Change
For Roxanne Spaulding the last three months had gone from bad, to shit, to absolute bollocks. She had almost been arrested, had a huge fight with her mother, gotten into an abusive relationship with an asshole she had thought she had rid herself of, and now she was going insane.
Or at least that's what her so called therapist wanted her to believe, Roxy was still having a hard time believing that this so called 'Dr.Jenson' was looking out for her best interests. She didn't trust him, not for any real concrete reason, but he just felt....wrong.
Just like her dreams did these days.
The nights where she didn't wake up, drenched in sweat and unable to breathe, were few and far between. Her mother had become distant and Roxy felt so alone that sometimes, after waking up in a panic, she often thought about killing herself. At least then this would all stop, she would have peace.
But she couldn't.
It just wasn't in her nature to give up like that, no matter how many times she had been kicked and beat down in her life Roxy had always fought back. In school, when older girls had picked on her she had fought back. Biting, scratching, spitting, even using burning cigarettes. Roxy was a scrappy little thing, and even though she felt more alone that she ever had in her life she was determined to fight against these dark thoughts.
The first step had been to stop taking the pills 'Dr.Jenson' had prescribed to her, just two tiny blue pills a day, and yet every time she had taken them she had felt sick to her stomach. And her head....it had felt like something was trying to split it open.
The next step was to stop wallowing in self pity and actually open her eyes to the world around her, once she had done that she had begun to notice a few things that were out of place. Things that didn't sit right.
Like her dreams.
Like her therapist.
Like her whole life.
On a whim she had gone up into the attic and tried to drag out baby pictures of herself, it was a strange thing to do since she had never been interested in seing herself as a baby before but suddenly she needed to see. Needed to see what she was like before all this shit had bogged her life down. But when she had gone up into the attic and dug around she couldn't find any. She checked her mothers room, the living room, even the garage.
There were none.
In fact, the harder and closer she looked the more Roxy began to notice that her and her mother didn't look anything a like. She had always assumed she had taken after her missing father but....
It just didn't sit right.
"Either I'm going insane or something is up." Roxy muttered to herself, smoking billowing out from between her lips as she sat up in her room. Smoking and thinking furiously, her stomach a knot of nerves and raw emotion.
Nothing sat right anymore.
She heard the downstairs door open and slam shut, signaling the return of her mother. Roxy sighed and stubbed the cigarette out, listening to the approaching footsteps coming up the stairs. Her mother was probably on her way up to yell at her again, for forgetting the garbage or for stinking up the house with her smoking.
But it didn't sit right.
"But......" Roxy muttered to herself and stopped, listening hard to the footsteps that were coming closer to her bedroom door. They were a heavy tread, not the usual soft whispering of her mothers fuzzy white slippered feet. These ones sounded bulkier, harder.....like boots.
She had only a milisecond to move, ducking out of the way as the door was kicked in and a figure clad all in black leather barreled in. A semi-automatic weapon aimed exactly at where she should have been sitting.
"Where-" She heard the figure say and then he was being shot, his body jerking violently as someone shot him from behind.
Roxy screamed as the body slumped forward in her doorway, her eyes huge and wild. A moment later her mother strode into veiw, wearing something very similiar to the man she had just killed. Except she was wearing her slippers.
"Asshole." She spat, "Got mud all over my carpet."
"Mom?! What the hell?"
Her mother turned to her and shook her head, "No Roxy. You know it's not true now, which is both good and bad. Good for you, bad for them."
"Mom I don't understand....." Roxy started to take a step towards her but her mother held up a pistol, shaking her head furiously.
"No more Roxy, you've managed to figure it out this far. Now you need to finish it." She looked at her daughter and managed a small smile. "I know you can, you were always a clever girl."
A million questions began to form on her tongue but then there was an awful sound from downstairs, the sound of windows being blown in and dozens of men rushing the house. Her mother looked over her shoulder and gave her that small smile again.
"Run now child. You were never mine, but you are your own. Run, and don't look back."
Roxy ran.
Or at least that's what her so called therapist wanted her to believe, Roxy was still having a hard time believing that this so called 'Dr.Jenson' was looking out for her best interests. She didn't trust him, not for any real concrete reason, but he just felt....wrong.
Just like her dreams did these days.
The nights where she didn't wake up, drenched in sweat and unable to breathe, were few and far between. Her mother had become distant and Roxy felt so alone that sometimes, after waking up in a panic, she often thought about killing herself. At least then this would all stop, she would have peace.
But she couldn't.
It just wasn't in her nature to give up like that, no matter how many times she had been kicked and beat down in her life Roxy had always fought back. In school, when older girls had picked on her she had fought back. Biting, scratching, spitting, even using burning cigarettes. Roxy was a scrappy little thing, and even though she felt more alone that she ever had in her life she was determined to fight against these dark thoughts.
The first step had been to stop taking the pills 'Dr.Jenson' had prescribed to her, just two tiny blue pills a day, and yet every time she had taken them she had felt sick to her stomach. And her head....it had felt like something was trying to split it open.
The next step was to stop wallowing in self pity and actually open her eyes to the world around her, once she had done that she had begun to notice a few things that were out of place. Things that didn't sit right.
Like her dreams.
Like her therapist.
Like her whole life.
On a whim she had gone up into the attic and tried to drag out baby pictures of herself, it was a strange thing to do since she had never been interested in seing herself as a baby before but suddenly she needed to see. Needed to see what she was like before all this shit had bogged her life down. But when she had gone up into the attic and dug around she couldn't find any. She checked her mothers room, the living room, even the garage.
There were none.
In fact, the harder and closer she looked the more Roxy began to notice that her and her mother didn't look anything a like. She had always assumed she had taken after her missing father but....
It just didn't sit right.
"Either I'm going insane or something is up." Roxy muttered to herself, smoking billowing out from between her lips as she sat up in her room. Smoking and thinking furiously, her stomach a knot of nerves and raw emotion.
Nothing sat right anymore.
She heard the downstairs door open and slam shut, signaling the return of her mother. Roxy sighed and stubbed the cigarette out, listening to the approaching footsteps coming up the stairs. Her mother was probably on her way up to yell at her again, for forgetting the garbage or for stinking up the house with her smoking.
But it didn't sit right.
"But......" Roxy muttered to herself and stopped, listening hard to the footsteps that were coming closer to her bedroom door. They were a heavy tread, not the usual soft whispering of her mothers fuzzy white slippered feet. These ones sounded bulkier, harder.....like boots.
She had only a milisecond to move, ducking out of the way as the door was kicked in and a figure clad all in black leather barreled in. A semi-automatic weapon aimed exactly at where she should have been sitting.
"Where-" She heard the figure say and then he was being shot, his body jerking violently as someone shot him from behind.
Roxy screamed as the body slumped forward in her doorway, her eyes huge and wild. A moment later her mother strode into veiw, wearing something very similiar to the man she had just killed. Except she was wearing her slippers.
"Asshole." She spat, "Got mud all over my carpet."
"Mom?! What the hell?"
Her mother turned to her and shook her head, "No Roxy. You know it's not true now, which is both good and bad. Good for you, bad for them."
"Mom I don't understand....." Roxy started to take a step towards her but her mother held up a pistol, shaking her head furiously.
"No more Roxy, you've managed to figure it out this far. Now you need to finish it." She looked at her daughter and managed a small smile. "I know you can, you were always a clever girl."
A million questions began to form on her tongue but then there was an awful sound from downstairs, the sound of windows being blown in and dozens of men rushing the house. Her mother looked over her shoulder and gave her that small smile again.
"Run now child. You were never mine, but you are your own. Run, and don't look back."
Roxy ran.