. The desire to unleash my frustration lingers on, though.

“It’s not her responsibility to do your job, Sara. ” 

The sudden sound of his voice behind me startles her. As for me, a sense of relief runs through my limbs and surprisingly, I notice my shoulders unknot and for what seems like a very long time without air, I can now breath again.

“Beside, I’m sure you’re more than capable to inform Emma’s father,” he frowns at her suggestion and the look on his face is serious and unrelenting. A new side of him I’ve yet witness, at work or private.

“You’re right, Nicholas. I’ll get to it!” she blurts out. And just like that the mean girl persona vanishes as she peels off back upstairs and disappears in the background. 

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Linda” she says returning to the poor individual on the other line, and just like that as if she did or said nothing wrong.

He turns his face to me, and at one sight I notice his familiar smile which transforms his stern face and in an instant moment he’s the Nicholas I’ve come to know.

“Are you ok?” he asks, and in this moment, in his present there is hope, a familiar face to lean on and a closeness to give solace to my inconsolable heart. And with his hand on my, an instant touch, reality silently retreats as we stand against a background of sheltering chaos. But Emma still battles and the clock ticks as they now rush her to the hospital.

“Oh, God, I can’t go through it again…” 

****

-A.B.-

The Life of Mia – Deep Cuts

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#21 – Previous parts in the serie can be found here. A weekly blog post where I share pieces of Mia’s story and journey (as I’m currently writing the novel!). 

They say the truth will set you free, but they leave out the part where it’ll first hurt and shatter everything. I rather hold on to the lie a little while longer, for ignorance is bliss.

*****

I didn’t expect nor prepare but then who in their right minds would. In the aftermath, silence and tranquility transforms itself into despair as I now find myself in a frantic state of mind. Every inch of me is trembling. It doesn’t take long before chaos erupts in the entire room, all in the midst of life and death. I’m able to move as my body stays frozen, like an image stuck in time; I feel numb. And in all blurriness, I notice blood on my hands from my attempt to stop the bleeding. The wall behind me, where I once stood in her room becomes my support and I watch, steps away, her motionless body as they try to bring her back. So far, no response but she’s yet to be gone. I notice more blood as they remove the towels I had wrapped around her wrist. Worst now becomes the reality I find myself in and in an instant it all changes and darkness reveals its true color.

“When did she cut herself?” she asks, and as a paramedic I’m sure she’s used to dealing with people in shock but from the look on her face, she’s hoping that I was still wearing my professional hat – set aside human emotions and provide her great insight.

“I..I..don’t know,” I stutter, hearing my words I can immediately hear the lack of certainty. For at some point, in all stillness, I stopped checking for the time. You know the saying, it’s always quiet before the storm hits? Well, the storm still rages on as the troubled girl I once held in my arms battles for her life; for a second chance, her return.

It’s all chaotic, madness even. On the floor, I’m in utter shock and attempting to process every small movement and every word while it all plays out in my head, but with all good reason everything seems to be operating at a faster pace. And unable to keep up, I rest on the realization that they know what they are doing. They have to, in order to save her.

“Emma, can you hear us?”

“Stay with us, Emma!”

As they call out her name, a tiny sense of hope compels my attention. But it doesn’t drown my helplessness, fear and trauma. If only I’d stayed by her side; wishing to turn back time floods the novelty of hope. It’s plain to see that time is crucial and I decide there’s no time to wallow in self-pity reminding myself the nightshift is not completely over and I’m still at work. I collect the courage and get myself back on my feet and aim at being of use to the boys who I’m sure are also affected by all of this.

As I make my way to the hallway, leaving the action behind, I bump into Sara who’s on the phone. As Emma’s primary contact at the house, she holds the responsibility to notify next of kin. In the midst of it all I must admit my first and only caller was Nicholas, not owing the fact that he’s office manager. As I approach her, I suspect it’s not Emma’s father on the other end who she’s talking to. As our eyes meet, she slowly nods at my direction with a firm look (the kind of looks that teacher give a kid as punishment for something they’ve done) and mouths ‘hello’. At my poor attempt of returning the same gesture I manage to draw a forced smile. Luckily, her focus shifts back to her conversation.

