This is just an updated and better version of the story. It got me an A, so i thought i'd upload the final story. This doesnt have any ties to any of my other stories, so just keep that in mind.

oh, and there is a memory part right in the begining that i would have liked to seperate better with an extra space, but the editing thing on here wouldnt let me. So just know when she talks about the last time she saw her mother alive (witch is right in the begining) that is a memory. and that memory ends when Jonathon talks to her. but I think you guys could figure that out.

Time Continues On

I watched helplessly as they laid my mother into the frozen earth. There was a man talking, probably her boyfriend, but I couldn’t hear him. My body was at my mother’s funeral, but my mind was not. All I could think about was the last time I saw her alive.

It was evening. She was getting ready for her date that was in an hour. I watched as she applied her lipstick and ran a comb through her golden-blonde hair. I always wished my hair was her color, instead of a dark-chocolate brown, like Jonathon’s. I remember trying to convince her to let me stay at home.

“Please,” I whined, “I promise I wont do anything but watch T.V.”

“No,” she replied as she added blush to her cheeks. “I don’t want you staying home alone.”

“But why not?” I argued, my temper rising. “I’m seventeen, and old enough to spend one night by myself.”

“I don’t care how old you are,” she gave me an irritated glance, “you’re not staying home alone. And that’s final.”

“But why can’t I just-”

“No,” she said forcefully. “You’re coming with me. Now stop arguing, and get dressed, we’re going to be late.”

“Ugh! I’m never talking to you again!” I yelled as I stomped out of the bathroom and into my own room, slamming the door behind me.

Eventually I walked down the stairs, and climbed into the car, giving her a frosty glare.

“Ariana, would you like to say something?” Jonathon, my ‘father’, asked me. I once again focused on the red roses sprayed across the carved coffin, and unconsciously backed up a step.

Everyone at the funeral waited patiently for me to answer. No doubt waiting for sentiments from the daughter who was left behind. I had no intention of speaking in front of a large crowd though, and I doubted I would find my voice.

“No,” I mumbled softly.

“I’m sorry, what did you say honey?” He put his arm around me, drawing me closer to him. He was so tall my head was even with his chest.

“Please don’t,” I shrugged out of his embrace. “I don’t want to say anything.”

I stared around at all the women, men, and children. They all wore looks of pity. Even the youngest, eight-year-old Jamie, our neighbor’s daughter. It made me sick. I just wanted to go. I wanted to get out of there, away from all the eyes that screamed condolences.

“Honey,” Jonathon started to rub my back in an effort to make me feel better, though it only succeeded in irritating me further. “Why don’t you say something? I’m sure Caroline would love it if you said something.”

“Stop calling me ‘honey’,” I growled. “And I’m not saying anything. She’s dead. She isn’t going to care one way or another if I say anything.” I half yelled, not realizing my voice was so loud.

Tears started to fill my eyes and spill down my cheeks. It was over. My carefully constructed expression had faltered. Everyone just continued to stare at me, their looks radiating their pity. Just the thought of them all thinking I was weak enough to not be able to get through the death of my mother was infuriating. I willed my tears to stop, but they took no notice. I started to feel dizzy from the weight of their stares.

“I’m sorry, Hon-” I cut him off as he started to rub my back again.

“Stop calling me Honey! I barely consider you to be my father, Jonathon!” I saw pain flicker across his face, but I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t keep it in any longer. Everything just erupted inside of me and spilled out. I didn’t care that everyone was watching me and thinking that I was going into hysterics. “Stop trying to make me feel better! Stop trying to play the role of ‘parent’!”

“Ariana, I-” He tried to pull me into a hug but I pushed him away.

“No, don’t touch me,” I whispered just barely audible, as I wiped the tears away from my face.

He tried to grab my arm as I silently walked away from him, and came to a stop at the edge of the funeral. I could feel all of their eyes boring into me as I stared at the dead grass. There was an apple core a few feet in front of me that must have been discarded at least a day before. The normally juicy, yellowish-white, inside was slowly turning a moldy brown, as it lay forgotten on the ground. I tried to focus all of my attention on the rotting apple core for the duration of the funeral. I thought that if I’d diverted my attention to something else, I could make the pain hurt less. But that wasn’t the case. No matter how hard I focused on that apple core, I kept thinking of her, and each thought brought with it a new wave of tears that I tried valiantly to suppress. My stomach muscles started to protest in agony from how much I was constricting them to keep my tears down.

