Genre (s): New Adult/Drama
Written When? 11th Grade
Prologue
Fifteen years earlier
Crows. That was all he heard during those cooling days in Pennsylvania, and that one was no exception. The crows cawed from their perches in a haunted forest, while restlessly flapping their wings. Their slick, shiny, black feathers could be used as mirrors, for they had groomed them extra hard for Halloween. One at a time, each crow lifted off their branches and soared forward. Cool air rushed through their feathers while they flew. Below them, a dirt road glared, as well as the forest itself.
River water rushed in the distance, but the river sounded sad. It moaned in agony and shame, as if it felt like it didn't belong there. Riley could relate to it.
The crows cawed and kept their eyes peeled for their worst enemies–scarecrows. A Corona Lite bottle cap glistened on the road. The sparkle caught one bird by the eye.
It stopped to hover and searched the area for the glimmer. Looking down, its eyes caught the lone bottle cap, and it quickly stooped. The crow landed on the leaf-covered, littered road and folded its wings. It stared down on the bottle cap, which waited patiently for its dirty beak to pick it up.
It wasn't long until the bird lifted its claws and poked it. Immediately, it jumped and hopped back a few feet when the cap gave off some music. In its feathery brain, the crow decided to take it home to its collection. A toothless mouth showed when it opened its beak, and it scooped up the bottle cap.
Right when it did, a bright light glared at it from behind.
Frightened, the crow dropped its prize and took off in flight once again. Well, so much for that idea, it thought to itself.
The light that scared it off belonged to an old, red truck that rattled and bounced along the unpaved road. Its wheels picked up dead leaves that blew away, due to a sudden gust of wind.
Eight-year-old Riley Kendall was a passenger in the car that drove almost twenty miles over the speed limit. He stared out the window to the haunted forest, buckled up, and tried to stay as far away as possible from his alcoholic, abusive father, who drove.
Every once in a while, he glared at the child out of the corner of his eye and swerved on the road. It was amazing they had not crashed yet.
Riley was given no other choice. Bullied at school, he was forced to throw that other boy into the cubby and give him a bloody nose. He wasn't in trouble with just his teacher and school, but also with his father, who was the nastiest man to ever walk the planet. If and when they got home, he knew it wasn't going to be pretty.
Riley grew up to be covered in scars and bruises from his abusive father. His characteristics included blackish brown hair, pretty, light blue eyes, and pale tan skin. He was dressed in all black, for that was his life–a cumulonimbus cloud that covered him in rain and never left. Riley tried to fight off the cloud, but it always returned: with more rain, more lightning, and more thunder to make him even more depressed.
The truck continued on the road. Before long, a driveway appeared, and it swerved onto it. It drove in the direction of an old farmhouse, which was surrounded by a dark forest and plains. The plains continued on and on, never seeming to end.
The day was so dreary that even the forest itself called into the atmosphere. begging for the dreariness to leave. They didn't have much luck.
Two minutes later, the truck stopped in front of the farmhouse, and its bright eyes landed on it. Old wood fell from the roof, and the key was pulled out of the ignition. Like a robot, the car shut down for the night.
In a cold voice, Archie, Riley's father, growled, "Let's go, son." There definitely was anger in his voice. He wanted to hurt the boy, but he refused to move from where he sat.
Traumatized, he pulled his jacket up close and didn't dare unbuckle himself. That wasn't going to stop his father. He opened the door on the driver's side and climbed out, landing in the gravelly driveway. When he shut it, he marched around the car and headed in the direction of his son's door. Grabbing the handle, he threw it open with such force that it looked like it could've broken.
Riley didn't move. Petrified tears streamed down his face.
Archie unbuckled him, and his meaty fingers snatched him by the upper arm. With Riley's arm in his grip, he chucked him into a mud puddle, as if he were a rag doll, and slammed the door of the truck shut. The fall covered the eight-year-old in mud, and it didn't help his fear. For the second time, the meaty fingers grabbed his arm and pulled him up.
Riley's feet dragged on the ground since he didn't want to walk. He focused forward to the dark forest, as Archie lugged him towards the front door of the house. He wanted to break free and hide in them. Once under the treetops, he would never leave them. Riley couldn't make a run for it, because he was in too tight of a grip, and he wasn't strong enough to free himself and clutch for freedom.
Another car nestled in the driveway. It told Riley that his mother, Renee, was home. Most likely, she was either fixing dinner or reading in a lounge chair, totally unaware of what was about to happen.
Archie continued to drag his fighting son, and he yelled, "Quit squirming, you little rat!" He pulled him up the stairs to the deck and turned the front door's doorknob.
The wooden door creaked open, revealing the blackness of the house. The kitchen was on the left. It was proven that Riley's mother was cooking because he could sniff the scent of a casserole. How much he wanted to hurry into the kitchen and eat something, but he couldn't. A single spare door hovered in front of him and his father. That was where Archie took him.
He pulled him in that direction and stopped in front of the door. Once there, he lifted his hand and pushed it open.
It groaned with despair. In the spare room, it was dark, spooky, and quiet.
Just with that one room, Riley felt like the house was haunted.
Ghosts laughed from the mirrors, just like the bullies at school. A single desk rested in front of Riley and his father.
The young boy honestly had no idea what he did to deserve a life like this. Like any other child, he had a life and a reason to live. Though, he didn't feel like he belonged anywhere. He was too depressed.
When he and Archie were in the room, the door slammed shut behind, as if by magic. The force of it caused a picture on the desk to shake. The picture revealed Riley, Archie, and Renee when Riley was a toddler. That was a time when he thought his father loved him. Now he realized that he never did and just wanted to hurt him, instead.
Archie threw his son to the ground.
With mud streaks running down his cheeks, the boy sneezed through the dust. He sat up, and his long bangs hung in his face. Terrified, he crawled back and hid under the desk that was propped against the wall. He hugged the leg furthest away from his father. He wanted to turn invisible, but he knew he wasn't capable of a superpower. The manly feet of his father paused in front of him. Riley held his breath.
While he cowered under the desk, Archie chewed him out in a drunken voice: "This is getting out of hand, Riley! Starting fights at school!"
