Wet Eyes - Callie Catherine Brice (i love reading books .txt) 📗

12:46a.m.
I haven’t seen the soul in five days. It’s all I can think about. I will replay the scene in my mind over and over again. I want to believe that the soul is Charlie. She was at my house that night to insure me that she was okay. Maybe from heaven, or maybe she was reincarnated into something. Some kind of plant or animal. Well, who knows? Everyone has different beliefs. I am not sure what Charlie’s were, but if she is happy, I am happy.
1:40a.m.
I am thinking about the possible ways someone can come back to this world after dying. I feel crazy thinking of this. This is exactly why I haven’t told anyone what I saw. It might have been an illusion because I was so tired. Or maybe a dream I am not waking up from.
Either way, if this is real or not, I felt the need to figure it out. To find out the truth of what happened.
2:17a.m.
There is one thing I have not been pondering. The wolf that was sitting next to the soul. Why was it with her? If that was Charlie’s soul, who was the wolf?
I wake up to my alarm at 6a.m. Hit snooze three times until I shut it off, but I still go back to sleep for 20 more minutes.
I hate alarms. All they do is wake you up. Alarms come in handy and all, but why would someone want to be woken up? Even though, that’s what they are there for.
At 7:10a.m. I take a shower. It is nice. The hot water hitting my bare skin can put me right back to sleep.
It’s always refreshing to take a shower. I take my time in the shower by standing there doing nothing and thinking about every little detail in life.
I let the water hit the back of my neck. I tilt my head back and close my eyes. I can feel the water run down the side of my face and hit my shoulders. Then make its way down my back. Sometimes the water splits and runs down my chest. I stand there picturing myself in the rain. Although, rain isn’t this warm. I picture myself standing in grass while the rain hits me. Charlie is there. Not her soul; but her body is sitting in the rain. Charlie has no emotion on her face. She is not sad or happy. She’s just sitting not hunched over or looking down. Quietly sitting up straight with her legs crossed and hands in her lap. She is looking forward, but not at me. I am a few feet in front of her inspecting every bit of her. I notice she has no soul and is not alive. Gone; only her body remained.
I open my eyes slowly. I do not want to, but I have to.
“Ray?”
“Hmm?” My brother is probably screaming inside because I am in the shower and he has work today.
“Will you try to save some hot water?” He obviously just woke up.
“Sure.” I hear the door close. I am not close to my brother.
I actually don’t like him at all. I am not going to lie. He is handsome but has a heart of steel.
I am staring at the shampoo, not wanting to move. So, I force myself too. I wash my hair slowly wishing I am still in bed.
I step out of the shower and dry myself off. I walk to my room with one towel around my waist and one in my hand to dry my hair with. I quickly put on my boxers and pants then head to the bathroom once again.
I always have a problem with brushing my teeth. It’s not that I don’t brush my teeth. I think it’s gross when someone doesn’t brush. I can always tell when someone talks to me and all I can think of is the smell of their breath. It’s not just bad breath from food. If someone doesn’t brush their teeth, they have a certain smell to them. It’s the same smell for everyone. I would never talk in front of a person if I didn’t brush my teeth that morning.
The problem I have is starting to brush my teeth. It’s difficult for me to push a wet tooth brush with a strong minty taste into a mouth that’s been closed and resting all night, but I force myself to.
As I am brushing my teeth, my brother barges in with no clothes on. Come on, I know he is my brother but why would I want to see him naked? As he gets in the shower I scan him in the mirror comparing us. My brother has short dark hair, with a side part that makes his hair wipe over his eyes. You can never really see his eyes, I think they are blue. Yeah… he is buff. Of course he is. He works out all of his anger. He usually makes me come with him to the gym so he won’t be alone. I understand that, and I’m happy he makes me go or I would be completely out of shape. My brother dresses more jockish, like jeans and tee-shirt. I dress like a cow-boy. I know, it’s weird, but I love the style. My hair goes with it too. I have long blonde hair that barley passes my ears. My brother is 6 foot 1… and I’m 5’9. I’m not skinny, but not fat; I just have a lot of meat on my bones.
