Storms 01 - Family Storms

outside. Nothing bad could happen, and you could slip softly into a comfortable sleep, unafraid of the darkness it necessarily had to bring along with it. There was always the promise of tomorrow.
    Now there was no promise of tomorrow, and the cold, hard world had found its way to come back at me. There was no escape, no safety, and the darkness that came with sleep now was terrifying, not because it brought old ghosts and nightmares but because it made me blind and afraid to take another step forward, to have another thought, to dare to make another wish.
    On Friday, Kiera broke her vow of silence when it came to me and approached me in the cafeteria, but it wasn’t to express any regret or remorse. She didn’t sit at my table. She stood across from me, keeping her distance as if she were afraid I might attack her.
    “I see you’re still having trouble making new friends,” she began, nodding at the empty chairs.
    “I’m not looking for new friends yet, but when I do, I’ll be more careful about choosing them,” I replied.
    “You don’t have to be careful about it or worry about it. I doubt you’ll be here that much longer, anyway.”
    “Wherever I go can’t be worse,” I said, and she laughed.
    “Ricky’s having a party tonight at his house. His parents are beginning a short Mexican Riviera vacation. We’d invite you just for entertainment, but everyone’s afraid you might steal away another boyfriend.”
    I was silent. I felt my insides trembling, but I wasn’t going to cry or even look sad and frightened. Instead, I said, “I feel sorry for you.”
    “You feel sorry for me? That’s a laugh. When you end up in some foster home, sleeping in a two-by-four bedroom and going to some inferior public school, think of me. I’m going to think of you tonight. You can call it a celebration of sorts.”
    “You’re good at what you do, Kiera, I won’t deny it, but with all your money and your things, your cars and trips, you really don’t have much more than I do. You’re lonelier than I am, in fact.”
    “You’re crazy,” she said, but my firmness threw her. I could see her losing some of her confidence and arrogance.
    “You had me believing that you really did have a good relationship with your sister, but I know now you couldn’t possibly have had that. I imagine there were times when you wished bad things would happen to her, and when they did, you hated yourself. You know what?” I added, scooping up some fruit with my fork. “I think you still do.”
    For the first time, I saw blood rush into her cheeks and her eyes blaze. She was also speechless. There was so much anger in her eyes. I looked away, and she walked off, but I caught her looking at me every once in a while. There was no question in my mind that she was wishing she could do more harm to me. I had cut deeply past her hard steelsurface and touched that place where all of her fears and regrets slept, waiting for something or someone to nudge them awake. Maybe now she would have bad dreams and fear the darkness, too, I thought.
    Ironically, it didn’t make me feel better to be able to hurt her, even after all she had done. I knew that for most people, that would be a weakness. How could I survive in a world where people were so cruel to one another if I didn’t enjoy revenge?
    I think the trouble was that I had grown too close to Alena. Dead and gone, she still had a presence in that suite, not only for Mrs. March but, after a while, also for me, wearing her clothes, using her things, and seeing her pictures, her face constantly in mine. I couldn’t help but lie awake nights and think of her there, wondering what her thoughts were like when she realized how sick she was. Did she cry? Was she angry? Was she simply afraid all the time? From the way Mr. and Mrs. March had described her, none of that seemed to be true. I knew that all parents saw their children as angels when they were so young and innocent, but maybe Alena really was angelic. Maybe she had been helping me find my way. Maybe, even now, she felt sorry for her sister and wished that somehow, some way, I could have changed her the way she had pretended to change.
    Forgive me, Alena, both for failing and for wishing harm to Kiera,
I thought, and I continued to the end of my school day.
    Neither Mr. nor Mrs. March was home when I returned. I went directly up to my room. The hallway looked darker than ever, and the room was cold and lonely. I felt like one of those