Chase's Point of View

A loud crash of thunder pulls me out of sleep for the third time since twelve this morning. Just as I did the other three times, I glance up at the clock on my dresser in front of me. Twenty-eight minutes past three in the morning. Could it really be? I check the time on my iPhone, which confirms that it has been only three hours since the first time I checked. I feel wide awake now, unlike the other two times I was startled awake by the storm outside my window. But perhaps the blame doesn't fully belong to the storm on the outside.

The deep, throaty, roaring thunder brings back many memories of teasing laughter. The sky seems to be laughing at me for one reason or another. The lightning somehow makes me feel exposed as it brightens my entire room. My inner battles, exposed. My brokenness, exposed. Everything, exposed. It feels as if a curtain has been pulled back, revealing everything. Revealing my past... revealing what it has done to me. What it still does to me, even now.

Strangely, I feel startled by this imaginary exposure, and it takes a moment for me to understand why. It's because I've become accustomed to the darkness I was introduced to at such a young age. It's tried to pull me in, but has been unsuccessful, and all my thanks belongs to the loving family I'm a part of now. What it has managed to do, however, is surround me, like these four walls of my room. The door is closed; there is no way of escape for me. Wherever I turn, it is there. Unlike the God I occasionally still find myself praying to.

I find the darkness of my room comforting; the blinding flashes of light seem to only serve as a reminder of that which I can never be full member of.

My past seems to follow me everywhere I go. Many of my dreams are fresh reminders of what I try to forget, of what I try so desperately to leave behind. All of my attempts at freeing myself from the past have failed. I've tried everything, and I've run out of options.

This thought suddenly reminds me of an email I sent not too long ago, an email containing a lifelong question I've had. The type of question that I can't imagine has an answer. Not a truthful one, at least. When I open the email app, the first thing I see is a reply from Pastor David Richardson. The subject reads, "Re: Why am I different?"

I'm just about to open it when yet another earsplitting crash sounds. I decide to first check on my younger siblings, as I know at least Elena and Dylan sometimes have difficulty sleeping through storms. Two years ago, Dylan's parents died in an accident during a storm much like this one. Even the softest sound of thunder reminds him and is understandably enough to bring tears to his eyes.

I set my phone down on the nightstand beside my bed, the latter of which I slide off of after gathering enough energy to do so. I feel my body relaxing again; the white noise of the rain is soothing to me. The interrupting thunder, however, has a polar opposite effect. I'm startled by the next clap and am grateful I'm alone.

I attempt to be as noiseless as possible as I walk down the long hallway, all the while listening for signs of anyone awake. But the house is dead silent. The silence is almost eerie; fear creeps in slowly, bringing sadness along with it. Both are uninvited guests, yet they have had territory claimed inside me for ages. I am laughably defenseless against them.

My mind races back to the day before...

My parents — my birth parents — were having an argument... the first one I can remember. My father always had one-sided "conversations" because my mother hardly ever participated. It was rare when she answered him. But that one day, the day I will never forget, she did. The next day is when my father, her husband, decided that "she had too much of a mouth on her" and therefore had every right to do what he did.

I decide to check the living room first, as I know that when Dylan can't sleep he occasionally goes there to watch television. He always puts it on mute, of course, so as not to wake anyone who would be likely to wake me.

The television is, in fact, on when I reach it. Dylan, however, is asleep, and he's not the only one snoring in this room. Sarah and Abigail, who lie asleep on separate sofas, are as well. Theirs is a softer snore. Dylan hardly ever sounds like this, so I've learned to recognize when he's congested and has been having foods that he shouldn't. I make a mental note to ask him about it in the morning.

Both girls are without blankets or anything at all to cover them while they sleep. I'm hardly ever cold, but even I can tell that it's chilly in this house. Upon closer inspection, I see goosebumps on Sarah's arms. Her skin is cold to the touch. Freezing. I imagine Abigail must be more so, considering the fact that she's directly under a vent.