“…I agree, she’ll have to be admitted if it all goes well. It’s too risky to have her stay here.”

And just like that, as she fights for her life, her fate is now being decided as well as the duplicity of life tests my will. What’s my next move?

“…we’ll notify her father right away. Hold on. Mia! Perhaps, you can do that?!”

******

Happy Friday!

-A.B.-

The Life of Mia – Flaky Heart

#20 – Previous parts in the serie can be found here. A weekly blog post where I share pieces of Mia’s story and journey (as I’m currently writing the novel!). 

They say the truth will set you free, but they leave out the part where it’ll first hurt and shatter everything. I rather hold on to the lie a little while longer, for ignorance is bliss.

****

Lying next to Nicholas is soothing with his arms wrapped around me. My scars are open and beyond description but his gentle care calms my woes. In a moment we’re whole in the depth of our affection, both in too deep. We’re in awe in the moment and it feels as if the world outside doesn’t exist. 

Lost in a fantacy, we’ve won the war of us against them. Victorious of the price of pleasure as well as serenity while he’s managed to conquer my flaky heart, now fearfully open.

Emotions are boiling but I don’t dare to ask the words I’m thinking, all in fear of the answer. But under an euphoric spell I ask, 

“Would you stay with me?” I’m not quite sure of what I’m asking, only knowing I wish for this day to not come to an end. 

“Yes,” he whispers as he lands a kiss on my forehead. 

“For how long?” 

My insecurities come back to life and diminishes the war we seem to have won. I feel a sudden forceful jolt, I assume it’s reality sending its regards and reminder; the world outside awaits. 

“As long as you want me to.”

There is silent but I don’t mind as I hold on and inspect his every word; as-long-as-you-want-me-to. 

“I wish you could stay forever.” 

I sense fear inviting me but sensibly, I’m able to ignore its regards. Still, not before remembering how we got here and the skeletons that awaits my ruination. 
“Then, Forever it is.” 
His words casts away signs of uncertainties. In recollection, he did once say he loved me but my flaky heart was not on the receiving end. Though, it never is. Sadly, what my heart is uniting against is uncertain even to the cold hearted. But if it’s love, I’m sure to fall flat on my face before I accept the lunacy that is me, in all flakiness. 

******

PS: I apologize if the format is weird or out of place, is just that I’m away this weekend and had to write and publish the whole post from my smartphone.

Happy Friday 💕 

-A.B.-

The Life of Mia -Expect & Prepare

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#19 – Previous parts in the serie can be found here. A weekly blog post where I share pieces of Mia’s story and journey (as I’m currently writing the novel!). 

They say the truth will set you free, but they leave out the part where it’ll first hurt and shatter everything. I rather hold on to the lie a little while longer, for ignorance is bliss.

****

I seem to have put my education to great use. It’s two a.m.; If they could see me now. I’ve managed to keep everything under control and as I stand in the hallway admiring the quietness that surrounds the house, I feel a sense of relief. With my back against the wall, I slowly drop myself onto the floor, merely in solace that everything’s going to sort itself out. One would think working nights was all calm and rest (though, it usually is), but most people forget that, for troubled souls, nightfall becomes a platform for multitude of pain, sorrow and bad memories. And that the calmness surrounding nighttime erupts chaos and like a volcano, it all eventually explodes. In the stillness of things and between the boys retreating to their rooms (according to house rules) and Emma falling asleep, I have an appreciation for a moment alone in silence. And for that I gladly give myself a short time to reboot.

The feeling that my bladder might explode at any point alarms me. Back in her room, I check on her once more just to make sure before I take a quick break upstairs. Thankfully, the sound of her heavy breathing reinsures me to proceed.

Afterwards, I inspect the house and in the aftermath of an emotional breakdown from perhaps a suicidal teen, I make a quick phone call to a fellow nightwatcher at another youth house. But whenever I call (whenever I do remember to do so), I’m never certain of who’s going to be on the other line. This time though, it’s Siri, who’s kind enough to boost my confidence by confirming how handled things.Yet, her motivational boost doesn’t last long and her line of questions sends me in a circle of fear and doubts.

