Glass House (F: College Freshman, Mud, Melodrama, 19 Pages)

[dk_angel7]

Glass House
(F: 19 Years Old, Mud, Melodrama, 19 Pages)
By Dark Angel Seven
Origin: April 30, 2008
Major Edit: July 25, 2025

I never thought that things would go so wrong, so fast.

I never thought of harming Hannah in any way.

I wanted her to see reality.

I wanted her to see the truth.

“Today, I shall be safe and secure.” Every day, Hannah spoke those words. “Today, no harm shall come to me for I am a child of God”.

It was true because she said it.

She believed that spoken words create reality.

I did not care who taught her this trash. I did not care how deep her teachers were into “God Consciousness” or the “Mind of God”.

I did not care how “Anointed” they were, even if they were a “Prophet” or “Apostle”.

I found their “wisdom” or the “Words of Knowledge” disgusting.

Reality is a cruel taskmaster.

You can not control it like a puppet and make it what you want.

No thought, mindset, or spoken word was going to change it.

If anything, it controlled you!

I wanted to see her in a situation that challenged her idiotic beliefs.

I wanted to look down into her soft and tender face.

I wanted to see her deep blue eyes radiate the confusion within.

I wanted to ask her questions for years.

“How is your proclamation going to save you?”

“How will your belief in your God’s 'unfailing protection’ solve this?”

“Do you realize that no matter your faith, no matter your belief, you can not walk into danger and expect your god to save you from yourself?”

It does not work that way!

I did not need to ask the questions.

Hannah’s world, her house of glass, shattered with one careless step.

But reality played no favorites.

I was in for a shock.

*

Hannah looked impressive that day. She was petite, two inches shy of five feet. Her tight yellow yet modest sundress highlighted her short black hair and black loafers.

She never used an ounce of makeup. The beauty she radiated was genuine and natural.

A wide smile spread across her glowing face each time I made eye contact with her.

She frantically waved at me.

The ever-present aura of her sweet, fun-loving, and childlike personality radiated from her face.

It was potent that day.

She carried a large, bulky brown backpack, which hung over her left shoulder.

Its size contrasted against her short stature.

Nothing emphasized her eccentric personality than the large covered Study Bible she carried against her hip in her right hand.

I cringed every time I saw her. Hannah brought up something in me that I did not want to feel. I was not ready for a deep relationship with anyone.

I had a problem dealing with her strong personality and religious beliefs.

I did not want to be with her right now.

We had two classes together.

I did not want to discuss homework or her unusual beliefs.

I did not want to talk to her at all.

I was not ready.

*

I slipped out at the end of class without Hannah noticing.

She was a good runner. She had no problem catching up to me.

The county park separated our community college from the empty lake.

The lake was between the park and our neighborhood.

I wanted to go home without Hannah knowing I had left.

I thought of hiding in the park bathrooms.

She knew where to look.

A brunette with short hair would greet me with a smile spread across her face.

The trails that crossed the empty lakebed through tall and thick grass provided my best option.

A path became the main route through the brush and back to my neighborhood.

I had not walked it for more than a month.

It had to be walked alone or in a single file.

The grass brushed against the shoulders as a hiker walked the trail.

I walked the path almost every day last spring to and from college.

I remembered that it widened at the center into a round patch of dry ground.

The sides of the clearing ended in dense brush.

A drift log sat near the middle of the hard ground.

I did not expect the condition of the trail to change since spring.

I could not fool Hannah.

I was at the edge of the tall grass-filled lake.

Hannah had already stepped over a short wooden fence that surrounded the park.

She was catching up to me!

“David! David!” I heard her calling my name. I pretended not to hear. “Hey, David! Wait up!”

How do I get RID of this chick? My frustration ran high. Why can’t she take a hint?

I turned and stepped into the lakebed grass and ran!

The brush was thicker than I expected. The grass slapped my face and shoulders as I ran.

It was something I did not expect.

I thought the path would clear as more people used the trail.

It was overgrown and deserted.

The once-dry ground squished under my feet.

It was wetter than I expected.

I reached the patch of earth halfway through the length of the path.

The round patch of dry and dusty ground was now a pool of thick muck.

My heart pounded. I blew outward with each breath. My hands and face stung where the grass cut my skin.