I hurry to the closet in the hallway and pull out two comforters. I'm sure to give Sarah the one she won't let anyone else use, the one that previously belonged to her grandmother. I laugh inside when I notice that the other blanket I randomly chose has Beauty and the Beast all over it in small squares. Each square has a different background. One is the starry night sky, another is a ballroom...

I'm careful to avoid stepping on Dylan on my way to the girls. The temperature of the living room seems to have dropped even lower in the minute that I was away.

Although I know Sarah will most likely unbury her arms at some point while she sleeps, I cover her all the way to her neck. As much as she prefers to sleep with her feet and arms out, I know that this is better for her. The thought of anyone being cold, especially when there's nothing or not much that they can do about it brings back memories I hope to soon forget, but know I never will.

"Sweet dreams, sis."

"Thanks, Chase."

I'm almost startled by this whispered reply. She doesn't say anything else and her eyes remain closed.

Next I cover Abigail, who uncovers her arms right away. Just as I suspected, she is also covered in goosebumps. I tuck her arm under the comforter once again, but she repeats her action. My sigh is not one of frustration with her, but rather with myself. I've realized that her friend, Sierra, was right when she said that I'm no joy to be around. To them, at least. I realize that she was being more truthful than I'd like to be with myself. I know that, all these years, I've been pushing Abigail away. I have only just come to the conclusion that, when it comes to her charm, and although I'm sure it has been unintentional, I am powerless.

I was weak when I made the decision to give up fighting. I was weak when I kissed her. I can't allow anything of the sort to happen again. I can't allow Abigail to feel anything for me — unworthy, ruined, imperfect me. If there is a God, if there ever was a God "holding me in the palm of His hand", He has dropped me. He has dropped me so many times that even my broken pieces have been broken. Some have been lost. No one can fix this; I am unfixable.

I stare at Abigail's beautiful face, trying to resist the urge... But I can't. I reach toward her face and then, the moment she squirms, draw my hand back to my side. I berate myself for the mere thought of touching her until she begins to squirm again. Her moving mouth utters no sound, but her expression and body language tell me everything.

Another nightmare.

"Abby," I whisper. All hesitancy regarding my hands disappears; all that matters is releasing her from the nightmare. Caressing the side of her face, I lower myself to my knees, all the while whispering words into her ear that I hope her mind is able to hear, able to grab onto. I know I'm successful the moment she smiles. "I love you, Abigail."

"You, too, Chase."

It's my turn to smile. Leaning forward, I give her forehead a gentle kiss. "Sweet dreams from now on, all right?"

Abigail's eyes open slowly but not all the way. "Okay. You, too." She smiles again, a quick but genuine smile.

The thought to leave comes to mind, but the thought itself leaves just as quickly. "Abigail?" I decide that it's safer to begin with her name, as I can always think of a question other than the one I was intending to ask.

"Mhm?"

"May I..." Just say it! "May I kiss you?"

"Please," she whispers, but I begin to wonder if she really means it or not. The look of sadness that crosses her face causes me to doubt. But then she pouts. "Chase... Please." But I still hesitate. I know I'll regret it later... but I'll probably regret it if I don't.

My hand returns to her face, which slowly relaxes as I get closer. There's no turning back now... Not from this. I give her one quick kiss, but find myself frowning afterward. Didn't I just tell myself I wouldn't..?

After turning the television off and putting Dylan to bed, I begin to head to my own room. But on the way, a quiet, "Chase?" stops me in my tracks. I'm almost unsure if I truly heard anything at all. The second time my name is said, I know exactly where it's coming from. Elena. "Chase?" she says again.

"Coming, Lena." I peek my head into her room to find that she has been crying. "Aw, no... Did you have another nightmare?" I ask. Elena shakes her head. "Did you fall out of bed?" She shakes her head again. "Did you hurt your arm?" She shakes her head a third time. "What's wrong?"

Before answering, she sniffles, then stretches out her arms as a sign for me to come. "Why did my mommy have to die? Why did Daddy crash? If Kaylie was never born, would Mommy still be here? I... want my mommy back..."

"Elena..."

The moment I take a seat on the edge of her bed, she wraps her arms around me and begins to cry again. I rub her back as I hold her, wishing I had the answer to her every question. She lifts her head from my chest, asking, "Do you miss your parents?"

