The Sky is Always Gray

A slate gray sky with the promise of havoc greeted me at the door. The gravel beneath my feet crunched and gave way for me. Even the steps seemed to groan a little bit less as they welcomed me home after nearly a decade. My hands swept over moss covered railings and foot after foot I arrived. 

The door saluted me as if I was a veteran returning from war. It was a mockery of my entire life. 

Red paint peeled in curls from the wood. Someone had stolen the knocker at some point. I reached for the knob and twisted it. Unlocked. It was never locked. 

The urge to turn back gnawed at my mind and clawed at the bones beneath my skin. My thoughts echoed, bad, bad, bad, and, danger, danger, danger, and then, home.

I walked down the hall and burrowed closer into my jacket and scarf. Old family photos were knocked over, smashed, dilapidated. I picked up one off the floor. It was turned over. 

My thoughts cascaded around my ears with the thrumming of my heart when I saw the picture. 

Marcia, my mother, with her hard mouth and tangled pepper curls, and Sonya, a little two year old girl with hair like honey and a smile like the sun. My mother held the child in her lap and for once she held a look of joy on her face. 

My toes curled in my boots as I squeezed my eyes shut and dropped it to the floor. My shrink told me coming back would help. How could this help?

My legs moved me forward of their own accord. My mind was in a dream state; simply floating through old memories. The living room was on the right of the hallway. I peered inside and saw baby toys still littered across the rug. My chest squeezed in anguish until I could hardly tell if my heart was still beating. 

I dropped to my knees before the stacks of blocks and dolls. My fingers curled around a little dog stuffed animal. Her name was Meatball, I remembered. Sunny- Sonya, she loved this dog. It went everywhere with her, to sleep, to the store, to dinner. A surrealistic feeling settled around me in a fog. Sunny held this in her arms, she gave it kisses and gave it tea to drink. Through the tips of my fingers to the phantom ones of hers I was connected. The only semblance of touch I had left of her. 

A soft crescendo of noise drew me away from my fit of melancholy. It started as a whisper, I strained to hear. The syllables drew together when it rose a bit louder, "Momma." I swear I heard it. Then again. I shit to my feet with Meatball clutched tightly to my chest. It was the Devil. He was punishing me. Hadn't I been punished enough. 

"Go away," I cried weakly. 

"Momma!" A squeal of delight jarred my mind and I whirled around in complete disbelief. I knew what I'd heard that time. 

"S-" my voice was hoarse, "Sonya?"

The moment I said her name I knew how stupid I was. Sonya was gone. She wasn't coming back. 

Even though I knew it was impossible, I searched. There were no dimples on a smiling face. There were no fists filled with peas. There was no Sonya. 

It came again- this time from down the hall- "Momma!"

I flew down the corridor and looked everywhere for her. Disappointment began to settle deep in the pit of my stomach when I caught a flash of something and turned to it. Sonya's jubilant giggle reached my ears and I began to walk up the rickety old stair case. They groaned in protest at my weight and sagged beneath my feet. I couldn't care less.

"Where-ere is Sunny?" She cried gleefully. Sonya loved hide and seek. It had to be her. I raced up those steps, running like my life depended on it. Her little pigtails whipped around a corner.

"Sonya! Sunny," I sobbed, "baby, come back here!"

She laughed again and then everything went silent. I turned and looked and looked and- the door. 

My heart dropped despite my resolve to find the toddler. It was a normal looking door. White and thin, a brass door knob. I would never go back in that room. Promises were one thing I never broke to myself and I promised I'd never go into that room. Then again, I also promised I'd never step foot in this house again, but here I was. 

Then she- my poor baby- oh, she was wailing. She was screaming and I had to save my little Sunny. I shoved into the room and flew to the porcelain tub. My hands scratched against the surface. Where was-

I sat back on my heels and threw myself away.

It wasn't real. The wailing had stopped and I was left panting on the floor like a mad woman; scratching at a bathtub and looking for someone who had been gone for a decade. 

Bile rose up in my throat. I leaned over the tub in a fit of nausea and emptied the contents of my stomach into the container. With the vomit came tears and I sobbed my heart out over the bathtub. If only I could go back in time. If I could've been there for her then she would still be in my life. Holding my hand and kissing me on the cheek. Throwing tantrums and tormenting bugs.

My lips whimpered her name, my sweet baby girl Sonya. My sweet little Sunny. It was time to put the house to rest, and with it, the horrible memories of her. 

When I left that house for the second time I knew it would be my last. My resolve was strong in that I knew this was the only way to free myself from the shackles that I'd been living in. 

Two and a half months later I was standing behind a line of tape and watching machines barrel into the house. A few other people from town had gathered to watch it go down. They didn't recognize me. 

My shrink, she'd advised against tearing the blasphemous thing down. I quit therapy after that. She didn't know what she was talking about. That house was evil. 

She said I was running away but I knew not to listen. I knew that I wasn't running away from anything.

I was simply destroying it.