“You think she’ll sleep for the rest of the night?” Siri asks.

In my mind it’s a yes and a no answer in which I can’t be too sure of. But my reply is simple “I hope so.” Which I truly do, for she needs it, above all, I realize more than ever that she’s in pain and seeks relief but what’s more relevant is who or what will offer it to her.  I understand why death is an easy choice.

“Not to scare you or anything,” she pauses which is never a good thing to do and at worst to start a sentence with ‘not to scare you but…’. Her words brings chill to my spine. I don’t easily get scared and I like to think of myself as a solution oriented, however, mostly when it comes to other people’s problems and misfortunes. But way to go on not putting the fear in me, Siri.

“From experience it’s quiet before the storm hits. I’ve been made aware of her situation and I’ll assist in anyway possible, but…” she continues, she sounds confidence but to my frustration, I can’t fathom her need to halt as if it’s storytelling and there’s a need to increase the suspense. I’ve got plenty of suspense already (like working nights and being afraid, not of the dark but of dark rooms!). She truly gives the impression that we’ve got all night, ironically though, we do. 

“…but,” and she’s back “…you should keep watch all night and be prepared for the worst.”

I know the drill of analyzing and to assess any type of situations. To be prepared. I guess, this is the part of the job I particularly find exhausting; expecting or even preparing for the worst as if life doesn’t provide enough bad luck, we have to create imaginative ones. I mean, I can expect and prepare for the worst but my worst are usually dark or distorted from reality, which serves no purpose. 

Siri and I don’t share much afterwards and we keep our experiences to ourselves. Yet, I suspect she’s hoping to not hear from me any time soon. We say our goodbyes and hang-up. I’m hoping whatever worst case scenarios Siri has in mind will remain there.

****

-A.B.-

The Life of Mia – Put To The Test

#18 – Previous parts in the serie can be found here.

A weekly blog post where I share pieces of Mia’s stories and journey (as I’m currently writing the novel!)

*****

I failed in my attempt to erase it all from my memory. It all plays out in my head: lying down in a bed whilst unable to move no matter my efforts, then realizing I was incapable of movement. I felt no fear but shame and blame. I kept repeating my mantra as if it would make everything better; “Breath and you’ll make it through.”  But I wanted to stop. I wanted him to stop. I could feel everything, his wrath on top of me. The beating of my heart felt as if life was taunting me. Every sign of life or movement felt like an insult. I remember staring at a blurry image which reeked of alcohol. The sound of his breathing, the rough touch of his hands and my silent cry that nobody could hear. He was in, out and then over. I could have stopped it and no one could convince me otherwise. The memories of last night are still vivid. A night when sensibility got outruled by spontaneity and one’s will is put the test. Once again.

 

Happy Friday!

-A.B.-

The Life of Mia – Playing With Fire

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Pt. 17 – Previous parts in the serie can be found here.

A weekly blog serie where I share pieces of Mia’s stories and journey (as I’m currently writing the novel!)

******

I thrive in men’s beastly, long fixed stare that reveal they only want one thing, that something I can provide thus with no strings attached. For it’s what I seek while I hide from anything that may resemble a truth. In the art of seduction a woman holds power but loses strength when a man flexes his muscles. If hurt in the process, I tell myself I’m deserving of their punishment. Full aware that playing with fire will burn, that there are risks in which I choose to ignore. Risks that even those who vouch their love to me ignore themselves. But I’ve reasoned with the illogical – assuring myself that at least with fire I’m able to feel something and let the burn take over my numbness.

-A.B.-

The Life of Mia – Wounds of Comfort

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Pt. 17 – Previous parts in the serie can be found here.

A weekly blog serie where I share pieces of Mia’s stories and journey (as I’m currently writing the novel!)

Her wounds gave her too greater comfort for anything else. Although, I sat and watched over her as she slept, I suspected that shutting her eyes didn’t offer relief but imagery. The night was sedated, seconds felt as if we were stuck and time kept us waiting. I felt disquieted, there was no crisis but I was impatience to embrace the first light. But first, all I had to do was get us through the night.

****

-A.B-

The Life of Mia – Behind Her Hazel Eyes (2)

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Pt. 16 – Previous parts in the serie can be found here.