Riley was too scared to move and fight back. He just let his father scream at him. "You better come out, young man, or do we have to do this with force?"
Riley didn't answer. He closed his eyes and shook under the table. Before he knew it, the large hands grabbed his shirt collar and forcefully picked him up from the ground. During the process, Riley's head smacked the ceiling of the table, and a searing pain encased his skull.
Archie jerked him close to his face.
The child tried to free himself. He fought the hands, but before he knew it, his own hand flew back and hit the picture. It crashed into the wall, and the glass broke into tiny pieces.
Seeing that, Archie screamed and cursed out the boy. He purposely chucked him into the desk.
Riley fell right through it. He slammed into the hard ground and yelled, as the desk's two pieces fell over. Little Riley cradled his arm and rolled onto his side, glancing up at his father.
Furious, he clenched his hand into a fist and punched him across the cheek. The pain was excruciating.
Riley burst out sobbing. He covered his bleeding, throbbing cheek.
Archie wasn't done yet, but just before he could hit him again, a female voice was heard from behind. "Archie!"
It was Renee. Riley's mother had come to his rescue once again. She stood in the doorway, in a pink bathrobe, and flipped up the room's light switch. A bright, illuminating light invaded the room.
Riley took deep breaths from where he rested.
His mother's eyes rolled over to him. "Riley!" Hurrying to her son, she picked him up.
The petrified child hugged her tightly. He had no idea how his mother ended up marrying that jerk of his father.
Renee patted her child's head and said, "Shh, Riley, shh. It's over now."
No, it wasn't. The abuse was never over.
Renee shot Archie an angry look. "Archie, meet me outside. We need to chat."
Archie refused. He twisted his neck to the left and closed his eyes.
"Did you not hear me?" Renee angrily asked. "You better get outside, or you're not having dinner tonight!"
Right after she said that, Archie's tummy rumbled, and he blushed. Sucking in a breath of air, he pointed his nose at the room's ceiling and stormed out of the room.
Renee waited until he opened the front door and disappeared outside. She then put Riley down.
He rubbed his eyes, continuing to shake with fear.
Kneeling to him, Renee took his shoulder and asked, "Are you all right, my dear?"
Riley shook his head no.
His mother nodded. She understood him completely. Reaching behind her back, she drew a green handkerchief. "Let's clean you up." Renee wiped down his muddy face and cleaned the wound on his cheek before returning the hankie to her care. Like Riley, her hair was blackish brown, and she wore a blue nightgown under her bathrobe. She gave her son a tiny push towards the door and an old, wooden staircase that would take him up to his room. "Why don't you head upstairs to your room, and I'll bring you dinner? Move along, son."
Riley started to climb the stairs.
Renee watched from below, to make sure he wasn't severely hurt. He looked all right, but when he vanished into his room, tears invaded her eyes. She placed a clenched fist to her forehead. Tears splashed onto her knuckles. "Oh, my poor child." When Renee calmed down, she shuffled outside and became involved in a heated argument with Archie.
From his window, Riley eavesdropped. He knew they were talking about him.
He cried from where he sat but cried harder when he heard his drunken father ask, "Why don't we just dump into the garbage if you think it will make him happy?"
Renee had a feeling Riley was listening. She turned her head in the direction of his window.
Quickly, her son retreated from it. The torn curtains fell, starting to dangle. He sat on the floor of his room, feeling nothing but fear and anger. Riley tried to prevent the urge to throw something, but he knew it wouldn't solve anything. He just accepted the fact that he was going to be haunted by his devil all his life. That was as if he decided to live that long and not commit suicide. Riley hated his life.
His room was extremely messy and dark. A single lamp lit it up. It was on a dresser next to his bed. The floor was covered in papers, books, and clothes. Every paper had drawings of monsters with vampire teeth and sharp claws on them.
Riley rubbed the tears from his eyes and glanced at his bed, which had plain, white covers and pillows. Near the middle of his room, against the wall, was a desk filled with school books. In the heart of the room sat an acoustic guitar.
The young boy crawled to it and sat on his heels, picking it up. Something about the guitar was special to him. He didn't know what but something was. Was it the nicely polished wood... the perfect strings?
The boy sat there for a few more seconds, silent, and then he plucked a single chord. Very quietly, he sang a small lyric: Stop the abuse. It's gotten old. Riley's voice was beautiful and filled with innocence and sweetness. It was calming enough to soothe even the fiercest rage.
The magic didn't work, though, and almost immediately, the anger returned. Riley tossed the guitar onto his bed and held his head. He couldn't help himself. The fear was too great. He had what seemed to be a nervous breakdown and screamed.
Riley proceeded to turn over his desk. The books flew in every direction. He picked up his chair and threw it into his dresser. It broke on impact. The force of the throw caused the lamp to tip and crash to the ground. Like the picture's glass, it broke into pieces.
Riley threw school books into the wall. He didn't bother to pick them, the lamp, and the desk up. Instead, he screamed again and fell onto his bed, face in the pillow. His foot kicked his guitar, and it slid off the bed, landing on the floor. While he lied, the child inhaled breaths of air. He couldn't stand his life anymore! Riley had to send a call for help! Deep down, he was a very sweet child who had great taste in music. He just needed some assistance defeating his depression. He needed someone special–someone, who would help him realize his reason for living on Earth. Every living being had a reason, including children facing abuse.
The little boy waited until midnight. When he was sure his parents were asleep, he got out of bed and scooted over to his closet. Checking behind him, he carefully opened the door and flipped up the light switch. Just like the rest of his room, the small closet was messy, but Riley never bothered to clean it. His eyes landed on the top shelf and then a wooden chair in the corner. Nodding, he pulled up the chair and climbed onto its face. Riley reached up to the top shelf and felt around for something he's held onto his entire life. Finding it, he removed from the shelf... a glass bottle with a rolled-up piece of paper inside it, much like the ship in the bottle.
Riley clutched it to his breast and hopped down from the chair. He tiptoed out of the closet and over to his dresser, where he pulled out a flashlight. All right, he had everything he needed.
