Vivid Read Online Free Page B

again and sighed with relief. Almost two months of mapping out the house I grew up in and it still took me forever to find something. Mom tried to help me remember the layout. She even placed rough stickers on the walls throughout, signaling me when it was time to turn the chair. There were changes all over the place to help accommodate my situation. It was more than I could ask for, but it was still difficult to adapt to. Once my other arm was working, it would be easier.
    Fuck that. It would never be easier because I still couldn't see!
    "Stop whining, you asshole," I whispered harshly and took a few deep breaths to calm myself.
    There is a reason for my survival. God does not give these trials to those that cannot endure them.
    I repeated the words my post trauma therapist had given me, but didn't feel them no matter how hard I tried. Still, I kept at it because I wasn't a quitter.
    I had been given a chance to pull myself together. The same people that paid for Mom and Dad to travel to Germany to see me were the ones that provided the counseling that would supposedly help me cope. I was grateful for the help, but doubtful of the success.
    I sat by the window for a few minutes longer, listening for the sound of someone moving in that room. Had these two houses always been so close together? I couldn't remember the exact distance, and I could never remember hearing much of anything back in the day. Now, it was as if everything was happening in my room when I heard the rattle of a doorknob.
    My muscles tightened, sending an immediate pain through my leg and arm. Was that her? What the hell was her name?
    "Are you sure it's okay, Mom?"
    "Grace, you need a car. I'll get a ride with Karla in the morning. It'll be fine."
    Grace.
    Grace Samuelson.
    I remembered her, but only because we'd been neighbors since the third grade. I couldn't remember her face, though. Was she the blonde that always followed me around the cafeteria junior year? No, that was the chick who ended up dating my friend, Kyle Gale, later that year.
    What about the red head who was in my chemistry class and whose shirts were always too tight? No, that was the chick who ended up pregnant for graduation.
    I could only remember the name.
    Grace.
    I lived next to her for years and couldn't see her face in my mind.
    I was an asshole of the highest order for treating my mom the way I did, but this one took the cake. What kind of dick did a guy have to be to not know what the neighbor girl looked like? Did I ever even talk to her?
    I couldn't remember if I had.
    Wait! I did remember helping to fix her car once. It had saved me from running into Shannon Connors that first day of senior year. Shannon always waited for me in the morning, and being late that day saved me a few more days of her not knowing where my locker was. The girl could be annoying as hell, but she had a body that most of the guys in school drooled over. Sleeping with her was still one of my biggest mistakes.
    "Thanks, Mom. I'll see you in the morning then. Goodnight."
    The sound of her door closing was the last thing I heard for what could have been more than five minutes. She was just standing there. I would hear if she moved, wouldn't I?
    Grace sighed and that's when I heard her footsteps shuffle across the room, then the sound of a zipper. Was she undressing? No, the zipper sounded larger than one would on clothing. Was it a backpack or a suitcase?
    A few more moments of silence. Then she spoke. "I'm sorry about the song. I won't sing it again."
    She knew I was there, but I couldn't bring myself to move. She couldn't see me, could she? Hell, I could have opened the blinds too far and not realized it. Should I continue to stay still? Pretend I'm not there, just breathing and listening. What would I say anyway?
    "I'm glad you're safe now, Merrick."
    Those were the last words she spoke before I heard the sound of her window sliding shut.
    "I'm not," I replied, quietly.
    Because I wasn't. I wasn't glad