A weekly blog serie where I share pieces of Mia’s stories and journey (as I’m currently writing the whole novel!)

******

I wait patiently but I notice my right foot tapping immensely. A habit I have whenever I’m feeling uncomfortable or fearful of the unknown. And right now, I fear any uncertain outcomes that may be coming my way. If she doesn’t come out soon I will be force to unlock the door.

I check for the time. It’s only been five minutes.

Continue reading

The Life of Mia – Behind Her Hazel Eyes (1)

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Pt. 15 – Previous parts in the serie can be found here.

A weekly blog serie where I share pieces of Mia’s stories and journey (as I’m currently writing the book version!) Mia – the rebellious one, struggles to leave the past behind and face her fears. It’s been clear, long before, that the choices she makes tend to her in trouble. But what happens when the present forces her to let out a long kept secret?

*****

It’s Saturday night and my second night shift is starting to take its toll on me. I can sense her brutal wish to escape the ‘big brother’ surveillance. Who can blame her, I would want to escape too (mind you I have). I don’t want to shadow her every move but it’s the order I’ve been given. Having been in her shoes once, I’ve come to experience that honesty is the best policy. Therefore, I don’t try to hide it. It’s obvious I’m watching her every move and to ease my guilt, I tell myself it’s for her own good.

I can see the resignation on her face, showing her contempt before she marches down the stairs to the basement. Unexpectedly she stops in her tracks and faces me. “Is this necessary?”, she asks but she continues off before I can answer. I know that face of resignation. If you ask my mother and Maddie, they would probably explain in details; that I’m a pro at making it.

I remember all too well when the workers at the “home” where I was staying  for trouble teens always gave it a name – I was either being difficult or complicated – at times, both. Back then, mother defined me as trouble who needed to be dealt by professionals and with absolute causion. And with any unhappy expressions on my face resulted in me being difficult. If I gave a sigh, I was being too dramatic. Everything coming from an emotion point of view was scrutinized and analyzed. So, in this moment where the table’s have turn on me, I understand this young girl’s resignation and the rolling of the eyes.

She’s been living here, this safe haven for troubled teens, for almost a year. Reading her files I discover why she is “troubled” and recently suicidal at the age of 16. The protocol now was to shadow her every movement when awake. Lock away all sharp elements and keep her feeling secure. It’s all just a cry for help, they said during the meeting on Wednesday. I say, don’t underestimate a cry. One tear can evoke an ocean.

“Well…” I start whilst checking our surrounding, I’ve never liked the basement. Too many rooms and I could never find myself to check every one of them in fear of evil lurking on the other side of the door. But I also turn around to check if anyone’s eavesdropping our conversation. She enters her room, arms cross and gives me a ‘what-do-you-have-to say’ look. I continue my rant, which is what it sounds to me whenever they talked or explained something. “It’s probably not nescessery, Emma. But it’s protocol.” 

As I finish my rant I want to comfort her but I know she’ll only push me away. I want to tell her she’ll make it through and maybe, just maybe things will get better. For that’s the thing, we don’t know for we know nothing of the future and remember everything of the past. She seems anxious. Lost even. I want to pull her closer and give her a hug (that particular hug the right people never gave me in needed times) but I don’t, we maintain our distance. She pulls away and starts fumbling while cleaning her room. Mind that the time is almost midnight. An hour until silence is supposed to surround the house from noisy boys and their action movies filled with heavy explosions and wounded hero and heroines that always seem to win in the end. Unlike reality.

I mind my business and keep my distance while she seems occupied. She pretends I’m not present and passes me from one side of her room to her bathroom, leaving a trail of clothes and eventually slamming the door behind her. Three minutes passes. I try to avoid knocking. I’m pretty sure shadowing her further in will break several acts and conventions. I wait. And for a brief moment I sense that silence seems unrealistic to expect as this girl’s demons appear to be tormenting her. Ergo, my hope for quiet hours of complete darkness quickly vanishes into thin air.

****

Pt. Two of ‘Behind Her Hazel Eyes’ will be posted next Friday!

Happy Friday

-A.B.-

The Life of Mia – Walk Away

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Pt. 14 – Previous parts in the serie can be found here.

