Assault With a Deadly Weapon || N.H / 1D

63.

Song recommendation: I can't handle change by Roar
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"Ophelia!" A familiar voice called out to me, but it sounded muffled, as if they were under swampy water.

I raised my eyes from the ground. I was in Portland, where I'd been speaking to their graves for so many years. A misty yellow haze hung above me like someone had draped a sheet over the world. The willows wept, pouring their leaves into the fall air. Everything seemed to be tinted golden, as if I were wearing lemon-coloured lenses over my eyes.

"Philly pop!" Another distant voice said to me. "We've missed you!"

I looked up in confusion and saw a hazy vision of my mother, my father, and my brother Adam. They looked exactly as they did when I'd last seen them: Young.

My mother and father still had their youthful glows that came from parents in their mid thirties. Flushed cheeks, sparkling eyes, healthy smiles, and soft features. They were thirty five when they left me, only ten years older than I was now. They were so much younger than I remembered them being.

Mom's golden hair cascaded down her back, glowing with a softness that made me want to reach out and touch it, like I'd always used to do when I was little. She wore a white dress, one that I didn't recognize. She looked like a goddess.

Adam wore white too.

Looking at him now that I was an adult, I realize that he'd been no more than a child when he left that fateful day. Eighteen years old. He couldn't have even rented a car if he wanted to. His blue eyes were shining down at me. His light brown hair was shaggy, with a slight wave to it. He'd just graduated high school. He had so much to learn about the cruel world. He was so naive.

And Dad. Dad's brown eyes were warm and inviting. His cropped brown hair and bushy beard were styled nicely. He was wearing green. A dark, forest, green. He smiled at me, making my heart warm.

"Hey kiddo."

"What's going on?" I spoke, my words blurring before I could process them. "Where am I?"

"You're home." Mom assured me, projecting comfort through her words, soft spoken like cotton.

"Home?" I frowned. My face felt different, like I couldn't quite control my expressions. I meant to frown, but I'm not sure if it came across as such. "What do you mean home?"

"Come." Dad held his hand out to me. "Walk with us Ophelia."

I reluctantly held out my hand. I grabbed onto Dad's warm hands and immediately felt energy flow through me. I don't know what kind of magic it was, but I felt it. He gripped onto me, and pulled me up.

My bones ached.

I'd never felt this way in my life. I let out a cry of pain when Dad pulled me upwards.

"Sorry dear." He bent down to my height, and grabbed both of my forearms. He lifted me to my feet, but I still felt shaky, like I would fall right on my ass if I leaned just slightly too far back. It felt like gravity was stronger on my body, pulling down my skin, my bones, my muscles. I felt like a sack of organs in dull, yet immense pain.

"Dad..." I could feel the panic creeping up in my voice, threatening to crack. "Why am I-"

"You're okay. Everything is okay. We're together." Mom assured me.

I looked over to Dad. He had a smile on his face, but something was off. Behind his eyes. Something was wrong with me.

I tried to lift my hand to see my skin, but there was nothing there. My hand wouldn't appear in front of me.