The path was impassable.

The round patch of thick and wet muck was impassable.

I was shocked!

It was not the spot I knew! It was not the clearing I remembered!

Shoe prints pitted the mucky surface around the edge of the round patch of wet mud.

Footprints became deep holes away from the grassy edge.

The small drift log was now half-buried in the mire near the center.

The center was beyond the drift log was flat. Footprints vanished into a silky smooth pool of soft, creamy muck.

The center was recently disturbed.

A mix of different shades of brown marked the wet surface of the mire.

The grass rustled. I heard footsteps. Hannah was coming!

Genius Sherlock! What are you going to do NOW?

Heart pounded! Mind raced! I panicked! I did not want her to see me!

Hide, you idiot!

Carefully, I stepped along the side of the pit, trying to avoid getting a shoe stuck in the muck.

I dove into the thick grass halfway around the circle.

I was on my knees as water soaked through my blue jeans.

I had the dreadful feeling that something was going wrong with Hannah barging through the grass toward the clearing, toward the mud.

My stomach knotted.

She burst through the grass.

A wide smile spread across her face as she walked with a confident stride. Her eyes were gazing into space.

She had no clue that she was walking into a deep and muddy trap.

Her loafers kicked up mud as she walked.

Hannah HAD to know what was ahead of her! She had to! Then again --!

Her religious beliefs prevented her from realizing the danger.

My stomach knotted.

Was I in denial? I do not know. I did not entertain the thought.

Hannah’s eyes lit up. Her smile vanished.

There was a slosh each time she pulled a foot out of the muck.

Her hand swept the air for balance.

Her face tightened with determination. There was a flash of fear in her eyes.

Mud caked the calves of her bare legs as she pulled each foot free.

I cringed as my muscles tightened.

I was in shock as I watched Hannah struggle forward to the pool of muck.

I wanted to scream!

I could not.

Hannah looked downward.

Her eyes widened in terror.

She gasped once she saw the pool of soupy mire at the center.

Her hands swept through the air as she fought to keep her balance.

The ground gurgled as her feet sank deep into the muck.

Hannah screamed as her legs folded underneath her.

There was a deep and muffled splat.

Both knees vanished into the center of the pool the moment she sat on her legs.

The wet mire opened to catch her.

It closed upon her legs once it had her in its soupy grip.

Waves spread out across the pool on the mud.

Her hands swept the air searching for something to grab.

Her covered study Bible smashed onto the grassy edge of the clearing.

She quickly pulled off her backpack.

Her body shifted with a large heave.

The center of the clearing, the mud pool, and the soggy pitted edge rolled as she made her throw.

Her book bag crashed into the grass near her Bible.

It all happened so fast.

There was not enough time for me to react.

Both of Hannah’s hands circled overhead as she tried to scream.

The soft muck flowed over her legs and the yellow skirt of her sundress.

Eyes radiated the terror that flashed across her face as her hips sank into the pool.

Hannah twisted as the mud churned.

Grunting and groaning, her arms swung with her body as she grunted and groaned.

She reached for the grass in front of her.

There was a violent gurgle, and the pool bubbled.

Hannah lifted both hands above her head as she looked downward.

She was no longer sitting on her legs.

She forced both legs deep into the soft mire as she struggled to escape.

She hoped to find solid ground under her feet.

She would never find the bottom of the soft pool of mire.

The wide-eyed and terrified girl realized that she had fallen into a deep and muddy quicksand.

Escape was now impossible. She could not save herself.

I could feel the horror radiating from Hannah as she sank to her chest.

*

I heard it said that hindsight has perfect vision.

I should have jumped in and saved her.

But what would I tell Hannah?

How would I explain myself?

How could I explain why I hid in the grass, waiting?

How could I explain why I sat there and watched her sink?

Even if I wanted to save her, I could not!

I was frozen! I could not move! I could not scream!

Hannah saw the driftwood. All she had to do was reach for the log.

I told myself that Hannah would pull herself free. She would shake off the mud. She would grab her backpack full of books and continue down the trail.

Everything would be fine.

She would never know I was there.

*

Well, Hannah did reach for the log. With the swipe of a hand, her fingertips slid off the top.

She was up to her shoulders in soupy and churning mire.