A weekly blog serie based on the character Mia – the rebellious one, who struggles to leave the past behind and face her fears. It’s been clear, long before, that the choices she makes tend to her in trouble. But what happens when the present forces her to let out a long kept secret?

******

It takes me seconds to act on impulses and a lifetime spent in regret. And now, here I am as it’s a little too late to cancel. For future references all it takes is a cup of tea and a hidden note for me to back down. For me to forget my promise. One taste and I’m hooked.

The next day, it’s Tuesday – on my day off we find ourselves rejoiced in craziness once again. I couldn’t say no at his  reluctant request to meet for coffee. With regret I ask what could possibly go wrong. It’s just coffee and not to mention at a public place. Therefore, we’re bound to be on our best behavior.

In the midst of justifying everything to myself, I search long and hard for any reason for being here. I don’t owe him anything, of this I’m sure. Neither does he. But I can’t seem to let it all go. I want a clean end to our duplicity. I’m hoping we will laugh, agree to move on and avoid drama. Alas, I can’t be certain if that’s what I want – for it to be over.  

He comes back to the table with two drinks; the scent of my long chai latte is fuming. And there is no doubt that he’s got hooked. The stupidity of being Mia, I guess.

I confuse love and lust. Always have and always will. But once in while I give permission to admire his gentle and kind ways. Adonic with eyes easy to entrap any damsel in distress. And perhaps one of few left with a gentleman genes in the city. He is calm which can be mistaken for shyness at times. Sometimes I find him to be quiet the pensive type challenging my worrisome outlook on life.

Outside the evening rush hour begins to reign the streets of Stavanger. It’s pouring rain, the kind of rain one runs from to find shelter, even dogs. The heavy drops sends the city in a stressful atmosphere as people pace and race through traffic and multitude of soaking souls.

Inside, we manage to drown the sound of high-pitched laughter from the girls on the other side of the cafè. I find myself staring at my coffee hoping he’ll break the silence between us.

“Are you well rested?” he asks, to my relief.

“Yes. I slept like a baby.” But like those baby who wake up every hour or when they lose their pacifier. However, I don’t quite know what sooths me back to sleep but I wake up anyway (it’s become a habit, even worse at night).

“How are you?” I ask in hopes that he’ll share some light to all this. Him missing me just makes things complicated in my head. No one’s ever missed me apart from Irene but only if it’s been weeks. We’ve only been apart since last Thursday. I wonder what exactly he misses? It could be what most men crave? I dare not to say the word. But it wouldn’t be the first.

“I’m doing fine. My days are pretty much the same and boring,” he says and takes a sip of his black coffee. With his eyes bore into me, he adds “I miss your carefree spirit.”

And in my mind ‘carefree’ translates to sex. My mind immediately travels back to our night together. But the thought is quickly demolished by the images of us caught off guard by Camilla’s sudden visit the morning after. I haven’t ask about her but perhaps I shouldn’t.

“Maybe…” he stares down at his coffee cup, preoccupied by his thought. I wait for him to continue. On the other side the girls are now in selfie mode. Each with their own unique pout, ready for the winning shot. I admit, I find it amusing as I watch their photo session on display.

“Want to come over Friday night?” he asks. I bet it’s obvious on my face that I didn’t prepare myself.

It’s fair to say, answering ‘yes’ will no doubt provide more questions than answers. I realize he waits for an answer but my mixed feelings are proving to be demanding to handle. Common sense screams ‘no’. My impulse seems to be tamed by fear.

I contemplate of a way out to escape before I’m forced to react on emotions. Sex is easy, it’s what comes afterwards that’s torture. I remember Mrs.Hansen back in high school who once told me to stick to what I know. She quickly added that she didn’t quiet know what that was but math was not it.

Over the years I discovered my ability to run from my issues and pretend as if nothing had happened. It’s usually a safe bet. Today, is no different. 

“I’m sorry…” it’s all I manage to say before I walk away.

“Mia…”

I don’t look back as he says my name. I can hear the confusion, once again in his voice. Maybe this time he’ll stop chasing.

***

Happy Friday!

-A.B.-