A Brand New Ending

Chapter 49

Phoenix



I take another look in the mirror, not recognizing the girl looking back at me. My face is bright, the once-dark circles that haunted underneath my eyes are gone. The cuts and bruises on my inner arms have healed, leaving only faint scars left in their spot. Picking up my brush I run it through my tangled hair, pulling it into a high ponytail on top my head. Grabbing the small makeup bag from my dresser I dump out the contents of it, looking at each piece with a wary eye. I haven't had much experience with makeup. I was too young to wear it when my father was still alive and my mom would never spend money on something so frivolous, as she would put it. I shake my head slightly, trying to shake her from my memory. I take time trying on the different things, reading the small instructions on each to get a sense of their intended use.

"F*ck." My eyes are watering like a son of a bitch as I pick up some metal thing that looks like a medieval torture device. "There is no way this thing is going anywhere near my eyelashes," I say, tossing it straight into the garbage.

Glancing backwards in the mirror I realize I am getting short on time. Leaning back, I grab my sweater off the bed and head downstairs.

~

The ride to the hospital is silent, my nerves have taken over. I don't know if it's going back to this place, or the idea of the unknown, but my stomach has been doing back flips since I left the house. Neil parks the car and comes over to my side, opening the door for me.

"Thank you," I say softly as I exit, fixing the skirt of my dress.

As we make it through the employee entrance, the overwhelmingly familiar medicinal smell of hit my nostrils. I'm instantly nauseous. I try to block every memory of this place from my mind, but all the feelings come flooding back. Neil turns around and notices my distressed state.

"Are you OK?" he asks stopping suddenly.

I can do this. I nod quickly.

"There is no reason to be nervous, Phoenix," he says as though he can feel my fear. Braeden always said he was good at reading people.

We make it through a series of hallways and I become lost, not knowing what's up or down. We make it to the nurses' station and I instantly spot her, my lips turning up in a smile!

"Phoenix!" she shouts as she rounds the counter top, her long arms wrapping around me in seconds.

She squeezes so tightly I fear I have re-broken a rib.

"I am so excited that you're here." She smiles as she pulls away.

Her eyes look at me up and down, the fire burning in my cheeks.

"You look smoking hot in the get-up, might I add."

"Thanks," I whisper, suddenly hating all the attention on me.

I hear a throat clear behind me.

"I'll be back around five to take you home," he says, now in doctor mode

~

The next few hours are a blur, a series of instructions that become a jumbled mess in my brain. I am happy to be trusted with things less life threatening. I followed closely behind the other volunteers, watching how they interact with the patients. Once we finish visiting all the rooms, I am told we get a break. I am more than ready for some air. Leaving the nurses area, I head toward what I think is the exit, but it only takes me a matter of seconds to get turned around in the labyrinth of corridors that all look the same. I've always had a horrible sense of direction.

I aimlessly walk around the hallways, figuring I'll make it back somehow. But something tells me to look right, my eyes finding a semi-dark room, sunshine from partially-closed blinds illuminating it softly. I stop at the corner of the door frame and peer inside, feeling like a total stalker. In front of the window is a petite fragile frame sitting in a chair, the profile of her face bruised. My mind screams for my feet to move forward, but I can't move. I am frozen. I watch this little girl move around in her seat, a wince coming across her face with every movement. I know that there are a million things that can explain her injuries. Maybe she had an accident. Maybe she tripped and fell.

But I know. She didn't cause this herself. Her head turns in my direction, my presence is no longer invisible. Realizing I'm invading her moment of privacy, my feet finally move me away from her room. After a few more twists and turns I find myself back at the nurses' station, ready for the rest of the day.

~

By the time Dr. Harris and I pull into the driveway, the sun has already set for the day. When I notice that he doesn't pull the car all the way into the garage I look toward him.

"I have something else I have to take care of," he explains, his eyes not looking straight at me.

Since it's none of my business I just nod before exiting the car. I stop when I hear him call my name out again.