Her hands splashed on the surface as she tried to claw her way closer.

Her eyes were wide with terror as she gasped and whined in terror.

She knew that the log was her only hope to save herself.

Get the log! Get the log! Silently, I urged her on. Come on, get the log! You’ve got to get it!

My chest hurt. Every muscle was tight.

I was terrified!

What if she cannot get out! What if she is stuck? What if she --!

Her arm splashed out of the pool.

Her fingers connected with the log and slipped.

Her arms pushed out of the soup and she dug in the muck with her hands.

A morbid terror glowed in her eyes and radiated from her sweet face.

Her desperate whines rang with the fear that she was going to drown.

Her fingers slapped on top of the log with a sweeping grab.

They slipped.

Shock tore through my body and twisted my stomach as the log shifted and rolled out of reach!

Hannah screamed in violent desperation! Her eyes were wide in terror.

Up to her neck, Hannah flailed in the middle of the pool.

The entire pool lurched and rolled.

The churning mire reacted to her tortured struggle deep in the soupy pit.

The sweet and naïve girl gasped and screamed, knowing that she was going to drown in a violent storm of terror, pain, and certain death.

Oh God! This can not be happening to me!

My chest burned with pain. I could not breathe. I could not comprehend the terror I felt or the horror I saw.

I will never forget the look in her eyes.

My mind flashed back to a few hours, even days.

Those eyes shone with the pure innocence of a child with joy, hope, and excitement.

Her smile brightened any room, no matter how gloomy the atmosphere was.

Shock, morbid terror, and confusion replaced joy and innocence.

The self-confident girl who had the answers for everything was bewildered.

The mire reached her chin as she leaned her head backward.

Her eyes sparkled as rivers of tears rolled down her face.

“David! David!” A sort, terrified and hoarse voice called my name. Intense shivers ripped up and down my spine. “David, help me!”

Those words would haunt me for many years, in my nightmares.

Swim! Damn, it! Swim! Get out of there!

For a moment, there was dead silence but for the sound of gasping, splashing, and struggling.

“GOD HELP ME!” Hannah’s violent and sobbing scream split the air. My body jerked and shook. A deep, loud buzz filled my ears. “OH, GOD! PLEASE HELP ME!”

Deep gasp! Her face plunged into the soft mire.

The flowing muck reached her forehead. Her head thrashed. The mud churned.

There were two muffled screams.

Each time a hand reached the surface, it splashed in front of her. Her fingers clawed at whatever they could find.

Her head vanished, and her arms went straight up. Both hands – reaching, grasping at nothing.

I exploded out of the grass.

My feet bogged down halfway to the log. My arms spread out in front of me.

I fell.

My elbows, both hands shoved into the mire.

A shock went through my body as I slammed into the muck.

My ears ached as a charge of pain exploded through my forehead.

I shook my head and began to crawl.

I felt the ground shift as Hannah struggled underneath.

Pulling myself on top of the log, the mud pool churned in front of me!

Different shades of mud surged up from underneath. Small clumps on the surface vanished into pools of turbulence.

I knew she was violently struggling deep in a thick pool of pitch-black, soft mire.

She was reaching, kicking, and jerking as she searched for anything to save herself before she lost her breath.

“Hannah! Hannah! Oh God! Hannah!”

Screams tore through my throat. My stomach knotted. My head pounded. My heart slammed in my chest.

I never thought terror could be so strong, so pure. But it was there, tearing my mind, my body.

My hand was ready to grab anything.

But no, Hannah! No nothing!

“Hannah! Please, Hannah! Come on, Hannah!”

A hand splashed to the surface. Her fingers waved in the air.

I reached for her wrist.

Plop, the hand vanished. Mud splashed a foot into the air.

Another hand reached for the surface then sank.

The surface churned.

Bubbles popped on the shifting surface.

*

Memories of Hannah flashed through my mind.

I remembered the short, annoying girl in middle school.

The first day I saw her, she had new tennis shoes.

Her blue jeans were frayed at the bottom to give them a stylish look.

Schoolbooks held tight against her chest.

Her hair was much longer, down to her shoulders.

Her sassy smile made my skin crawl.

She had an attitude that matched.

Could she talk? Oh, yeah! I do not remember a moment of peace when she was near.