Suddenly I was aware of the freezing rain that was seeping into my bones, saturating my black dress in the process. My hair was drenched and clung to my face and shoulders. It must have been raining for a while, and I just didn’t bother to notice. I lifted my hand up to feel the drops splash and cascade down my pale arm. I took no notice of the numbingly cold feeling that spread from my fingertips all the way down to my toes. It was forecasted to be in the low-to-mid fifties that day, and so I only wore a short sleeved black dress. I never considered it might rain.

I blinked back more tears as I thought of how my mother and I used to dance around in the summer rain when I was little. Her golden-blonde hair would fly wildly about her face, as she turned in circle after circle, her arms outstretched. Her warm brown eyes, so much like my own, were always so carefree whenever we would dance in the humid rain.

I looked back at the funeral where everyone had their black umbrellas up, to ward off the rain. A few of them still watched me. Why did it matter to them how I acted at my own mother’s funeral?

It didn’t. In a matter of months they’d forget all about the funeral. They will have continued on with their lives as though nothing had ever happened. Maybe a few will think of her, but not for more than a year I’m willing to bet.

As for me, I will be cursed with the memory of that day for the rest of my life. It’s more than a seventeen year old should have to deal with. We’re supposed to be worrying about college, and if the guy that we like, likes us back, and what we’re going to wear to prom, not this. Never this.

I must have fallen asleep at the gathering after the funeral, because when I woke up, Jonathon was driving back to my house. I was surprised I didn’t get yelled at for making such a scene, but maybe he thought I was coping in my own way. Whatever the reason, I was glad. I was in no mood to converse with anyone. As soon as we arrived at the house there was no doubt that everyone would start glancing at me sideways. They wouldn’t want to come to me and say “sorry,” so they’d just stare at me out of the corners of their eyes and attempt to convey their sympathy.

I knew we were almost back to the house; the skyline of Chicago was coming back into view. I had forgotten that it only takes an hour to come back home from Gurnee. I never did like the odd town. It just wasn’t very exciting, or interesting for that matter. Chicago always had something going on. You just had to learn how to find it.

“We’re here,” Jonathon announced, as he pulled his car to the side of the street, in front of the house.

“I already have everything packed and ready to go,” I told him, as I stared out of the tinted black window at the house that I lived in for the past seventeen years.

I doubted that I’d miss it much. The only thing I’d miss would be the glow of the lights, and all the sights and sounds of the city.

“Well let’s go in and get your things then,” Jonathon said as he got out of the car.

I should really stop spacing out; people are going to start thinking I’m mentally ill, I decided.

Opening the door, I stepped out on to our concrete sidewalk. This is it. This is the last time I will ever step foot into this house again.

I stood there for a moment, taking in all the small details. We had set two Geraniums out in front of our door in the beginning of the summer, but now they were dead from the cold. I suppose I should have brought them into the house before it snowed. But I never really cared for the flowers anyway. They were my mother’s. Everything, pertaining to nature, was dead, or dying. The grass was a dried-brown color, and our two elm trees were battling the Dutch Elm disease, and failing miserably. Of course it was the end of December, and normally freezing cold. We were only hit with snow at the end of November; though most of it melted away because of the unnaturally warm weather we had experienced all week.

I realized I had been standing still for more than five minutes, and some of the neighbors were giving me quick glances as they hurried into, or out of, their houses. I walked into the house and up our stairs to my bedroom, blinking away my tears as I thought of all the childhood memories I’d be leaving behind.

It’s only a house, I reminded myself sternly.

“What took you so long?” Jonathon asked with a hint of worry. Maybe he thought I had a breakdown outside or something. Who knows. Who cares.

“I was talking to Ms. Johnston, the neighbor,” I lied. The more normal he thought I was, the better. I really didn’t want him checking in on me all the time, or worse, sending me to a therapist.

“Well all right,” he seemed to be thinking it over. “Let’s get your bags and everything into the car.” I got the feeling he didn’t want to spend any extra time here. He was oddly quiet, and kept fidgeting with the button on his jacket.