Anyway, my sister used to do that all the time. Well, not completely naked, but she would walk around with only a bra and underwear on. Its okay for a guy to go without a shirt, but for a girl to go with just a bra is weird to most people. I would hate wearing a bra. It’s just another piece of clothing. Girls always complain about it, too.
My brother, sister, and I all shared the downstairs area, there were three rooms, one bathroom, and a hall way connecting it all.
Now it’s just my brother and me. My sister died four years ago. I wasn’t that close to her, but my brother was her best friend. They were twins. Most twins are close, but they were inseparable.
My brother had changed a lot since she died. He dropped out of school a month after she left. I do feel bad for him. I never knew what it was like to lose someone so close until Charlie died last year. My sister didn’t kill herself. She didn’t want to die. That’s the saddest part; she had her entire future planned. I’m not sure what she was going to do, but I do know that she didn’t deserve to pass away.
I hear my brother crying every once in a while. I think he feels like it was his fault. My sister was born with Leukemia. He wasn’t. He blames himself for not being the one that had it. The thing about twins is that they are born at the same time, but will never die at the same time. I don’t think that my brother understands that death happens; everyone and everything dies.
That’s why it’s so scary isn’t it? Death happens and there is no way you can run away from it.
I slip a shirt on and walk upstairs. My mother is putting the dishes up from last night’s wash.
“Good morning.” She says.
“Hey Momma.” I get some yogurt and bottled water from the fridge.
“How did you sleep?” My mother asks me this every morning. My answer never changes.
“Good.” I walk across the kitchen and got a plastic spoon out of a drawer.
“Are you ready?” My mother asks.
“Yeah. Just let me put this in my bag.” By the time I had my beverage and yogurt in my backpack my mother was ready to go and waiting for me by the door.
First I said bye to my dog, then I left. I walk to the car slowly and wait for my mother to unlock the door. She clicks the automatic car opener to let me in. I adjust my bag to where it can be on the floor of the vehicle without getting in the way of my feet.
I am scared to look at the tree’s we are passing. For some reason, I don’t want to see the soul again. I have mixed feelings.
I think about that night every second, but I am scared. It’s not that I am scared of ghosts and spirits or anything related. I never even believed in anything like that since that night. I could be insane, that’s always a possibility.
I am not scared of the fact that witchcraft might be true, but I am frightened of getting hurt. How could I get hurt by a dead friend? I think about this for a minute.
Now, I am not worried about getting physically hurt. I’m terrified of getting emotionally hurt. I’ve been hurt too many times in the past to deal with it again.
There are people out there that say they don’t let themselves get hurt. Everyone gets hurt. The people that say they don’t just don’t want to admit it. They keep the pain in the back of their mind and try to see the good in life. Sure, they are happy with what they have, but the pain is always there. Everyone and everything gets hurt.
I try not to let myself get hurt. It never works. I also try to move on and forget. That never works either.
There is a huge snowball in my heart. When I get hurt more pain is added and the ball grows larger. I still feel the pain from things that have happened in the past. Things from years ago. The pain has always been there, and still is.
I’m scared of it. So scared. It’s that feeling everyone gets while they are sitting in the movie theater watching a horror movie. They want to leave but cannot because they actually want to see what happens. It’s that feeling times ten. I can’t even sleep the fear is so bad.
The snow build up in my heart has made me decide to completely ignore what I saw. I wanted to figure it out, but what’s the point? No one would believe me anyway. No one could help me with it.
“Mom, are you picking me up at lunch?” I already knew the answer to this.
“I am. I’ll be there at 11:30.”
Not that I mind my momma going with me, but its having my own mother come to a doctor’s appointment with me is kind of weird. I mean she’s sitting there watching the doctor check me.
I would make her leave if the doctor was checking something awkward. I’d