Our relationship changed as months passed.

I remembered the house party that was one of the most cherished memories of High School.

The verbal jabs went back and forth between Hannah and me all night.

I had a hard time keeping up with her wit.

Friendly and popular, she became quite a lady.

Almost every boy in school had a crush on her, including me.

I remembered when she joined the small storefront church downtown.

She became radiant when she found her faith.

Her face was golden and her eyes sparkled when she smiled.

Overall, she was still a wonderful person.

However, I could not tolerate her fixation on religion.

I thought it could not get worse. But it did!

She pursued me from the first day of classes at our two-year college.

My mind flipped through the pages of a notebook, picturing the times I turned around and saw Hannah standing.

Her annoying smile, as usual, was ear to ear.

I wanted to be with her.

But I could not stand her.

So I chose the one option I thought was available.

I ran and hid when I could.

But Hannah had the nose of a bloodhound.

She knew where to find me.

*

Everything ran in slow motion.

Still, in denial, I wanted to believe that it all was a bad dream.

It had to be!

The surface of the pool settled down to an occasional surge from below.

The colors and textures of mud shifted as a rush of bubbles popped on the surface.

A surge of emotions burned in my chest as my eyes filled with water.

Everything was darker, in me, around me, in my mind, and in my thoughts.

There was no longer any denial about how I felt about her.

I realized that we needed each other.

We were the fulfillment of our lives, hopes, and dreams.

Hannah knew it.

I refused to believe for years.

*

“HANNAH! HANNAH! OH GOD! HANNAH!”

The feeling of fear boiled.

It churned harder and hotter as the seconds passed, as the cold presence of death grew darker and closer.

Everything within me exploded.

Everything was coming to a horrible end.

I found myself screaming and clawing at the muck as I choked and sobbed.

“HANNAH! REACH HANNAH, REACH! I AM HERE!”

Two fingertips popped to the surface with a flick of mud.

I shoved my hand into the muck without a second thought.

I found Hannah’s arm as her fingers wrapped around my wrist.

A violent force pulled downward. My chin and my armpit slammed into the log. Pain radiated from my jaw, shoulder, and arm. My fingers went numb.

Hannah had a death grip on my wrist. I waited for a snap and excruciating pain to flood my arm. But it did not come.

Everything around me fell into momentary darkness. The pain from my arm and jaw surged through my body.

My vision cleared as mud splattered into my face.

Hannah’s muddy fingers slipped off my hand.

My foot swung around to the log.

I grabbed Hannah’s wrist as her hand flailed in the air.

Another hand! I reached. I had both of Hannah’s wrists.

Adrenaline surged. I pulled hard. Pain flooded my arm and my shoulder. My chest burned. My heart pounded.

The muck mounded. Hannah's nose and other features of her face formed as the muck slid off her face. The horrific image would be etched into my mind forever.

Hannah’s eyes were wide open. But she could not see. A muddy film tinted them a light brown. Even though the mud, I could see the mortal terror in her eyes.

I wanted to call her. I wanted Hannah to know I was here.

She could not hear. Mud jammed her ears.

Muck poured out of her mouth with a muted cough. It drained from her nostrils. Gagging and repulsive sounds came from her throat.

My foot slipped off the log. My grip on Hannah’s arms - gone.

I fell on my back.

My head hit the soft ground with a thud.

The impact raced through my body and shook my head.

I flipped over onto my knees. Out of breath, I brushed the sweat off my forehead with my arm.

Hannah was mud-soaked and draped over the log. The log dug into the pit of her stomach.

She clawed her fingers into the wet earth as her body shook.

She struggled to gasp for air. Each cough brought chunks of mud from her throat and lungs.

Her body writhed as a rush of vomit flew out of her mouth. It splattered on the ground and splashed back onto her face.

The smell was repulsive. I fought the temptation to gag.

What could I do? What could I say? I felt so helpless!

I crawled through the mud. I reached out and touched Hannah’s arm.

“Hannah, I am going to get some help.”

Enough muck fell from her ears for her to hear me. She grabbed my arm and held tight.

Her other hand was a tight fist and pounded the muck. Mud splashed with each strike. She shook her head – NO!

