Prologue
I don’t belong here and I never will. This is the motto I repeat over and over in my mind as I sit and watch the horror film that is my life unfolding around me.
I think I am going to puke.
Sitting at the kitchen table in my parent's home, I am silently judging the assholes that my parents call friends. Well, I guess that’s not fair. My parents are assholes, too.
Everyone is outside surrounding my dad at the grill as he tells another stupid joke and my mom is rushing around as people gush at how wonderful her desserts taste. As I watch my boyfriend of two years, Allan, laugh at my dad’s jokes as though they were hilarious, I can’t help but let out a groan. When he takes a bite of my mom’s famous lemon pie and compliments her, I almost come undone. If they only knew she had purchased all of those delectable treats at the local bakery and then threw them into her own cooking pans, they wouldn't be so impressed.
And, while everyone is outside enjoying the beautiful summer evening, I am stuck inside making sure drinks stay full and dishes get loaded into the dishwasher. As the shame of the family, I am forced to stay inside and not humiliate my parents.
“Elizabeth, dear, could you pour some more wine into my glass?” Ms. Donaldson asks, as she slightly sways to the left.
This is probably her seventh trip to have me give her more wine, but I am sure she doesn’t know that.
“Sure,” I smiled, as I top off her glass.
Smiling at me, Ms. Donaldson watches her husband as he adds another stack of BBQ ribs to his plate. Sighing, she turns back to me. “Elizabeth, now that you have graduated from high school, what are your plans for college?” she asks, as she takes a rather large gulp of her wine.
Pausing, I wasn’t sure how to respond. What I wanted to do was attend an amazing graphic design college in Las Vegas. A place far away from my southern Kentucky home. Instead, my parents forced me to apply to a business school at one of the local colleges that they had both attended. I hated business. It wasn’t me, but they didn’t care about that. I wasn’t allowed to have an opinion in their eyes. Not even with my love life, or lack-there-of. They hadn’t even trusted me to make my own decisions on who was right for me. They had set me up on a blind date with Allan when I was a junior in high school. My dad and Allan’s dad worked at the same large and prestigious mortgage company. It never mattered whether I liked him or not. In their eyes, being with Allan made me a little more tolerable. Because to them, I was Elizabeth. The daughter who shouldn’t be here.
Walking into the kitchen, my mom cleared her throat as she narrowed her eyes at me. “There you are Susan,” my mom said, in a cheery tone as she addressed Ms. Donaldson.
“Yes, I was just asking Elizabeth what her plans are for college. She has grown up so fast, I just can’t believe she will be an adult soon,” Susan replied.
Jumping in, my mom didn’t offer me a chance to talk. “Elizabeth will attend Buckley Business School. We are very proud of her,” my mom lied, as she provided a fake smile that made my dinner climb its way back up my throat.
Nodding her head, Susan smiled at me. “That’s wonderful,” she said, before my mom led her back out to the backyard patio. The yard was full of lit Tiki Torches and candles. I was sure it was a fire hazard, but there was no sense in telling my parents. They wouldn’t listen to me anyway.
As the party came to an end, all of the guests began to leave. Walking out the door, Allan spun around and placed a sweet kiss on my lips. I almost cringed from his touch. Not because there was anything wrong with Allan, but because I didn’t love him.
“Good night, Elizabeth. I will see you later,” Allan said, as he hugged me before walking to his BMW.
“Night,” I replied, as I faked a smile for his enjoyment.
Sighing, I stood in the doorway much longer than I should have. If only I could just disappear. If only.
****
The strong aroma of smoke woke me from my deep sleep. It was past midnight and as I lay there, sweating and burning from the heavy heat floating throughout the room, I woke with a blood-curdling scream.
As I struggle to see past my own hands, I scream out for help.
“Mom. Dad. Where are you?” I cry, as I fall to the floor and search for the door.
I have to get out of here I think as my mind becomes foggy from the smoke. Of course, this is how my eighteenth birthday would go. All of my life my parents had either forgotten about or refused to acknowledge my birthday. As the only surviving twin from their first and only pregnancy, I had been blamed for the death of my twin brother who died during childbirth. Somehow, it was my fault that he died instead of me. They had wanted a boy- something they reminded me of daily. I wasn’t sure how it was my fault, but it was. Everything was my fault.
I was confused as I used my hands to feel around the door frame. I had only graduated from high school a week ago and today was my birthday. Instead of throwing me a party, my parents invited their friends over for a cookout. An event I wasn’t invited to attend.
Now, as the heavy smoke began to strangle me, I realized this was how it would all end for me. I wasn’t meant to be here. It was me who should have died eighteen years ago.
Suddenly, my hand bumped into the wall and as I slid my fingers up, I felt the warm glass from my window. Hope washed through me as I realized maybe I had been wrong. Maybe I could get out and survive this.
Placing my hands on the scorching hot windowsill, I used the only strength I had left to pull myself up. Even as the searing hot glass burned my skin, I refused to give up my fight. I could see the stars shining down on me as I prayed for just another minute of air so I could escape this blaze.
Lifting the glass, I was blasted with the cool night air. Coughing again, I held my breath as I lifted myself out of the window. As my body fell out of the window and onto the damp grass below, I finally allowed myself to cry. I had been too scared and confused earlier to really let my emotions prevail. Now that I was safe, I felt like I could feel again.
Laying on the ground, I could hear the faint sounds of sirens in the distance. They were coming this way. I was sure a neighbor had called the fire station when they first saw flames. Glancing up at my house now, I saw only orange and red flames dancing around the structure. No longer did I see the white brick, ranch-style home that my parents adored and possibly loved more than me.