Sirens sang in the distance, the colors red and blue felt so familiar to me.

Playing with little rubbery fairies, bending their arms this way and that way, toying with them, doing what I pleased. Her living room always smelling like dead flowers and dust with a hint of chocolates and sweets as she cooked some snacks, giving me that polite and sweet smile every elder woman did. My brother played in the basement where all the mounted animal heads were; the deer, moose, and bear, all preyed by him. I rarely ever went into the basement, it was dark and smelled of smoke, that's where the dog was too, he was big and loud. I was scared of him. My mom's boyfriend would reassure me that I'd be fine, and I trusted his word. I'd only go through the basement to get to the garden.

On my birthday my mom's boyfriend got me a cat. We named her Lily Rose Tulip. She was tiny and scared of almost everything. She was terrified of lightning and thunder, something that's bigger, louder, and not something that could be predicted. We’d find her hiding in places that would keep her safe. He knew I loved cats, and I could take care of one. I would watch her and play with her as much as I could, always having a smile on my face, he would smile back at me, gently, and kindly; even for a hunter, he was nice.

In the garden, dipping my finger into the bird baths, the cold biting my finger. The sun shadowed by the clouds but it was so warm. I would run in the garden, looking over at the overgrown pool in her backyard; It was huge. She would be near, watching over me, her smile polite. The garden was big, but instead of the beautiful, flowing garden that it is thought of, it was dead, overgrown, and filled with dead leaves. 

I always thought of thunder when I looked at those gray clouds, but it never seemed like it was the right time for it to roar, for it to strike, and do some damage.

The sky was a deep black, and the street light would flicker slowly, impatiently, as I waited for the echoing voices and harsh words to stop, the loud bangs and yelling waking me, I was confused at first, but then just scared of what might be happening. It would be late at night when the moon shined through my window, or mid-day while my brother and I played games. This time it was night, and I held my blanket tight, not sure of how to act. I could hear my mom's wails, and his voice, like thunder in my ears. I barely ever saw what went down, but the times I did… I was frightened, the sight of my mother either on the floor or pushed around. I didn't know what to do, I just stood there, in the shadows on the stairs. I didn't know better, I thought that was normal, but I knew deep down that something was wrong, I knew it was wrong. To just stand and watch in fear, the lightning roaring till the ground shook.

My brother was always by my side as this took place, he would comfort me, holding me almost as tight as I held my blanket. 

It was the third time, the third time we called them. His boots sank mud into the floor. He was so loud, his voice ached my brain. The sirens rang in the town, bouncing off the streets from the police cars getting near. My brother had dialed 911. My memory got fuzzy, I don't remember, it merged into blurry pieces about those situations. All I do remember are those flashing lights, loud noises, and his boots, brown mud boots. His name etched into my mind, carved in a way I can't pronounce. My fingers tingle and cramp up at the thought of even spelling it. 

How did someone who gained my trust, who had built up the thought of him as good and nice, come out to be someone hurtful, endangering my family, and not at all what I thought. 

I'm glad we got away, that we’re free of him, but I can never get free of what little memory I have of those instances, the imprint he has left on me. 

The cover that he showed, the design, colors, and memory was nothing like how he was, not the title, not the words.