I pulled myself next to her. My fingers intertwined with hers. My other hand ran through her mud-soaked hair and down her back.

I rested my forehead on her shoulder.

I did what I could to ignore the sight and smell of vomit on the ground and clinging to her mouth and nose.

“Hannah, I am here! I am staying here!”

Another clump of mud cleared her throat with a gasp.

Her body shook with several desperate and abrupt sobs.

Several wrenching coughs jolted Hannah’s body.

Her hand squeezed mine as her other hand clawed at the ground.

My ears rang with a steady tone as she screamed.

Hannah dropped her forehead onto the ground and sobbed.

I could only hold her hand.

I continued to run my hand through her muddy hair and down her back.

“It’s OK, Hannah. It’s OK.” It was the only thing I could do to comfort her. “It’s OK. You are safe now.”

Crap, where is my cell phone

I pulled my cell phone from my back pocket, wiped off a finger on my shirt, and hammered the emergency call button.

I stuffed my muddy phone back into my pocket.

Eventually, I put my forehead on top of the back of her head.

I held Hannah with my arm across her back.

My tears began to mix with hers on the ground.

*

A gasping scream shattered my sleep. I sat up in bed and shook my head to get my bearings, what day it was, what time it was, and where I was.

Hannah was on her back next to me. Her hands clawed at the air. Her eyes were wide open, glowing with a deep and dark terror.

I reached over to grab her shoulder.

“Hannah! Hannah! Wake up!” I shook her as hard as I could out of deep sleep. “Hannah! You’re safe! It’s me, David!”

The screams stopped. She had a tight grip on my forearm. Deep breaths filled her lungs. Both eyes, confused and scared, searched the tiles on the ceiling, the light, and the ceiling fan.

“Hannah! It’s me, David! You are safe! You are home!”

She turned her head and looked at the features on my face. Her blue eyes stared into mine.

“Hannah, it’s OK.”

Her head dropped back onto her pillow. She closed her eyes after several deep sighs. A strained look spread across her face. Tears rolled down her cheek.

I reached over and held her head in my hand. My fingers were deep in her hair. My thumb wiped off a tear.

Again, she turned her head to look at me. A wide smile spread across her face. She wrapped her arm around me and buried her face into my shoulder.

She began to cry.

I put my arm around her and held her tight.

“I am scared, so scared.” Hannah’s voice whispered into my ear. “When will these nightmares end?”

Hannah’s crying faded.

She sighed several times.

Her muscles relaxed as she began to drift back into a light sleep.

I lay my head back onto my pillow. I closed my eyes and began to relax.

I listened to the ticking of the living room clock when I heard the shuffle of feet. A dark figure stood at the bedroom doorway.

“Mommy?” A quiet, soft, shy voice of a five-year-old girl broke the silence. “Is Mommy OK?”

I lifted my head. Hannah rolled over and looked at the doorway.

It was Hannah’s daughter, Mary.

She was standing there, holding a teddy bear and a blanket -- tightly. Two eyes radiated deep insecurity. She stuffed her nose into the head of her teddy bear.

“Mommy is OK, dear.” Hannah tried to be as reassuring as possible. “Mommy had a bad dream.”

“Can I --?”

Hannah turned her head and looked at me. Her eyes and her face were unsure.

But I knew what she was asking.

I shook my head, yes.

Hannah smiled.

“Come on up, Honey!” Hannah rolled over and patted her hand on the bed. “Come on up!”

A smile spread across Mary’s face. Like Hannah, her blue eyes sparkled.

There was a quick shuffle that only a pair of small and fluffy bunny slippers could make.

After a frenzy of bouncing and shifting bed sheets, I had two pairs of eyes staring at me. One smile was like the other.

Eventually, both mother and child were fast asleep.

Mary was in the arms of her “Mommy”.

A pair of floppy ears and fur-covered eyes watched from the top of the headboard.

I heard the ticking of the clock in the living room.

In the silence, my mind drifted through the past years – the years since the accident.

*

Hannah was not the same. The childlike, carefree, and bubbly glow was gone.

She stopped carrying her Bible.

Maybe she left it at home.

It was one of the many books in her backpack.

But its absence was unsettling.

She walked home alone. The backpack would be strapped to her back as usual. She folded both hands against her chest. Her eyes and face looked like she was about to break down into tears.

