Dark

Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space,or so they say.

Space

Dark ,cold , empty, beautiful in thought, terrifying in reality.

Looking back now I should of never came

Power: the capacity or ability to direct or influence the behavior of others or the course of events.

Everyone has it in one way or another; some just don’t know it, some have if before they truly understand it

And some steal the shine from hidden diamonds to polish their gilded gold that gleams on the surface.

My Mother taught me you have the power to make your own path in life. No matter what’s thrown at you, it’s up to you to mold them into tools for your survival.

One of the only lessons I took from her before she was taken from me.

07-20-2010

They said it was an accident, a wrong place , wrong time situation .

She was in the lab with dad today doing a last minute check for a project they were overseeing together. Thankfully Dad was fine, not a scratch or bruise to be seen.

Weirdly enough he wasn’t even there when I happened. Apparently he was in a separate lab helping a colleague with an issue.

I sat in shock in the principal’s office trembling arms barely able to hold the phone to my ear, my father’s assistant on the other end. I couldn't no, I wouldn’t believe it. None of it made sense, it was all too vague.

“What happened exactly” my rough voice throws out for the fifth time. “Just know that your father is fine but won’t be able to come and get you due to some issues still going on here in the lab”.

She won’t answer my questions. She never does it’s like talking to a voice recording never straying from the script.

Tears burn, threatening to jump at a moment's notice and I don’t have the will to hold them back.

“What is so important that he cant come see me? I need him right now! How can he not come and get me? My mom just died! Does he not care at all?!” I yell into the line as I try to wrangle air into my lungs.

All I hear is a put out sigh like I was just another inconvenience just a bug buzzing to loud.

“He will be home later in the evening just go home as you usually do. I know your capable of at least that” and the phone goes dead.

Too young to be told what took my mothers life but old enough to be sent adrift alone with no explanation.

So I did as I always do, got up, wiped my eyes and pushed it all down. What was the use if nobody else cares anyways.

~~

09-27-2016

I learned early that standing out was like putting a target on your back.

Attention felt like a sickness. The fatigue from eyes weighting you down, words sticking to your lungs like mucous,every breath harder than the next.

And if attention was a sickness decisions felt like a wound that never quite healed. Life is easier when you just go with the flow, less pain when you realize it never mattered in the first place.

Flashbacks to my childhood instilled the notions that decisions hurt. Either yourself or someone else. Life isn’t fair.

Never has been.

So I learned to hide not to be seen and got so good at it that I haven’t seen my father in over 6 ½ years. Not that it was all my effort in the end.

When he was around it hurt. It hurt knowing I’d never be seen for who I am, just a continuation of my mothers legacy. A reminder… that I’m all that’s left. A waste of space and potential.

After the death of my mother, my father wasn’t the same. His stern rigid mask turned to stone devoid of any emotions, a shell of the man I once knew.

Aldridge Blakeman, my father has always been a highly respected and renowned scientist. Even in my farthest memories he was never around, often head first in whatever project held his interest.

Saying it was for the “betterment of humanity”. But never giving any information more than necessary.

The last 6 years he’s been on a space station of some sort doing research that will “help humanity advance beyond what we knew was possible”.

Snippets of news broadcasts are the only thing keeping me in contact with the elusive figure. Contact between us died out before the dust could even settle on my mother’s casket.

Of course not completely alone there has always been staff who keep up the house and my fathers assistant Renoa who occasionally makes her rounds to keep up the good appearance for the public and to make sure I was “still kicking” as she puts it.

I wake up to the sun in my eyes and my mom's gentle voice still rings in my ear as I escape the sweet dream I was having. A shrill alarm goes off helping to ground me back into reality.

I force myself up and lean over to silence my alarm. But the ringing doesn’t stop, I look around trying to make sense of the noise. I get up and try to follow the sound.

I try to make up excuses as to what could be the cause. Hopefully a staff member just left their phone somewhere and is calling to find it… hopefully.

I creep out of my door and head slowly make my way down the long hallway. I pass room after room the ringing getting louder with every gentle step.

As I pass my fathers old study the now roaring ring stops. I sit in silence wondering what in the hell is going on?

Bouncing on my toes I rally up courage to open the door. Anticlimacticly the door slams open but that’s all the excitement that happens.

The room is dark and smells stuffy, nobody comes in here. Skipped over by the staff for years, Dad never liked anyone in his study, especially me.

I walk in and flick on the light switch on the wall to my left. It’s creepy in here . I never liked this room. I swear I would hear noises here late at night long after everyone had gone to bed.

Looking around the room was nothing special. Rows and rows of books held by tall bookcases. A large dark wood desk wedged in the corner facing the rest of the room. On it sat a computer, scatterd papers and a private landline that wasn’t connected to the house phone.

I’ve never heard it ring… until now.

The now deafening ring shrills through my skull, a headache threatens to take its place.

I pick up the phone if only to stop the constant ring. Hesitantly I bring it to my ear and let out a soft “ hello”

“My baby” a soft voice whispers. I drop the phone as my heart beats out my chest. I recognize that voice.

Shaking hands fumble with the phone for a minute. Gaining a grip I lift it back to my ear.

“Who is this?” I ask. No answer just silence and after a few minutes I start wondering if I’m finally losing it.

