Page 16 of August and the Night

16

August

I'm in the car with my dad, just like that night. We're talking, and everything seems normal. But then, out of nowhere, this loud, crushing sound! The car starts shaking violently, and I'm thrown around like a ragdoll. Panic rushes through me, and I can't even catch my breath.

I look over at my dad, and his face is twisted in terror. His hands are desperately gripping the steering wheel, but the car is spinning out of control. I can hear his voice, shouting my name, but it's muffled, distant. I want to reach out, to tell him everything will be alright, but my body feels numb.

The other car comes crashing into us, its headlights blinding and piercing. I can't move, can't look away. The impact is brutal, metal crunching and glass shattering. The world flips upside down, and I feel weightless and disoriented. Something's pinning me down, and I can't move my arms.

I see him, my dad, and blood trickling down from a wound on his neck. His eyes are open, but they're empty, lifeless. I scream, "No, no, dad!" I try to reach out for him, but I'm stuck, unable to break free. I can see the horror on his face, and I know something is terribly wrong. Why can't I move? Why can't I save him?

Everything is chaos around us, and I hear sirens wailing in the distance. But I can't focus on anything except my dad. I have to help him, to do something, but I'm paralyzed. It's like I'm trapped in a nightmare, unable to change what's happening. The desperation builds up inside me, and I'm crying out for him.

And then, a jolt runs through me, and I'm suddenly awake, gasping for air. I sit up in bed, sweat-soaked and trembling. It takes me a moment to realize that it was just a nightmare—a terrifying flashback to that awful night. My heart is racing, and I'm gripping the sheets, trying to ground myself.

As I take deep breaths, I wipe away the sweat that resulted from the nightmare. The images are still vivid, the fear still fresh. I press a hand to my chest, feeling the rapid thudding of my heart start to slow down. It's over now, I remind myself. The nightmare can't hurt me anymore.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed and rest my head in my hands. The memories of that night are haunting me, even in my dreams. I wish I could escape them, find some respite from the pain and fear.

My mind is still haunted by the nightmare. I slip out of bed and make my way down the dimly lit hallway to the kitchen. The cold tiles under my feet a good distraction.

I reach the kitchen and switch on the soft overhead light. The room is bathed in a gentle glow. I open one of the cupboards and grab a glass, filling it with water from the tap. As I bring the glass to my lips, I catch a glimpse of the living room through the open doorway.

My eyes settle on the aviary, it’s supposed to be calming, a soothing presence in my home. But right now, it's not enough to quiet the storm in my mind.

I take a sip of water, the cool liquid doing little to ease my restlessness. I set the glass down and step into the living room.

I remember that night—the screeching tires, the blinding lights. My father was driving, and I was in the front seat. The collision was brutal, the impact jarring. The world turned into chaos in an instant. I could hear my dad's panicked screams, feel the car being crushed around us.

I saw it—the life fading from his eyes. I called out for him, for help, for anything. But there was nothing I could do. The pain and the fear were overwhelming.

The car that hit us was being driven by Lily's mother, drunk and high. It was her recklessness that took my dad away from me. The rage I felt, the injustice—it consumed me and my mom. We wanted justice, we wanted her to pay for what she did. But that never happened.

Layla's father, with their powerful and corrupt family, managed to sweep the situation under the rug. Lily's mother got off with just a slap on the wrist. Our pain and loss meant nothing to them. The system failed us, and our cries for justice went unanswered.

My mom couldn't move on from the pain, the anger, the emptiness. Two years later, she couldn't bear it anymore. She took her own life, leaving me alone, lost, and broken. I was thrust into the foster care system, where I was abused and mistreated by those who were supposed to protect me.

In those dark moments, as I endured pain and suffering, a fire ignited within me. A burning desire for revenge against the Lexingtons, against their wealth and power that shielded them from the consequences of their actions. I vowed that I would make them pay for what they did to my family, to my mother.

But karma hit Lily’s parents before I could, they died due to a bad combination of alcohol and drugs. Considering that they ran a drug business, one would think that they would know what types of drugs should not be combined with alcohol. A part of me feels happy that they died that awful death, but the much larger part is angry that I could not make their life a living hell, there are many fates worse than death and I was planning to show them all those fates. They died without being exposed, without their truth being revealed. I was going to do that, show the world what monsters they were, and make people spit on their graves.

I stare at the aviary, its serene presence contrasting with the turmoil inside me. The memories are a heavy weight on my shoulders, a constant reminder of the injustice that plagues our world. The glass of water in my hand trembles slightly, and I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself.

I know that revenge won't bring my dad or my mom back. But it's the only way I can find some semblance of closure, of justice. I won't rest until I've torn down their empire, until they feel the pain they caused me and my family. And maybe, just maybe, in that act of vengeance, I'll find the peace I've been searching for all these years.

17

Layla

I reluctantly open my eyes to the sound of heavy rain. My heart sinks as I remember that today I will have to see my father after such a long time of his absence. The thought of seeing him fills me with fear as well as dread, our relationship has never been easy, and I've learned to be guarded around him.

With a heavy sigh, I force myself to get out of bed, dreading the moment I will hear his voice. The idea of breakfast with him makes my stomach churn, but I know I can't avoid him forever. I head to the bathroom, contemplating ways to make myself look presentable, because he will be sure to let me know if my appearance was not up to his standard.

As I step into the shower, the warm water cascades over me and I feel a shiver run through my body. For just a moment, I close my eyes and imagine that I am anywhere but here, I imagine I am in my lab from the early morning or having breakfast with August; I imagine I am in places that truly appreciate me and not somewhere were my presence is just considered a nuisance. But I must come to reality once again, I open my eyes and finish washing up before stepping out of the shower.

After my hair has dried, I curl my messy waves, trying to tame them into something more put-together, and I give myself a reassuring pep talk in the mirror. I remind myself to stay strong and not let his words or actions get to me. But deep down, a part of me longs for his approval and affection, even though I know he may never truly offer it.

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