Hannah was distant and lost in her thoughts. I would walk up to her and get her attention. She would snap out of deep thought and paste a smile on her face.

She stated that nothing was wrong.

Her vacant eyes and tension on her face told me otherwise.

Hannah became reclusive as the days wore on.

I kept looking over my shoulder, searching for her. I expected to see her standing in front of me as I turned back.

There was no Hannah!

I walked through doorways expecting the usual ambush.

There was no Hannah!

I forgot how many times I entered a room.

I knew Hannah was there. I made eye contact. I waited for the usual robust, cheerful greeting.

The moment I turned my head – no Hannah!

I became scared and confused. I had spent all of my time running away.

Each day, I woke up with the empty realization that the tide had turned.

Now Hannah was running!

Why did I feel this way? What happened? How did I get into this mess? Did I need to sort my feelings -- how?

My thoughts and questions about Hannah never stopped.

Why was she running? Why was she so down? Did the accident affect her THAT much? Was her idealistic world so fragile that one accident would so shatter her self-image?

I saw her after my final exams. It would be a long time before I would ever see her again.

Stopped at a red light, she was riding in a dirty old Plymouth. She looked ill, stressed, and without expression. She turned her head. Her empty eyes looked into mine.

Hannah turned her head after a pause and looked down at the floor of the car. She closed her eyes. I could see the tears rolling down her face.

Two angry and domineering eyes stared back at me from the driver. His hair was a mess. He had not shaved in days.

A sinister smile spread across his face. He knew what I did to push Hannah away – into his clutches.

The light was green, and Hannah was gone, probably forever.

I bolted to my apartment as fast as I could.

I buried my face into my pillow and sobbed for hours.

*

It took me a year to begin to deal with the loss.

I was able to make some new friends who heard about my relationship with Hannah and the accident.

Many of them went through the same horrible crisis.

They went to another town to complete their education.

I swear to my horror, I saw Hannah at a distance a few times.

She can not be here. That is impossible.

I later learned that she did search and follow me.

In our second year at the new school.

Two weeks after Halloween, I was sitting down with my friends and family to plan our Thanksgiving and Christmas.

The cell phone rang!

That Thanksgiving, Hannah was her usual self, fun-loving, talkative, and a bright, glowing light that could drown out any darkness. There were brief moments when she would fall into a depression. But she shook her head, snapped out of it, and remained her jovial self.

There were several moments when I forgot that we were apart for so long.

Everyone enjoyed her presence. She had a wonderful evening as well.

It did not even feel awkward. It was like we were never apart.

I had no desire to bring up the recent past.

We met Mary for the first time. The one-year-old gleefully sat in her high chair and threw food on the floor to watch our golden retriever lick it up. My family loved every minute of it. Mary soaked up the attention like a sponge, laughing, giggling, and throwing more food on the floor.

Mirror image! Mary gave me the chills. Her bright blue eyes, wide smile, and short black hair matched Hannah's.

Hannah held up very well.

The evening came.

We were home from our late Thanksgiving church service. A healthy fire rolled in the fireplace. Everybody began to settle down for bedtime. Hannah and I sat on the couch. I had my arm around her, and she was tight against my side.

Mary was asleep on the floor. Her head was on a pillow. Her brand-new teddy bear was tight against her chest. She looked so peaceful, so content, and so happy.

In the dark and quiet living room, the last light went out. The flickering flames from the fireplace lit the walls. The crackle of the fire filled the room.

I could feel Hannah grow tense. She leaned forward and rubbed her forehead with her fingertips. She buried her face into the palms of her hands.

Quietly, she began to cry.

I rubbed Hannah’s back between her shoulder blades.

Mary snapped out of a sound sleep and rubbed her eyes.

Marry cried as she tried to mouth the word, “Mamma”.

Hannah pulled her arms to her chest and tucked her legs up close to her body. With her face still in her hands, Hannah shook and began to sob.

With one arm across Hannah’s back, I pulled her to my side. On the other hand, I put her head on my shoulder.

Hannah’s sobbing grew louder.

The look of fear in Mary’s young eyes deepened.

I looked at Mary.

“Come on, Mary!” Hannah held Mary and said between chokes and sobs. “Mommy has you!”