Depressed, desperate, and alone is my mind playing tricks on me?

Then again I hear “my baby” then a dial tone as if the phone was cut off.

Sure of it this time I threw the phone down, overwhelmed and scared out of my mind. I backed out of the room and ran out into the hall back to my room.

Grabbing my phone I dial one of the only number I know by heart and pray it still works.

The line clicks and there is nothing then a gruff “Who is calling me on this line? I said I didn’t want to be disturbed for the rest of the day. I'm busy until take off is scheduled”.

I choke on a nervous laugh. It's been so long but why did I expect anything different?

“Dad? It’s me Nala. I heard the phone in your study ringing and it sounded like mom on the phone. I don’t know if I’m going crazy but I’m scared and don’t don’t know what to do!” I rush out hoping he won’t just end the call thinking I’m just looking for attention… again.

“Nala? Wait! wait! why were you in my study?” He ask sounding tired. “ That’s what your worried about?” Baffled he would gloss over the other part of the rushed out sentence.

“ I just said I heard mom on the phone and you're worried about me being in your study?! I yell not quite knowing how to feel.

“Ok look I don’t have time for this right now come to my office at the lab. We can speak more when you're here. Renoa will meet you in the lobby.” And with that the phone call ends.

6 ½ years and nothing has changed. He still makes me feel like a small annoying bug buzzing around too close.

Shaking my head I hop off my bed and make my way to the closet grabbing the first things my hand touches. A short sleeve grey v neck and red distressed skinny Jean seem to be the outfit of the day.

I hurriedly make my way in to the bathroom to try and make sense of my bead head. Curls tangle together create the illusion of a lion's mane standing proud for all to see. I should really sleep with a scarf more often less of a fight in the morning.

Thankfully my hair works with me today as I slick it into a practical bun. With hair and clothes out the way I grab my shoes and head down stairs.

As my feet hit the floor of the lower level, not wanting to waste time with breakfast, I burst into a sprint heading to the garage.

Once inside I grab the keys to my old Honda Civic. Being alone meant I had to make due on my own, I got a job once I got into highschool all the food and other house needs were taken care of by my father, everything else was up to me.

Pulling out I head out onto the road hoping to get some answers. But I’m the back of my mind I know all I’ll get is more questions.

~~

I pull int to my Fathers lab was nerve wrecking it’s been years since I set foot near this place let alone in it.

Stealing my heart letting out a deep breath I leave the comfort of my car and head towards the building.

As soon as I walk in my eyes connect to one of the only consistent person I have in my life. Sadly we both hate each other.

Renoa Hawthorne was an enigma, she never was out right hostile, even played nice when the time called for it. Mainly for public appearances. But there was no mistaking the suffocating cold that lived in her eyes.

I shiver as our eyes meet. That cold took any warmth I had hostage all in a fleeting look.

Her face is devoid of emotion as I walk up to her. “ My dad told me you would take me home once I got here” I say hoping that she was in fact waiting here for me.

A familiar put out sigh leaves her mouth and without a word she turns and takes off in the direction of what I’m guessing is the hallway that leads to my fathers office.

We walk in silence for a few minutes until we reach a door at the end of the hallway with a name plate Blakeman labeled front and center.

She knocks on the door and for a minute there is no noise but quickly enough the door opens enough for a head to stick out.

“What do you want now?” I hear . I lean into view from behind Renoa.

“It’s me, you said to come here… so here I am?” I shrugged.

He looks at me for a second, a strange look passes through his eyes but is gone before I can think any deeper.

He moves back and beckons me into the office. The door is shut firmly behind me as I take in the large room.

It’s a mess to say the least like a tornado came and swooped everything from its perch. I turn to look at my father as he makes his way to a desk overflowing with papers and what looks like schematics.

He turns suddenly and for the first time in years he looks lost. Like he has no idea what to do. “Do you know what’s going on”? I ask ``I'm not going crazy right”? I look up at him waiting for an answer.

“No… There are some things we… need to talk about. It would be better honestly if I showed you”.

Now I’m scared my father has never shown me anything even close to his work, always changing topics or outwrite, demanding I leave it alone.

Without another word he turns and presses a button that opens a door I did not notice was behind him. Scrambling behind him so I don’t get left behind.

Thoughts fly around my head, what is going on?.

We reach a set of stairs that lead us down into a dark corridor. We rush until we make it into a new room, this one has monitors everywhere.

He sits at a monitor and begins typing something in. He then turns his head slightly to me” what do you know about aliens?” I sit there in baffled silence… all this and we end up at aliens? And I thought I was losing it.

But looking closely at the monitors I can see these creatures that look.. different.

“ not much more that the average conspiracy theorists” I snort. The harsh look I revive tells me this is not the time for games. I straighten my back hoping to be taken seriously .

“Ok what does aliens have to do with the call from mom? I ask

“The truth is… your mom never died.. there was so much I couldn’t tell you that I still can’t tell you but it’s gotten out of control and.. and I don’t know what to do”

“What happened? “ I still can’t say but you need to see for yourself so I'm taking you with me”.

“Taking me where?” I’m so confused, like I always thought : more questions than answers.

“To the space station … to see your mother…we leave in an hour” that all I hear before it all fades to darkness.