Rising: Awakening: Amanda, #1

By A. A. Maspes

“Yeah…It wasn’t easy. There were times where suicide seemed like the right choice to make. Even to this day I wake up in the middle of the night, screaming. Everything I did, I did for her.

Life in this world can be wonderful. Yet it is terrible for so many. I just didn’t want her to suffer. I also used it as an excuse to search for him, he was my hero after all.
Do I regret it? Nah, I’d do it all over again. What option did I have? Roll over and die? Put my head down and do as I was told? Forget it. I am my own woman.

Care to listen how it all began?”

• Language: English
• Publisher: A. A. Maspes
• Release date: Aug 1, 2014
• ISBN: 9781502268877

Book preview

RISING: AWAKENING.

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Cover Design by Linda Kressin.

Cover Illustration by Luise Kressin.

Copyright © 2014 A.A. Maspes

All rights reserved.

To my parents and fiancée

Prologue

That’s it for today guys. Don’t forget to read Chemerensky’s for next class. Amanda got her notes together and put them into her bag. Another day wasted —she thought— every day the same mindless cycle. I get up, shower and dress.  Just to walk these filthy streets, always scared of everyone, fending off perverts on the subway, having to deal with a nation of barely functioning excuses of people.

By the time she realized, Amanda found herself blocks away from the university. Her chest tightened, as it did every day.

I don’t want to go home, she said to herself what is the point anyway? My house will probably be empty. Dad... There it was.

Her chest was starting to feel as if an invisible, cold, iron hand held it on its grasp and pressed with the force of a thousand cries. She couldn’t breathe. The pollution-filled air was evading her lungs again. Laying her back against a graffiti covered wall. People who believed they were making a change, she thought. With one hand on her leg, desperately trying to hold her own weight, she reached into her bag and searched blindly for relief. Her chest was getting tighter, her vision fading.

Please no, she wanted to scream. Suddenly, with her hand still searching in her bag, she felt that familiar friendly touch and a smile faint painted her pale lips.

You had me scared for a moment there, she said looking into her bag. Then as if life itself was being injected into her, she stood up as fast as she could and looked in every direction. No one saw me, thank god, she said, as she whipped the tears away and straighten her new dress, now dirty with the thing she hated most. Her own city.

1

The sight of the departing train made her think of a documentary she saw when she was little. At the time, it made Amanda giggle. The sight of hundreds of people being pushed into a tiny metal box made no sense to her young mind. She recalled asking to her mom why people would do that. And the answer that years ago made so much sense, made her feel angry now. They must have something very important to do the words echoed in her head, but now she knew the truth. They just didn’t know better. She sighed and looked at the arriving train. Just as full as the previous one. I’ll just walk home she finally decided and started to go up the stairs again. It was already dusk when she emerged and she froze for a second. She heard the stories time and time again, Never walk alone at night!, but she didn’t care this time. She already had one panic attack today and wasn’t going to risk a second one. Not to mention the usual groping and other unpleasant things that usually happen in tight, crowded spaces.

The way home was long, but the cool night breeze brushed gently against her cheeks and made her feel safe. As she advanced out of the city and stepped into a park, the sounds of traffic started to fade, she could hear birds in the distance and she hadn’t seen one person in the last thirty minutes. She walked up to a lonely bench under a flickering light. It was already dark. Slowly she sat down while holding her dress and took her phone out of the bag. She had thirteen messages. All from classmates reminding her about the many things she took care of back at the University. There was the reminder of the upcoming debate, the student council reunions and the organization details for the freshmen welcome. She didn’t care about any of those things and just ignored them. The rest of the messages were from different men asking her out. Her answer was the same to every one of them. You could never begin to make me happy and I don’t like to waste my time. She never understood why all these men were interested in her. It started when she was fourteen and for the past eight years it only got worse. They kept insisting and she kept rejecting. After putting her phone way, Amanda opened her bag wide. You think one day the world would be like this all around? No, I understand that it cannot be all green, people need houses and buildings in general. But maybe, less crowded? Why? Because it’s nice! Imagine if the city would make us happy instead of killing us! No? Oh! I get what you mean. A jogger passed by her and screamed: Shut up, crazy bitch! She didn’t even flinch. I bet that it’s like that only here. It must be different in other countries!

It was her last year of being a student. Law firms all over the country were fighting over her. She hadn’t told anyone yet, but she was going to apply to the junior program at the UN.

She was convinced that if there was any place where she could help fix her country, it was there. She had also considered working in the government, but in a nation where presidents are elected based on which one looks nicer, there was no much hope of fixing it from the inside. At least, I will be able to travel a lot. Any place is better than this place she thought.

Her phone started ringing and she dreaded a call from one of the people she rejected. She would get these calls quite often and they always went the same way. They would go on and on about how big of an opportunity she was missing on and how lucky she was to be asked out by him. She would just space out, trying to count how many words per second they were able to vomit. When she felt he had enough time to vent, she would hang up and block the number. But it was her mom, she was worried. Relax mom, I’m almost home. I just decided to walk home today and lost track of time sitting on a bench. I’ll be home in ten minutes, I promise! And as she said this, she was already up on her feet and walking back home.

As she walked, the idea of a fresh cooked meal made her pick up her pace. She hated eating breakfast and taking food from home. It was too much of a hassle. Something wasn’t right when she passed through her front yard. All the lights were off.

Taking her keys, she opened the door but there was no homemade meal smell in the air. Just a note stuck to the fridge.

We went to the cinema, see you tomorrow. Love, mom

How can I be so dumb? It has been years since Mom welcomed me with a hot meal she realized.  After a brief moment gazing at the living room, lost in thoughts of a better past, Amanda put her bag on the floor and turned the kitchen lights on. She wasn’t sure of what to cook. What do you think, dear? Should we get some pasta? She reached for a pot and started pouring water on it.

Fuck this, I need a bath, she said hoping to hear her mother’s voice telling her those are not words meant for lady’s lips, there was only silence.

I should really do something about this feeling, she said to herself. It’s been years since I feel this way and nothing seems to change.

Once in the bathroom, she turned on the lights and let the water run. Her knees felt made of rubber, there was not a chance she could go through a shower.

There were many things she hated about the place where she lived. It was too crowded, her step father was the most unpleasant person to be around and her sister just annoyed her. But her bathroom was her safe haven.

She had spent several years decorating and moving things from one side to another. She even came up with a way of putting a sound system, meant for a studio, in there. She had made holes in the wall for the system and speakers, then sealed it with transparent plastic. It did muffle the sound a little bit, but she was sure, if it weren’t for it, the speakers would have died long ago.

The walls were of white ceramic and a red pattern. Her mother hated the pattern, said it was satanic. It only made Amanda angrier. It was the symbol of rebirth. You could compare it to the mighty phoenix even. She sat down on the side of the bath, waiting for it to fill and contemplated the result of nine months of work, so many years ago. There was a red snake surrounding an olive branch. The snake appeared to be eating itself