Fighting back her sobs, Hannah wrapped her arms around her daughter. Hannah rocked back and forth, trying to comfort her crying child.

Hannah fought to maintain some composure for Mary.

Mary turned her head and looked at me. She buried her face deep into Hannah’s chest.

Hannah looked up at me. Mary cried as she forced her face deeper into Hannah’s chest. Hannah fought back the tears and forced a smile.

Hannah leaned back onto my shoulder.

Hannah held onto Mary until she cried herself to sleep.

Not long after, Hannah gave out one massive sigh and fell asleep on my shoulder.

*

The clock in the living room continued to tick as my thoughts and memories rolled through my mind.

I firmed up my pillow and rolled onto my side.

Blankets covered Hannah’s shoulders. Hannah recovered from her nightmare and was fast asleep. She sighed and adjusted her head.

The top of Mary’s head poked out from under the covers and the secure hold of Hannah’s arms.

I ran my fingers, through Hannah’s hair. She smiled and went back to sleep.

I ran the tips of my fingers through Mary’s hair, expecting the same reaction.

Mary lifted her head. Two eyes looked at me from under the bed sheets.

I could feel every muscle in my body tighten. My stomach knotted.

I was not sure how she would react.

Their life was turbulent and abusive until Mary was one year old.

Mary’s hand came up from under the sheets. She pulled the covers down. A bright sparkle radiated from her eyes. A wide smile spread across her face.

Mary reached up and grabbed my hand. I opened my hand as she pulled it to the side of her face.

The tips of my fingers ran circles in Mary’s hair as she rubbed her cheek deep into the palm of my hand.

She looked upward into my eyes.

Her eyes sparkled. A wide, mischievous smile crossed her face, ear to ear.

Mary let go of my hand and pulled the covers back over her head and snuggled deeper into Hannah’s arms.

She lifted her head and looked at me.

There was another gleeful smile.

Mary went back under the covers. The next moment, she was fast asleep.

For the first time, Mary’s glowing face radiated the complete trust I was trying to build for years.

I looked at the wall. In the darkness, I could still make out our wedding picture in detail. Hannah’s face glowed with the same innocence she radiated in school.

In a family portrait, both mother and child shone with smiles and bright eyes.

I turned my head to look at the nightstand. An evening devotional was between two Bibles.

*

I never thought that one incident could change my life so fast, so completely.

I never thought how one event could open my eyes to what was important, what I thought was important, and what was trivial.

I wanted to live my life the way I wanted.

I wanted to live my life surrounded by people I cared for and who cared about me.

I had an image of my future, my life, and my family.

Focused on my dreams, ideals, and expectations, I nearly missed it.

I almost lost everything in a moment of blind stupidity, like a reckless act in a house of glass.

God, please help me!

Please, save me from my mistakes.

I do not want to make this mistake again!

[nointelhere]

Wow!

[klib21]

This story is basically perfect. The emotion is very real...

[quagmire_uk]

Most impressive. A lot of emotion and psychology, far deeper (no pun intended) then alot of other stories.

And I just finished reading another story (I won't say which one to avoid spoiling for anyone) that seemed like it might end happily. And now I've read one where it seemed she was doomed, and then... well, perhaps it wasn't entirely a "happy" ending, but a realistic non-grim one. And a bit earlier I read someone else's story that was simultaniously happy and non-happy, where someone was doomed but wasn't too upset about it and they defeated their enemy.

So today really is a day for being surprised by quicksand stories and not getting what one usually expects!

[SmileyMcDeath]

I'll second Quagmire_UK there--MOST impressive!

[PM2K]

Nicely done, sir!

[schlamm]

*

[dk_angel7]

I have tried to find an avatar creator to create images of characters in my stories.

This is the best one to date of Glass House's Hannah Shepherd.

I used "http://tektek.org" to create it.

Hannah Shepherd Image.png

[dk_angel7]

hannah_shepherd_by_dark_angel_seven_dg3vaaw-375w-2x Dream Up Image.jpg

Dream Up Image

Hannah Shepherd Maidens Image.png

Maidens Inage

[quagmire_uk]

Wow, blast from the past! I hope your image update causes newer members to read the story (and older members to re-read it!)