Devils Roses 01 - Cursed

was so sexy and sweet. He didn’t belong with my sister; she didn’t like him for the right reasons. She liked that he was popular and his life was filled with drama. She thrived on drama.
    Gahh, I had to stop thinking about him.
    I avoided my mom's spot and took the bus home. I didn’t want her to see me crushing on my sister's boyfriend, even though my mom would have understood. She knew I had loved him since I had been old enough to understand boys and girls were a different species altogether.
    When I got home my dad was in his office, closed up tight. He had become a hermit. I wasn’t certain how vacation and bereavement leave worked in the real world, but I assumed eight months of not even trying to show up to work was bad. I grabbed a yogurt and went to my room to study.
    I fell asleep instead of studying.
    The dream was the same every time. Fog covered my eyes, but I could hear the people around me panicking. I put my hands out, trying to reach out to them. No one took my hand. When the fog cleared I saw faces of people I didn’t know. They were calling for me. They were crying out. Disaster had struck the city I was in, and I had a terrible feeling it was my fault. I heard someone calling and looked up to the sky full of debris. His face was there. I cried out to him and tried to get him to take my hand. He pulled away from me, horrified for some reason. I shouted his name repeatedly, but he wouldn’t look at me.
    “ Wake up, Aimee." I knew the soft voice. It was my mom who whispered to me.
    I woke startled, feeling my own embrace and the beads of sweat that soaked me.
    I had fallen asleep in my clothes again. I sat up for a moment and pulled my sweater off, the night’s cool air brushed against me.
    I looked around dazed, expecting to see someone. I had been certain, voices had woken me. Perhaps, it had been my mom trying to talk to me. I rolled on my back, as I slipped off my jeans and pulled the blankets around me. The enveloping darkness was a warm comfort inside my bed.
    I fell back to sleep and dreamt of him again. In the new dream I floated, staring at him with my parents and my sister. I was unable to float down to touch the ground or move at all. I floated in limbo, watching them.
    The breakfast table the next morning felt grim, as I contemplated my dreams. As usual, I remembered very little. I didn’t have garden-variety teenage girl dreams anymore. Nothing about my life in eight months had been garden variety.
    Tragedy had struck.
    I felt myself get lost for an eternity within a second. I fought with myself, as I remembered our family's worst moment.
    My mom had died.
    The day she died, I had walked home from school the long way. I felt a warm wind hit me. It was a cool day. I looked around at the swaying trees and branches. A brief thought about it being the Santa Ana winds from California coming up the coast, filled my mind. I shivered at exactly the same moment my cell phone rang.
    Everything slowed.
    I pulled out my phone and answered.
    My sister screamed into the phone.
    My legs ceased to exist.
    I crumpled on the side of the road.
    My soul literally made an attempt at leaving me.
    My chest felt as though it ripped into a million tiny shards.
    I had actual physical pain paralyzing me. For the first time in my life, I felt my heart's exact location. Her death took my breath and my sanity, simultaneously. I sat on the cold concrete, and rocked back and forth, in an attempt to block myself from the truth.
    I knew hope was taken from my world. At that moment, I didn’t know just how large of a piece it was.
    I didn’t know if I would ever recover.
    I convinced myself I would be fine, as long as I didn’t leave that spot on the road. The spot where I'd felt the warm wind. No doubt, it had been my mom brushing against me. It was her one last time to tell me how much I was loved. Of this, I was certain.
    My father found me on the side of the road. He left the truck running in the middle of the street and he ran to my side. He sat there with me, wrapped around me.
    He had searched for me for hours. When he finally found me, I was devoid of every feeling. I knew if I acknowledged one pain, I would have to face the others.
    I knew my father was touching me. I refused to feel him, as he cried on my shoulder. He shook my body with his sobs. He tried to get me to stand, but I rejected his attempts.
    I knew nothing was special about that place on the side of the road, on the way home. If I left