As quiet as a mouse, Riley tiptoed to his door and opened it, peering into the dark hallway. As he escaped the safety of his room and headed toward the outside world, he examined the piece of paper in the bottle. He hoped that one day, somebody would discover it and rescue him from his living Hell.
With hair covering his right eye, the child slowly and carefully descended the wooden stairs of the staircase that creaked under his feet. Nothing came from his parents' room, except his father's drunken snores.
Riley soon reached the base of the stairs. He carefully approached the front door. As soon as his small hand opened it, a blast of cool air scanned him like the rays of a lighthouse. The dark clouds from before remained in the sky, but black figures in front of the child told him where the forest was. The wind picked up the sound of the rushing river and made music.
It wasn't long until nervous Riley stood under the forest's treetops, with his flashlight on.
Watching him from a tree branch was an owl. It said, "Whoo," to the child. It was even darker in the forest than it was outside them, but that didn't stop Riley from accomplishing his goal.
As he made his way through the trees, branches cracked under his feet. He followed the sound of the river and at one point, hopped over a log. The closer he approached it, the tenser he grew.
After fifteen minutes of nerve-racking exploring in the forest with only a dying flashlight to guide him, Riley finally stumbled upon the river. Like the river at Kings Canyon National Park in California, it was very active. Rushing water repeatedly crashed into rocks and created waves. Dead leaves floated on top of the violence.
Eight-year-old Riley soon lifted the bottle he held and glanced at the piece of paper inside, with an upset face. It was time for him to say goodbye to his only friend that he's held onto his whole life. His sneakers touched a small pool in the river. The water's chill prickled his skin as if a cactus started to grow on it.
Riley stayed strong. Closing his eyes, he placed the surface of the bottle to his forehead and begged for it to give him strength and to share his life message with the world. He wished with all his might that it would find someone willing to love him the way a person should be loved.
After making his wish, the young boy opened his eyes and leaned closer to the river's surface. First, he checked to make sure the coast was clear, which it was. Then, placing his hand in the water, he let the bottle go and gave it a small push.
The rapids immediately caught it when it entered the main river and whisked it downstream.
Riley jogged after it from the riverbed, but it wasn't long until he lost his mind again and let out a piercing scream. His scream was so loud that tree branches hugged each other for comfort, and a flock of nighthawks took off in flight. Riley didn't want to return home, but he had to. He needed a roof under his head and food in his belly.
A rumble of thunder exploded into the atmosphere, right when the young boy fell onto his backside on the riverbed. Rain pelted him, like sticks mixed with hail.
Alone with no hope of defeating his depression, Riley pulled his muddy knees up close and buried his face in them. He started to cry, and he cried all through the night, even when he eventually returned home.
His call for help traveled a long way: three days straight. Its journey took it through the night, storm, and the river's rough water. Somehow, it managed to avoid getting thrown and shattered against rocks. When the bottle's rough journey ended, it became caught in between two rocks in another small pool and stayed put. The days bled into weeks. For three weeks straight, nobody ever discovered Riley Kendall's call for help, until one very special day.
Prologue cont.
Three weeks later
It was quiet those three weeks before the bottle was discovered, but when it was, the dreary autumn days had faded into beautiful, fairly cool ones instead. A day like that one–a week after Hollow's Eve during the first weekend of November–was a perfect day to go camping. Sure enough, the young girl who found Riley's bottle had gone on a camping trip with her grandparents while her parents were out of town.
The morning she discovered the bottle, it was about 10:00. She sat writing in a camping chair at her campsite, which was right next to the rushing river. The ten-year-old girl was very beautiful. She had curly, blonde hair and big, bright, blue eyes. Unlike Riley's eyes, hers were full of life. Never in her life had she experienced one form of abuse. She came from a very wonderful family–a family who loved her. Her life was paradise compared to Riley's.
To put herself in the camping spirit, the young girl wore some outdoorsy clothes. They consisted of: a tan shirt, a tan pair of shorts held up by a blue buckle, and tan hiking boots.
Her grandfather soon crawled out of their large, green tent and into the chilly atmosphere. He slipped his glasses over his eyes and stretched his arms over his head. With a relaxed sigh, he came within reach of his granddaughter, who peeked up from her notebook.
"Good morning, Grandpa. You sure slept late today," she said.
Chuckling, her grandfather pinched her cheek and happily spoke, "Of course, dear Clarissa. After that ghost story your grandmother shared last night,–" He shivered, "I was haunted by nightmares. I don't think I fell asleep until midnight!"
Clarissa chortled. "Oh, Grandpa. You never change." She pointed at their coffee mug, which rested on the campsite's picnic table. "There's coffee there if you want any."
Her grandfather thanked her and headed toward the table. As he poured himself a cup of coffee, he smiled and asked, "So, what are you writing about this time?"
"Oh," Clarissa spoke. Right, her grandfather loved it when she told him about her latest story. They were a perfect combination. Clarissa loved writing, and her grandfather loved hearing about her work. She approached him while he drank his coffee and explained, "I honestly think it is one of the best stories I've ever written, Grandpa!"
"Really?" he asked, taking another sip from his coffee cup. "I'm all ears, dear."
Clarissa sat down at the picnic table and flipped through the pages of her notebook. She continued her explanation. "It's about a young man who experienced a troubling childhood, but he made up for it by starting a band. The inspiration came from that music video I saw the other day."
"Hm." Her grandfather nodded. "That's a good story, Clarissa. Before you get too famous, make sure you let me read it."
"Don't worry, I will. After all, I love you, Grandpa." Clarissa stood up and approached her grandfather's side. She gave him a tight hug and looked him in the eyes. "I love you just as much as I love Mom, Dad, and Grandma."
"Speaking of your grandma..." her grandfather said. He searched the campsite. "Where is she this morning?"
Clarissa let him go and explained, "Oh, she went for a walk around Loop A, but she should be back soon. She told me before she left, 'I gotta keep these ole' bones motorin', Clarissa!'"