"I might be home late, so I want you to set the alarm," he explains. "Do you remember how to do that?"

"Yes."

I swallow the lump in my throat, my nerves getting the best of me.

"You are perfectly safe here," he assures me. "He'll never be free."

My heart skips a beat, an image of Carl behind bars flashes across my vision. He nods and I shut the door, watching the light from his headlights disappear from my sight. Grabbing the spare key that Braeden showed me on my first day, I slide it into the key hole, pushing the front door open. I quickly get inside and lock the deadbolt. Punching in the code, I see the light switch over to green. I let out a deep breath that I didn't realize I was holding in. Dropping my bag on the floor, I scan the room, everything quiet and peaceful. My eyes find themselves peering out into the backyard, the shed illuminated by the backyard lights.

A small part of me wonders why they keep it. Why burden themselves with that memory every day? I yawn loudly, realizing how beat I am. Heading up the stairs slowly, I reach the door of my bedroom but the door is closed. Not how I left it. Taped to the front of it is a piece of paper, with Braeden's handwriting. Reaching up I peel it off, unfolding the paper.



I felt like your walls could use something special.



I look at the paper, confused, and shake my head, knowing he is up to something. Pushing open the door I instantly see what he did. On the floor of my room is a massive stack of art supplies, tears blurring my vision. Typical tears of joy. Drawing was something I always loved to do. My father encouraged the artistic vision I always had when I was younger. We used to have drawing contests on napkins whenever we went out to eat but, like everything else in my life, when he was gone, so was any encouragement of my creativity. Kneeling down I run my fingers across all the paint cans, picking up the brushes, feeling the soft bristles underneath my fingertips. Putting my fingertips to my mouth I effectively hide my smile, shaking my head slowly. On top of the pile is another piece of paper. Reaching over I grab it, opening it slowly.



I can't wait to hold you in my arms again.

I love you Seraph.



Clutching the piece of paper against my chest I can feel my heart soaring. I thought only men like him existed in fairy tales. I often wonder what I did to deserve him. Getting up from the floor, I walk over to my nightstand, sliding the note into the drawer. Walking over to my closet, I slide off my dress and find my favorite pair of yoga pants and an over-sized t-shirt that I stole from Braeden. Sliding myself on top of the bed I feel my eyes becoming heavy, sleep overtakes me quickly.

~

I snap my eyes open and turn over to glance at the clock. It's incredibly early in the morning, the sun not due to rise for hours. Pushing the covers off of me, I slide on my robe because the house is frigid. I head into the kitchen, grab the water kettle and fill it with water from the faucet. Clicking on the burner, I watch the blue-and-orange flame crawl up the sides of the kettle, the warmth flowing to my face. While I wait for the whistle, I look around the kitchen some more and start looking for a spoon but instead I find a stack of dusty pictures. I pull them out and my heart instantly aches at the sight of them. They are all various stages in the family's life. Some of when Braeden and Thomas were babies, all the way up to what seems like less than a year before the accident. In each one of them everyone is smiling or laughing. Everything about them is perfect.

I hear the whistle of the kettle, so I slide the pictures back to where I found them and head back over to the stove, pouring the hot water into the already-dispensed cocoa mix. Stirring it with the spoon, I pick it up, smiling at the turtles staring back at me. When I make is back upstairs, I take a sip of hot chocolate and stop, finding myself staring at the large, blank wall to the left of my bed.

Setting my mug down on the dresser I bend over, gathering multiple brushes and paints in my hands and set them on the ground next me. Looking back up at the wall I smile wide, only one thing coming to mind.

I work until the soft lights of the morning sun creep through the window, both my body and mind exhausted. After a few more soft strokes of the wings I step back, even amazed at myself at what is looking back at me. Setting the brush back down in the paint can I stare at myself in the mirror and smile, seeing that I am speckled in paint from head to toe. Stripping down, I climb back into bed hoping to get a few more hours of sleep before my day begins.