I hesitate at first, searching for the right words to say. "Of course I do, Elena. I miss them every day. But... God had a different plan for my life. Plus, I never would have met you and everyone else here. You are all my family now, and I wouldn't trade any one of you for the world."

Elena smiles, though tears continue to stream down her face. "I love you, too. Even Kaylie."

I kiss the top of her head. "Would you like me to tell you a story?"

"Yes, please. I like your stories. The happy stories most of all."

"All right. Once upon a time..."

♥ • ❤ • ♥

I search my mind for another song I actually feel like playing. I imagine that anything happy would, at the moment, do more harm than good. Then I remember the song Abigail wrote, the one I snuck away from her a couple of weeks ago. It's beautiful. Amazing, really, and I can tell that she's the daughter of a band member. More specifically, I can tell that she's the daughter of a member of a Christian band. I've seen her father perform with his band at the church Abigail goes to. They are amazing, too. I can see that they truly believe what they're singing.

I place my hands on the piano and begin to play.

"You tiptoe so quietly, just praying to not be seen. Out your room and through the hall. Would they even care at all? One wrong move, you're out the door, just like all those times before. When you feel like no one cares, just remember He is there... And you're not alone, no matter what you've been told, no matter where you go. And you are loved, more than the moon and stars above. His love is enough; His love will help you through.

"Looking in the mirror now, I pray, 'God, can you somehow wipe away the memories? All the scars so they can't see? Endless love I'd never felt. So much pain I have been dealt. All the painful memories sometimes slip into my dreams..." After the chorus is repeated, this time sung from first person, I reach the bridge... my favorite part. "So little boy in me, open your eyes and see that His words are true. He will be with you. He will be with you through every storm. When you're feeling cold, let His love make you warm." Another two runs through the chorus and the song is over. I'm tempted to play it again, but the sound of the door opening stops me. Perhaps Elena woke up again. But I'm wrong.

It's Abigail.

I lower the fallboard over the keys as I say quietly, "Um, hey."

"Hey," she replies. "That was beautiful, Chase." I wait for her to mention the fact that it's her song, but she doesn't.

"I'm... sorry I... kissed you... earlier..." My gaze drops to the floor in front of her feet. "I shouldn't have... I'm sorry."

"I'm not... I... Well, to be honest, I don't understand why... why we can't..."

"Abigail..." Sighing, I cross my arms on the piano, which I lean against. This has to be hurting me more. "My whole life has been a storm, Abigail... Not something you'd want to get caught up in. I can't... I can't let you... The last thing I want to do is hurt you."

She nods and, for the second time since Germany, I see tears in her eyes. "Psalm 107:29... 'He stilled the storm to a whisper; the waves of the sea were hushed.' I'll respect your decision, whatever it may be, but what matters most to me... Chase... Jesus can still your storm. You have to let Him, though. He loves you, and He desires to help you through your storms. Listen, and you'll hear His voice. Listen and be comforted by it. It may not be tomorrow that the sky clears up for you, but you shouldn't allow the clouds to discourage you. Never give up. He'll never give up on you." Her last words to me before she turns and leaves are, "Remember: the sky never stays grey forever."

I'm left pondering her words and am unable to concentrate on anything else. Eventually I give up and decide to head to bed. But even there, they repeat in my mind over and over. Especially the verse and her last sentence...

"'He stilled the storm to a whisper; the waves of the sea were hushed...' Remember: the sky never stays grey forever."

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Mini-Note: Hey guys! I can't believe the book is actually done! But the story's not over. ;) I'll begin posting "Still the Storm" as soon as possible. I can't stay away from Chase, Abigail, and the rest of the crew for long!

Again, if you would like to leave a review on Amazon, Goodreads (it's available to view and review on Goodreads already), etc., just let me know and I'll give you the links. :) I'd appreciate your honest opinions so much!

Thank you all for reading! I hope you enjoyed Book One! I've so enjoyed writing it! :)

God bless you all! Until next time! :)

~ Naya S.