Her grandfather nodded and said, "Yep, that is my definitely baby doll. Always finding some way to exercise." He took another sip from his coffee mug, and his eyes rolled over to their campsite's fireplace, where he discovered they were low on wood. "Look at that, dear." Clarissa did, and he added, "We're low on wood. Well, I guess I'll saunter into the forest and search for some after breakfast."
He prepared to finish the rest of his coffee in one sip, but Clarissa stopped him. "Now just wait a minute, Grandpa!" She lowered the cup from his hand. "For the past week, who's the person you've been doing chores for while her parents are on vacation at Malibu?"
"You?" he guessed.
"Exactly, and I think it is safe to say that I should do something for you for a change. Why don't I get some firewood, and you can wait here for Grandma and have some breakfast?"
Her grandfather, at first, hesitated, "Um," but Clarissa patted his shoulder.
"All right! Thank you! I will journey into that forest and pick out some of the best firewood in the park! You can count on me!" Excitedly closing her notebook, she hugged it to her breasts and made her way towards the forest, in the direction of the river. "I'll be back soon. I promise, Grandpa."
He knew he couldn't stop her,–Clarissa loved the woods too much–so he just called, "Don't go too far now, dear!"
"I won't!" Clarissa's young voice slowly faded away as she hopped into the forest and started her journey.
Behind, her grandfather chuckled and shook his head. "Ah, ten-year-olds," he told himself, as images of his own childhood played in his brain.
Clarissa found a little path in the forest that led to the river. She followed it on her quest for firewood. She jogged past some ferns and brushed her fingers against them. The rays of the sun bled through the treetops and gave the peaceful forest a magical feeling. Clarissa loved nature. She felt right at home in it.
It wasn't long until she opened her notebook and wrote while she walked and searched. "So, let's see, the young man had a troubling childhood. Perhaps it could be that he wasn't treated right as a child? How about he discovers his new life and what he is meant to do in the woods? Yeah. That's a good idea. That's a great idea!" Clarissa quickly wrote the idea down in the Note section of her notebook. She pressed it against her chest. Laughing, she started to twirl and dance on the path. "Firewood, firewood, firewood," she repeated to herself as she did that.
Within just five more minutes, Clarissa found the end of the path. It fed right into a sandy beach on the riverbed. She grinned with all her white teeth when she saw it. Not only did she find perfect firewood, but she also discovered the beauty of nature to its fullest.
Birds chirped in the trees, and the river's sparkly water brushed up against the sand. It was hard to believe there was abuse in the world.
Once she had a nice pile of wood next to a rock, Clarissa played a little on the beach. She took off her boots and socks and twirled like she did on the path in her bare feet. The entire time she did, she cuddled her precious notebook. Clarissa was forced to stop dancing, though, and wade in one of the river's pools when she witnessed something amazing.
Across the body of water, sipping it from another pool was a family of deer. There was a buck, a doe, and even a fawn.
"Whoa!" quietly said the ten-year-old. She cracked another grin when the fawn took its head out of the pool and playfully trotted around its parents.
Its mother bumped noses with it, and they rubbed up against each other. It was an adorable sight. Sadly, even a handful of young animals had a better family than Riley Kendall.
Clarissa happily watched the deer until they left and headed back into the forest. Lifting her hand, she waved goodbye to them and turned on her heel. On her way back to the firewood, she tripped over something in the pool and fell. She managed to save her notebook at the last second by tossing it onto the sandy beach.
Clarissa soon rested on her buttocks in the somewhat calm water, and she rubbed them with both hands. "Ow! That's going to leave a mark. What was that?" She searched the area but saw nothing.
After a bit, the girl made a wild guess. "It was probably just a rock." She prepared to stand back up. Just before she could, her blue eyes landed on something floating in the water, and her jaw dropped. What she saw was the call for help Riley Kendall sent just three weeks prior. Small waves slapped against it and pushed it up to the riverbed. All Clarissa could do was stare.
"Who on earth is polluting the river?" she asked a few minutes later. She hated it when people trashed nature with litter. The piece of litter she was staring at, though, was important, and it didn't take her long to figure that out.
Clarissa reached for the bottle and pulled it out of the pool. When she did, she noticed the piece of paper inside and asked, "What's this?" Holding the bottle in one hand, she used the other one to pull off its cork, just out of curiosity.
Once the cork was off, the young girl shook the paper into her free hand and gently set both the cork and bottle onto a rock. "A message in a bottle?" was her next question as she scanned the crumpled piece of paper. She'd never seen one of them before, except in movies. It was remarkable. However, things went from zero to one hundred very quickly the second she unrolled the scroll and read the message. It was a bit hard to make out because the paper was watered out, but Clarissa managed to. When she did, she read the words aloud:
"I have been pierced in the heart, and I won't ever heal.
Stop the abuse. It's gotten old.
Let the past unfold, and replace it with joy."
Riley"
The instant she finished reading the message, Clarissa had a terrible vision in her head. Leaping to her feet, she asked, "Huh?" and stumbled out of the pool. Her brain played the life of the person who wrote the call–the life that came to mind.
She heard a little boy crying and screaming, "Stop! Help! Help! He's killing me!" It was as if Clarissa left the real world and went into the world of the scroll's writer. "No!" yelled the boy once again.
Clarissa quickly turned in the direction of the forest, for an image in her head appeared in front of it–a mirage.
It showed a bed and the figure of a little boy sprinting to it. He dove under the frame and vanished.
It wasn't long until another figure appeared. That one was much taller and older. He stumbled over to the bed–it looked like he was drunk–and leaned over it. With his right palm, the figure pressed it up against the bed's cover. With his other hand, he gripped its side. Straining, he lifted the piece of furniture and turned it over. It crashed onto its side, and the little boy who had dived under it was revealed, curled in a ball. The taller figure immediately grabbed his arm and chucked him to the ground.
"No!" the child screamed, as the huge feet stomped towards him.
Clarissa couldn't take it anymore! This was horrifying! It was enough to ruin her day. It was worse than her story. "Quit it!" she shouted at her brain. Finally, she escaped the vision and returned to the real world.
Crying, the ten-year-old girl collapsed to her knees and brought the scroll to her face. "Thi-This person!" she choked out. "He's a victim of child abuse! I have to find him! I have to save him!" She never knew she could get so emotional from merely reading a scroll.