I walked over to my bed and picked up my giant suitcase with all of my clothing in it. I really only had four suitcases. One for clothing, one smaller one for shoes, one enormous one for all of my books and movies, and then one large one for all the odds and ends that I wanted-mainly jewelry, stuffed animals, games, my laptop, computer games, cell phone accessories, and some other things. My pillow and blankets I left out for the three and a half hour drive up to Hilbert.

I was most definitely not looking forward to going up to middle-of-nowhere Hilbert, Wisconsin. It was a tiny town where everyone knew everyone else. I doubt it even has a movie theatre, I thought bitterly.

“Come on now Ariana,” Jonathon started walking out of the room with the suitcases of shoes, and books. “We have to leave soon.”

“Mhm,” I replied as I struggled out the door and down the stairs to the front landing. It took a little effort, but I got my suitcase down the stairs without tripping, and out the front door. Jonathon took it from there, and I went back into the house to retrieve the last suitcase and pick up my pillow and blankets.

“Good-bye house,” I glanced around at the inside one last time, then locked the door and closed it.

Jonathon was planning on selling it furnished since he didn’t want to throw any of the furniture away. I thought he was having some sentimental issues. He didn’t even want me to keep my bedroom set. He said he had bought me a new one. Sometimes I wondered if he was still in love with her, even after all that had happened between them. Walking down the sidewalk, I realized that this would probably be the last time I would be in Chicago.

“That’s everything,” I stated, as I relinquished the suitcase to Jonathon and climbed into the passenger seat with my blankets and pillow.

Hilbert, here I come, I thought as Jonathon revved the engine and left the city behind us. My eyes started to droop as I watched the skyline fade away into the clouds.

“Mom please stop speeding,” I said as we raced down the interstate to meet her boyfriend.

The headlights of the cars across the median were zooming past us, as she pushed the speedometer up to eighty-five. It was eight at night, and she was supposed to have met her boyfriend at seven forty-five.

“I’m not going any faster than those two cars next us,” she commented, glancing at me.

“That’s because they’re racing each other,” I remarked, not bothering to keep the acid out of my voice, as I looked at the Mustang and Cadillac that were neck in neck with each other. She knew how I hated it when she sped, especially when the ground was wet from rain. I always worried about accidents.

“Oh stop being such a spoil-sport,” she frowned at me. “You can have some fun once in a while, you know, let your hair down.”

“Yea sure,” I responded dryly.

I watched as the Mustang started to pass the Cadillac. He was quickly approaching a Hummer that was in his lane, and would have to brake soon. I waited to see his red tail lights burst on, only to realize he cut right in front of us, narrowly missing our front bumper.

“What the hell!” My mother cursed next to me. “Learn how to drive!”

“I’m really sure he can hear you,” I told her sarcastically, though I was secretly screaming the same thing inside my mind.

“You don’t just cut in front of someone!” she glared at me.

“Well no, but it isn’t-”

I lurched forward in my seat, my seatbelt cutting into my neck, as my mother slammed on her brakes.

“Shit,” I heard her swear next to me.

In the second that she had glared at me, the Mustang in front of us dropped its speed dramatically. We went catapulting straight into it.

“Mom,” I moaned after I pushed my deployed airbag out of my face.

I had blood running down my neck, and arms. It looked like some of the glass had cut my arms open, but I couldn’t feel the pain.

“Mom,” I mumbled again, looking at the seat next to me.

It was empty.

My mind automatically started to run through possible scenarios. Each one worse than the last. I willed them to go away, but the kept sneaking back in. My stomach was starting to turn with unease as images of her flashed through my mind.

I carefully undid my seatbelt and managed to open up the mangled door, falling out onto the asphalt. I crawled to where the front of the car would be, only to find that the ‘hood’ was in the Mustang’s back seat. I couldn’t see the driver. I didn’t want to see the driver.

Carefully, I tried to stand up, wincing as my left foot touched the glass-strewn road.

I gritted my teeth and started to hobble in front of the Mustang, purposely diverting my gaze from the driver’s seat.

“Mom?” I called out, panic rising.