Soon, the young girl calmed down. She reread the message in the scroll. "All right, his name is Riley. But there could be hundreds of Rileys out there! No! No! I refuse to give up!" Clarissa leaped to her feet and peeked over her shoulder to the river. "I will search my whole life if I have to. Riley, hang on. One of these days, I am going to save you."
Just before she could think of where to start, she heard the voice of her grandfather calling her from their campsite. "Clarissa, are you all right? It's time to come back, sweetie!"
"Just give me a minute, Grandpa! Please!" Clarissa called back.
A gust of wind blew her hair, and her eyes rolled down to the message one last time. It was right there her grand adventure began. It also was the first time she noticed Riley wrote in what looked like song lyrics. The events in Clarissa's novel would eventually come true, but in the end, the only thing left behind would be the bittersweet story.
Part 1
The Man, Woman, and Child
Fifteen years later
The only memories Riley Kendall had of his childhood were of the abuse and mistreatment. That was all he dreamed. Not once in his life did he have a good dream... only memories.
The dream he had now, fifteen years later, was no exception. Riley saw himself as a little child, the time before Archie chucked him into the desk. It was only the first day of kindergarten when children started to make fun of him and commented he was weird. That led to five-year-old Riley throwing a child to the ground. He pulled out his hair until his teacher hurried to him and jerked him off.
The next memory the dream showed was the time Archie threw him into the desk and punched him. He could still hear the wood cracking and feel the excruciating pain.
When he was eleven, Riley lost his mother to a car accident. Her death played in his mind next. She died at the hospital, only three hours later, with Riley, Archie, and her mother hovering over her bedside. Afterward, his father and grandmother took him in. The abuse only got worse from there. By then, Riley's mother could no longer rescue him.
He remembered a time when he was fourteen years old. After seeing some boys from school who both had girlfriends in a store, Riley stole some clothes from them, in an attempt to look like them. He thought that maybe if he did, then he, too, could get a girl to love him.
He was caught almost immediately, and the storekeeper forcefully pushed him out of the store.
As mean as they were, the two boys he saw drew their phones and shot pictures of him. They put them on Facebook and put nasty comments under them. After that, kids at school stayed as far away as possible from Riley Kendall. Every time he got close to a kid, they either shoved him up against a locker or kicked him to the ground.
The final memory of his dream showed a time also at fourteen when his grandmother caught him cutting himself.
Stopping Riley, she took him into his room and cleaned his wound. She talked to the depressed teen while she did that. Next to him, on the bed cover, rested the guitar he had when he was eight years old. He gave it the name Reggie.
***
If it wasn't for his grandmother's support, Riley most likely would have committed suicide. He never would have gone to college and started a life of his own, but he did.
To get as far away as possible from his abusive father, he moved from Pennsylvania to Greenville, South Carolina. When he was in school, Riley majored in music. He loved music. That was all he wanted to do. Despite that, he had no luck getting a career. Bands always turned him down, as well as schools. He and Reggie traveled all over South Carolina looking for the perfect job, but they never succeeded. The two were forced to settle down in Greenville, and the only job Riley could afford was a librarian at the Downtown Library since he minored in English. While he enjoyed books and writing, he felt like he wasn't meant to be cooped up in a library all his life. His talents belonged somewhere else,–in music–but he didn't know where.
Even though he now lived in an apartment in Downtown Greenville, the mistreatment, abuse, bullying, and cyberbullying from his childhood were still fresh in his brain. Riley grew up only to fear the world and live as just a depressed soul. Nobody ever came to help him. That proved to the young man that nobody ever found his call for help he sent when he was ten years old. If somebody did, they didn't care about him.
Riley's apartment was located near Main Street, but he seldom left it. The only times he did was when he went to work, to the bank, or to get groceries. Now, at times, he did go for a walk down to Falls Park on the Reedy, but that wasn't often. The outside world traumatized Riley. He was scared that everybody was just like his father or the bullies from his childhood. Never in his life had he had a friend or a lover. He lived alone and isolated from the world. Riley loved children, though, and he wanted a child, but everybody in the small city hated him and never gave him advice on what to do.
His apartment was on the second story of a fairly nice complex. Down below, in the parking lot, sat his red Chevrolet truck. He bought it the second he graduated from college and immediately got the heck out of Pennsylvania. He didn't dare stop by his house and say goodbye to his father. He knew he would only receive another scar if he did.
Unfortunately, Riley wasn't able to say goodbye to his supportive grandmother, because she died from cancer a week before his college graduation ceremony. Now, at age twenty-three, he still never saw an angel, but his devil instead. The young man always had a cumulonimbus cloud hovering over his head, but he was unaware that deep down, he was much more than a depressed soul.
That day, like the day when Clarissa discovered his bottle, it was cool and beautiful. Outside, the birds migrated south, since winter was coming, and soared over the cheerful streets of Downtown Greenville. Gorgeous red, orange, and yellow leaves covered the trees. That fall had been one of the prettiest falls in all of Greenville's history.
The sunlight slipped through Riley's apartment window and crept towards him. He buried himself under his bed's covers and shook with fear, as memories of his childhood repeatedly re-winded themselves in his dreaming brain.
His apartment was completely unorganized. In his bathroom, his clothes hung everywhere, as if they were wafting from a clothesline, Junk covered every floor of the apartment. Riley's guitar, Reggie, sat propped up against the closet.
He didn't want to wake up, but the sun forced him. Its rays shone past the digital clock on his dresser, which read 8:00 am, and bled through his pillow. They caused the young man to shuffle and turn over. What really woke him up was his alarm clock.
The radio gave off a scream of rock music.
Riley, terrified, fell out of his bed. He took his covers with him, and they encased him in a cocoon-like state. The sheets made it look like the cocoon was just getting ready to release a magnificent butterfly.
For a minute or two, Riley remained on the ground. He finally threw the sheets off, and they joined the impatient clothes and junk on the floor. The radio continued to blare, and he groaned.