Just as I made it around the Mustang, I saw an arm lying motionless sticking out of the space underneath both cars. I stopped in my tracks, my heart hammering in fear.

I tentatively limped closer to the arm.

“Mom?” I almost squeaked out, as I came to where the motionless, bloody arm lay.

I slowly got onto my hands and knees and tried to pull her out from beneath the two cars. I tugged as hard as I could, tears streaming down my cheeks. With one final lurch, I managed to retrieve her mangled body. I couldn’t breath. I just stared down at her in horror. I could taste bile rising up my throat, as my stomach started to contract. I forced myself to swallow it back down.

“Mom,” I fell back on my legs, and pulled her body into my lap. Her blood was flowing onto my jeans and t-shirt. “Mom…mommy…”

Her neck was twisted at an unnatural angle, and her other arm was bent completely backwards from the elbow. A jagged rib had protruded out from beneath her shirt and blood was seeping through her pants, completely saturating her clothing, which was almost shredded, showing deep gouges in her body from the concrete, shards of glass, and metal fragments from the undersides of the cars. There was a puddle of blood beneath her, and her face was a bloodied mass, but recognizable.

I tried as hard as I could to look away, but I just couldn’t. My stomach started convulsing as I fought to keep the bile down. It was a futile effort though. I quickly leaned over to the side, as vomit spilled from my mouth. It felt as if was puking out my insides. I could see chunks of unknown substance stick to my hair as it fell to the ground. After a few more moments I gained control, and wiped my mouth off on my shirt.

“Mom-mommy-please, please wake up!” I cried into her blood-caked hair.

By now there were police, fireman, and paramedics, but I took no notice of them. I couldn’t hear a thing but my own shallow breathing. The flashing lights played at the distant edges of my vision. I was in my own terrible, grotesque world.

“Mom!” I screamed again, hugging her into my chest. “Mom, please!”

I felt someone pick me up, as another person carefully took my mothers body out of my lap. I kicked out wildly, trying to force them to drop me, so I could run back to my mother. I couldn’t be separated from her, I needed to make sure she was going to be alright. I needed to be there when she woke up. She would be lonely and scared by herself, so I needed to comfort her. I kept on lying to myself, even though in the back of my mind I knew what the real truth was, and that I was just prolonging the inevitable.

“Please, stop fighting,” a male voice broke the sound bubble that had previously engulfed me.

Suddenly I could hear everything-people shouting directions, sirens going off, helicopters above, and my own uncontrollable sobbing.

I fought harder to escape from my captor’s grasp.

“Let me go!” I shrieked. “I have to get back to my mom! She needs me!”

“No, I’m sorry, but you have to come with us,” he grunted as tried to restrain me.

“Let me go!” I screamed over and over, shrilly.

“What?” I heard a voice ask. “Ariana wake up, it’s only a nightmare.”

I felt someone’s hand stroke my face, comforting me instantly.

“Ariana, are you all right?” Jonathon asked.

I opened my eyes groggily.

“Oh,” I was taken aback for a moment. “Oh, sorry. It was just…sorry.”

I didn’t want to tell him I had another nightmare from the accident. I didn’t want him to worry about me.

“That’s alright, we’re here now,” he rubbed my shoulder, as he started me with caring blue eyes. I didn’t bother to push his hand off. Although I would never admit it to him, at least not anytime soon, I was glad he was trying to comfort me. It helped calm my nerves. “Why don’t you sit up and take a look.”

I moved my pillow away from the window and straightened up.

I let out a relieved sigh. His house didn’t look too bad. It appeared to be two stories, and had a porch that wrapped around the front. But what caught my attention wasn’t the nice white siding, or the snow covered ground, or even the older-looking green Bronco in the driveway. No, it wasn’t any of that. What caught my attention was the forest that was to the left of the house. There was a path that weaved through the trees, creating an almost enchanted like feeling. It reminded me of the bedtime stories my mother used to tell me when I was younger. She would always fill them with magical creatures and faeries, and they always took place in the beautiful forests of some far away land. Seeing the forest outside my car window, reminded me that even though my mother had passed on, she would always be alive within me. I quickly realized that the forest would make for a perfect sanctuary that I could escape to.

Maybe this could work after all, I thought.