Riley Kendall grew up to be a very handsome, young man. His messy, blackish brown hair reached for the bottom of his neck, and his bangs always seemed to cover his right eye. He still had his light blue eyes and pale, tan skin. He was dressed in a gray sleep shirt, blue sleep shorts, and white socks. He looked like any average twenty-three-year-old man.
Covering his ears with his palms, he yelled, "Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" at his radio. Riley's voice was deep but not too deep. It sounded like it belonged to a twenty-three-year-old.
Oh, how he hated it when rock music woke him up at eight in the morning. He just wanted to sleep, which was common in depressed men.
Still half asleep, the young man struggled to a standing position and dragged his feet over to his alarm, the digital clock. He turned it off, and everything turned quiet again, except for the sound of an ambulance siren in the distance. That just told Riley he was living in the city.
With his eyes still closed, he yawned and scratched the side of his head. He tried to fall back asleep and plopped down on his cover-less bed again, but the sun's rays didn't let him.
Letting out a low sigh, finally, the young man opened his light blue eyes, which were still full of fear. He sat up and observed his messy apartment. As he rested on his bed, he mourned his life.
Riley gripped his head with both hands and frightfully growled. It was another day of Hell, in his opinion. Eventually climbing out of bed, he shuffled over to his closed curtains and gripped one. Opening it just a tiny bit, Riley peeked down to Downtown Greenville's sidewalks. Already, it was very busy. His eyes caught a few children skipping with their parents towards Falls Park.
They laughed while they did.
Just seeing them, Riley's heart filled with rage and pain, and he tightly gripped the curtain. Unlike him, those children probably had the best parents in the world.
He placed the back of his hand to his eyes, to hide his tears, and disappeared behind the curtain. When he managed to control himself, he peeked out the window again. Riley decided that maybe today would be a good day for him to take a small walk down to Falls Park on the Reedy. He loved Falls Park. Besides, it was the weekend. He worked it out with the library so that he did not have to go in during the weekend unless it was a dire emergency. Whenever he went to Falls Park, he usually sat near the Reedy River and observed it. While sitting there, he tried to forget everything that happened in his childhood.
With a plan in mind, the young man gloomily approached his dresser and opened a drawer. Reaching inside, he pulled out some clothes and shuffled into the bathroom to change. He looked like moonless midnight when he did. He wore a black shirt with a grenade pattern on it, black pants, black boots, and a black jacket that had some black lace at the wrists. The lace hovered over his hands.
In Riley's messy bathroom, shirts hung from the poles towels were supposed to hang from. Instead, there were piles of towels in the shower. Normally, the young man wasn't that messy, but despite what he was going through, he didn't bother to clean his apartment.
He zipped up his jacket after getting dressed and came within reach of the counter that had his sink, toothbrush, toothpaste, etc. on it. The young man leaned in close to the mirror and studied himself. He wasn't smiling, and the agony was almost too clear in his eyes. In all his twenty-three years of living, Riley Kendall never smiled. The depression and suicidal thoughts were too great. Instead of seeing a handsome, young man in the mirror, Riley saw his devil. His face changed into the face of a creature with white eyes, no pupils, and a gaping mouth with fangs.
The devil snapped them at him and prepared to pin him down–never to let him up again.
Riley couldn't stand the sight. He turned away, with his head hung. He left the bathroom and entered his apartment's kitchen, which was just as messy as everywhere else. For breakfast, he had a banana and a glass of milk. Due to his depression, he lost his appetite.
By the time he finished breakfast, the time was 8:45. However, before Riley knew it, a wave of sudden rage engulfed his entire body. He took his anger out on both the kitchen's wooden table and chair. Grabbing the table, he turned it over. It crashed into the floor. Riley next picked up the chair. He chucked it into the wall and tightly clenched his fists.
After letting out his anger, Riley finally decided to start his journey to Falls Park. He came within reach of his apartment's front door and placed his fingers on the doorknob. The door swung open at his command. Stepping outside, Riley closed the door behind him and headed over to a staircase that took him down to the apartment complex's parking lot. He saw his red truck, but he refused to drive it. He could easily walk to Falls Park. After all, that was the job of his legs.
A cold wind caused his almost black hair to blow, and he hung his head once again. Placing his frozen hands into his jacket's pockets, he descended the stairs and officially started his journey to Falls Park.
***
Riley headed in the direction of a clothes shop known as Mast General Store. Many women around his age went there, sometimes with their children and sometimes alone. Riley didn't know everything about it, only because he rarely left his apartment. Just being in the outside world surrounded by people glaring at him caused another vision of his past to hit his head, and he shivered.
Before long, he made it to a crosswalk with a few other people. Without looking both ways, he went ahead and crossed the street.
People on the sidewalk yelled at him to get out of the way, but he ignored them.
A few cars screeched to a stop so they wouldn't hit him and turn him into the next Flat Stanley.
Irritated drivers screamed curses at him, but Riley paid them no attention and stepped onto the other side of the crosswalk. The sidewalk he walked on now was on Main Street. Apartments, buildings, restaurants, and stores hovered all around him. A few of the buildings had old apartment windows and structures on top of them.
Riley continued his journey to Falls Park. He crept closer to Mast General Store. He sauntered with his teeth clenched together, his right eye hidden by hair, and his hands still in his pockets. Not far from him stood a young couple who sipped some coffee cups they got at Starbucks.
Riley forcefully pushed his way through them. The impact caused them to spill their drinks.
Enraged, the man snapped at him: "Hey! Who are you? How dare you spill our drinks!"
His girlfriend stared at Riley, but she wasn't interested in him.
Riley, on the other hand, was, but the look she gave him told him he was just risking another kick to the ground. Therefore, he hurried along.
Behind, the young couple glanced at each other.
"Some people can be so rude," the woman said.
Her boyfriend nodded in agreement.
Riley kept forcing his way through people. When he passed Mast General Store, he ended up shoving one person, a woman, to the ground. The bag she got from Mast General flew from her hand, but Riley didn't bother to pick both it and her up. He just marched on.
Even though her hip hurt a little, the woman wasn't at all angry with him. She got up on hands and knees and followed every movement of the man who just knocked her down. The woman looked a little familiar. She had long, curly, blonde hair and big, bright, blue eyes. The woman was dressed in a pretty, black dress with a white sweater over it and heels. She was a beautiful woman who looked to be about twenty-five years old, two years older than Riley. Over her shoulder, she wore a cute, white purse that had a black handle. Within the purse was a notebook.
The woman had an urge to see who the man was who knocked her down, so she grabbed her shopping bag and hopped to her feet. She chased after Riley, but she lost him when she ended up running into a group of people. The woman gripped one person by the shoulder and pushed through him, but it was already too late when she made it out of the crowd. The man who knocked her down had vanished without a trace.
***
Riley made it to Falls Park on the Reedy, shortly after passing Mast General. He pushed through a few more people to do so. The young man faced Falls Park's Liberty Bridge. It was an exquisite, white bridge in Greenville, South Carolina, and one of the main highlights of Falls Park. It hung directly over the Reedy River itself. People constantly stepped on it, leaving it with shoe stains. From the bridge, they could see the river's beautiful waterfall.
People surrounded Riley Kendall. Young couples sat on blankets in the grass and enjoyed a picnic.
Children joyfully played in the river and tried to mess with some ducks.
Riley stood directly in front of the Liberty Bridge. He gazed across it. At the other end rested the stage for Shakespeare in the Park. Students from the Governor's School for Arts performed there. Rolling hills surrounded the stage and waited patiently for either a play or band to entertain them, as well as the citizens of Greenville. They needed some entertainment, but there was no telling when that would come.
Riley sat at a table next to the bridge and buried his face in his arms.
A college student sat at another table behind him, typing into a computer. Every once in a while, he thoughtfully drummed his fingers on the face of it.
At his table, Riley paid no attention to the people surrounding him, asking if he was all right. He just sat there, with his head on his arms, and fixed his eyes on the catwalk. Feeling ashamed, he let out a low exhale and buried his head more.
It wasn't long until a young woman, not the blonde-headed one, noticed him. She took an immediate attraction to the young man. She brought her nails to her teeth and chuckled flirtingly. She then sat next to him.
Riley felt the air she gave off when she did and immediately knew somebody had joined him at the table. He especially knew when the woman wrapped her fingers around his upper arm. Twisting his head, Riley peered up to her face, but from out of the blue, he let out a terrified scream. He leaped to his feet and took off at a full sprint.
Heads turned in his direction.
The woman sat confused at the table. All she did was touch his arm, and he took off running. What did she do to make him so horrified? The truth was when Riley glanced into her face, he saw his devil. Not her. Only what he felt–what tormented him.
Now crossing the Liberty Bridge, Riley gripped the railing and peered down to the river, where he saw a few children playfully feeding a few of the ducks. Once again, at the sight of the children living life to its fullest, an arrow of depression and fear stabbed his heart. He tightened his grip on the railing and tried everything he could to stop himself from crying. All he wanted in life was for someone to love him, like the children he saw on the streets.
Riley eventually let go of the railing and crossed the rest of the bridge, where he stumbled upon the park that had the stage for Shakespeare in the Park.
He was unaware that behind him, the woman he knocked down in front of Mast General Store had also crossed it. She came to Falls Park to pick up her six-year-old daughter from her ex-husband. She had spent the night with her father. He and her mother swapped off every few days. They didn't get a divorce because of arguing;–they rarely did–they just learned they weren't meant for each other. They were still good friends, and being friends was good enough. The world of love was a complicated one.
The blonde-headed, young woman met up with her ex-husband, Ferguson, at the Shakespeare in the Park stage. There, she found her daughter Mallory.
She ran all around the stage's wood, with costume fairy wings on her back, and pretended to fly by holding out her arms. She was a pretty, young girl, who looked more like her father than her mother, although she shared the same blue eyes and curly hair. Her hair, though, was brown, and she held it up in a ponytail with a hair bow. She wore a blue shirt that had some pink in it, as well as a fairy design, and a pink and blue skirt. Wrapped around her neck was a blue scarf.
Her shoes consisted of brown boots that she wore over her white tights. Over her head, she wore a crown that had a picture of all the Tinkerbell fairies on it. In her hand, she held a Silvermist doll, because Silvermist was her favorite out of the six. The two of them flew all over Pixie Hollow and practiced their Water Fairy magic. At least, that was what Mallory was playing.
Ferguson watched her from where he rested on the stage. He dangled one leg off the wood, and the other rested on it. Like Mallory, he also had brown hair and blue eyes, but Mallory got her curls from her mother. He was dressed in a gray shirt with a blue jacket over it, khaki pants that reached just below his knees, and sneakers.
A few minutes later, Mallory's mother snuck up on Ferguson's back and tapped his shoulder. "Hello, Ferguson."
Right after she said that, her ex-husband turned his head and glanced at her. "Hey, Clarissa! You're here!"
Sure enough, the blonde-headed woman was none other than Clarissa. She was the one who discovered Riley Kendall's call for help when she was ten years old and promised to search all her life for him. She became an author when she grew up, which wasn't surprising, and her career brought her to Greenville, South Carolina. She was unaware, though, that the man she was looking for lived there, too. Fate brought them together.
Ferguson called across the stage to Mallory. "Mallory, your mother's here!"
She beamed and yelled, "Mommy!" Immediately, she put her game on hold and hurried to Clarissa, who held her arms out. The little girl wasted no time and leaped into them.
While the two embraced, Ferguson hopped off the stage and watched them with a smile.
When Mallory took her head off her mother's shoulder, she peered into her blue eyes and joyfully explained, "Mommy, Silvermist and I were just practicing our Water Fairy magic!"
"Really?" Clarissa asked. "Are there any cool, new spells you want to share with me?"
Mallory quickly nodded. "Quite a few!" She and Clarissa closed their eyes and bumped noses. Mallory started to play with her mother's earrings.
Clarissa and Ferguson became involved in a conversation.
Mallory examined her surroundings and looked up to the gorgeous, blue sky, where flocks of birds flew south. She checked out a group of children playing on one of the park's grassy hills. Smiling, the young girl glanced over her shoulder to see what was behind her. Who she saw sitting on another hill changed her life forever. It was Riley Kendall.
He sat with his head propped up and was sulking as usual.
Little Mallory took an immediate liking to him. She asked her mother to put her back on the ground.
Clarissa did.
Once her feet hit the ground, Mallory hurried off in Riley's direction, with her doll clutched tightly in her hand. She left her conversing, divorced parents behind.
The young man didn't see the little girl approaching him, because he had buried his head in his knees again.
It didn't take her long to reach him. When she did, she hovered over him like a vulture.
Where Clarissa and Ferguson stood, Clarissa placed her hand on her ex's shoulder and told him, "I want to thank you, Fergus."
"No problem," he said back. "Although, Mallory's told me she's been having some strange dreams lately."
"Really?" Clarissa asked. "Well, I'll hear about them when we get home. Mallory, dear, it's time to go!" However, she didn't see Mallory anywhere when she shifted her body. "Mallory? Where did she run off to this time?"
Ferguson soon tapped her shoulder.
Feeling him, Clarissa glanced into his face.
Her ex lifted his hand and pointed behind her.
Clarissa turned around. She gasped, for she saw her daughter hovering over the stranger sitting on the hill. "Oh no!" The young woman frightfully gripped either side of her head. "Mallory!" She had to warn her about strangers. Clarissa hurried forward, in the direction of Mallory.
Ferguson waited for her.
Mallory didn't see her mother coming toward her. Even if she did, she paid her no attention, because she was currently more interested in Riley. With her free hand, she tapped his shoulder and held her hands in front of her.
Riley felt her and slowly lifted his head from his knees. At the sight of the child, his heart skipped a beat. It was a child! A child stood right next to him. Because of his love for children, he didn't ask her to shoo so he could continue to mourn on his knees. This was different. Nobody had ever approached him before. The only time someone did, it was so they could just beat him up again.
Mallory, of course, wasn't going to do that. Instead, she sat down next to the depressed man and poked his cheek. "You look sad."
Riley's face turned red when she said that. He didn't like being noticed by a child.
With a smile on her face, she continued. "For Halloween this year, I was a fairy princess. It was so much fun." A fairy princess, eh? That certainly was normal with little girls her age.
Riley spoke not a word and gloomily shut his eyes. He turned his head to the left and hung it.
His reaction was a bit confusing to Mallory. Putting her Silvermist doll down, she lifted her hand and caught Riley's chin. The little girl turned his head in her direction, and he opened his eyes again. "Are you all right?" she asked, but he didn't answer. "You know what? Why don't we play a little game?"
"Mallory!" Clarissa's voice echoed throughout the entire park.
The sound of it startled Riley. It reminded him of his father's yelling. He quickly glanced in the direction the voice came from.
Knowing she was in trouble, Mallory sank close to the grass and hung her head.
Clarissa took her arm the second she reached her and Riley and frightfully said, "Don't you ever do that!"
"But, Mommy–!"
"Shh!"
The sight of the beautiful, young woman blew Riley's mind. He couldn't help but blush again, and he stared at her.
"I'm sorry about my daughter, sir," Clarissa spoke. "She's a curious one. She has quite the–" However, before she could finish the sentence, her own eyes landed on the man, and she, too, blushed. "Oh."
Off to the side, Mallory put her hands behind her back and smiled at the two.
After a bit, her mother took her arm and glanced at her. "Mallory, your father's waiting for you. Why don't you two practice some water magic together?"
"Okay, Mommy." Little Mallory leaned forward and gave her mother a small kiss on the cheek. She picked up Silvermist and hurried to her father, yelling, "Daddy!"
Clarissa waited until they started playing to talk to Riley. Once they did, she pulled a lock of blonde hair out of her face and chuckled. "Kids. They're always curious. Especially that little one."
Riley could see that. However, it was still extremely painful to see how happy Mallory was around her father. Why did he have to be the only person in the world who never received that kind of love? His insides squeezed together. Clenching his teeth, he grasped his head.
Clarissa lifted her hand. She offered it to the young man for a handshake. "I'm Clarissa. Do you have a name?"
Of course, he did, but Riley did not have the guts to say it out loud. The fear inside him was too great. When he tried to make direct eye contact with Clarissa, he again saw his devil. It roared at the young man and dove for him.
He let out another piercing scream and leaped to his feet, zooming by Clarissa. However, he zoomed by her so fast that she toppled to the ground.
Unfortunately, Fergus saw that. "Hey!" He stopped playing with Mallory and stormed towards Riley, blocking his path. "Keep your bloody hands off my girl!"
His intimidating voice surrounded Riley, causing the fear inside him to jump up another level. He jerked his body in each direction Fergus's voice was strongest and tried to escape his clutches, but it was difficult. The only thing he saw and heard was his abusive father chucking him into the desk.
Fergus continued to yell at him. At one point, he lifted his hands and shoved Riley's chest.
He landed on his elbow and backside in the soft, yet scratchy grass and frightfully peered up at the towering figure over him. Shaking with terror, he crawled back a few feet.
Before Fergus could make another move, Clarissa came to his rescue. "Fergus, stop!" She rushed to her ex-husband, with Mallory glued to her heels behind her, and grabbed his arm. "You're scaring him!"
"Well, he shouldn't have pushed you!"
"I understand, but that's no reason to turn aggressive!"
Glaring, Fergus ripped his arm from Clarissa's grasp. He glared at her. "Ah, this guy is nothing but a punk. All he does is mourn on his knees and push innocent bystanders."
While the two argued, Riley got the heck out of there. He jumped to his feet. His bangs flopped down over his right eye.
Mallory stepped out from behind her mother and watched the interesting, young man.
He rubbed tears from his eyes and took off at a fast walk, back in the direction of the Liberty Bridge.
Mallory kept her eyes glued to him until he vanished from sight. Legs wobbling underneath her, she sank to her knees and picked a four-leaf clover. Why did the little girl suddenly feel like those four leaves symbolized something? Whatever it was, there was definitely something special about the man she met in Falls Park.