Headfirst For Halos

Prologue

I've always wanted to spread my wings and fly. Mama called me Birdy for a reason, she wanted me to fly far away. Away from Noble, she wanted me to escape our small town in Oklahoma and see the world. Something she never got the chance to do. Mama loved me more then life itself, she said so every chance she got before God took her home.

Daddy turned mean after Mama died. He started to like his whiskey a little more then he should, drank it nearly every day. When he drank his whiskey, he shouted mean things. Daddy said I was the reason Mama died, because she got ovarian cancer a few years after I was born.

Daddy wasn't always a bad man, he use to be the coach of my T-Ball team back when Mama was alive. We would go to the zoo and have picnics and laugh and smile. We were such a happy family back then, and it was all because of Mama. She was the glue that held us together. She was our angel, but God wanted her back. That's what Gran tells me. It's been nearly 10 years since Mama left us. Ten long years of Daddy's angry shouts and his glares. Sometimes I think Daddy would rather me be dead then Mama. I don't blame him. Sometimes, I feel the same way.

Chapter One

Sunlight filtered into the room through the cheap plastic shades that were drawn across the bay window. I watched as the sunlight crept across the light pink Berber carpet and climbed up on top of the bed. The sunlight had soon taken over a vast majority of my bedroom, making everything look bright and happy and young. I was hiding from the sun in the corner of the room that the sunlight didn't touch.

Don't get any ideas. I'm not a vampire or anything like that. No, this isn't a fairytale where death would be so mercifully given to me. Not one bite from a pair of fangs to put me out of my misery. Damn, disappointing, isn't it?

I slowly uncurled myself from my reading chair and stepped onto the soft carpet. I knew Daddy would still be asleep. He had hit the bottle hard last night, in turn, hitting me hard last night. I lifted my arm into the sunlight where I could see his fingerprints bruised into me. I would have to wear long sleeves for a couple of days until it faded, otherwise the people in town would start talking about Daddy.

The people of Noble already know Daddy's a drunk, but they don't know he's a violent drunk. He puts on a good show in front of everybody, calling me 'his little bird'. That was what Mama use to call me before she died. Gran is the only one to really know what he does. I tell her everything. Not just about Daddy, but about what I want.

I want to do what Mama wanted, travel the world. Maybe not the world, but somewhere outside of Noble would be nice. I want to watch the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade in person, not just on the TV. I want to run along the beach and go surfing in sunny California. I want to swimming with the dolphins in Florida. I want to ride on a sail boat in Maine. I want to see the desert sun go down in Arizona. But my dreams were about as likely to come true as Daddy was to get sober.

I walked across my room and opened the closet, looking at the clothes that I had either made or bought with the money I earned from the small jobs around town I took. I worked just about everywhere in town; the grocery store, the bowling alley, the cafe, and the daycare. Anything was better then staying home with Daddy when he had a hang over.

Rummaging through the clothes, I pulled out one of Mama's old sweaters and a pair of jeans. Nothing extravagant, but I wanted to honor Mama because it was ten years to the day that she had passed away. I knew Daddy was going to be even worse then the night before, so I wanted to get out of the house before he woke up.

I slipped on a pair of sneakers and pulled a brush through my hair. I smiled, remembering the way Mama would brush my hair for me. "You're hair is so thick! Let me help you, little bird." She would say. I would smile up at her and sit patiently as she ran the brush through my hair as gently as she could. It never hurt when Mama touched me, only when Daddy did.

I grabbed the camera that Gran had bought for my birthday a few years back and quietly closed my bedroom door. Moving down the hall, I peeked in Daddy's room but he wasn't in there. My heart instantly jumped into overdrive. Was he awake already? I quietly moved down the stairs and moved around to the kitchen. He wasn't there. I moved into the living room and let out a sigh of relief. He had passed out on the couch again. I moved over to him, knowing he slept like a rock.

I hated him so much sometimes. Is that wrong? To hate the person who helped give you life? A bit like biting the hand that feeds you, isn't it? But honestly, I think Daddy hated me sometimes too. At least when he was awake and drinking. I grabbed the afghan off the rocking chair and laid it over his sleeping form. I bent down and kissed his forehead, the scent of whiskey searing in my nose. I wrinkled my nose and stepped back, anger washing over me. Stupid drunk.

I walked past the couch and quietly opened the front door, feeling the heat from the sun already. I locked the door behind me, tucking the key under the loose brick in the patio. I had the whole day to myself, to remember Mama the way she should be remembered..not drink myself to death like Daddy seemed hell bent on doing. I hopped down onto the dirt path that led to the shed where I kept my bike.

The shed was the place Mama would do her art work. It was full of everything I could salvage from Daddy's rampages. Mama's pottery, paintings, and drawings. She was my most favorite artist. I unlocked the shed and stepped inside, the little dust particles swirling around my head as I walked across the rotten wooden floor. A ray of sunshine fell through the window and lit the small room up. I looked up at the walls where I had hung every picture I could find of Mama. It was covered in them. Some of the pictures had me and Daddy in the pictures with her, but mostly they were just Mama.

I glanced over to the back of the shed where I had put my bicycle and something caught my eye. It was the portrait Mama had drawn of me when I was a baby. I was smiling up at whoever was above me, my small baby fists were raised up to be held. I had always assumed it was Mama who was above me, I didn't think I could ever look at Daddy with such love in my eyes. Not that I didn't love him, I just loved Mama more because she loved me more.

I wheeled my bike out of the shed and locked it back up, being surrounded by Mama's things was starting to make me tear up. I hated crying, I tried to do it as little as possible. I never saw Mama cry, she was the kind of strong that I always hoped to be. I've only seen Daddy cry once, and that was right before Mama died. I hated him for crying, because when I saw him cry, I knew things were going to be different. His crying made it real that Mama was dying...I blamed him just like he blamed me.

I straddled my bike and peddled off, away from the Brimley family farm and toward Gran and Gramp's farm. It was only a quarter mile, nothing too daunting. I knew Gran and Gramp's would want to see me today. Mama was their only daughter. They had boys up until Mama was born, four boys to be exact. Uncle Joey, Kent, Mark, and Vick. They were just as loving and friendly as Mama was, they all got it from Gran and Gramps. They were my favorite people in the whole wide world.

I approached their farm and I could already see some of Gramp's farm hands working in the fields and with the horses. My uncle's didn't live in Noble, they lived in and around Ponca City. They moved there for college and never left, I don't blame them. I stopped next to the horse pin where Brad Bob was working with the new mustang.

"Brad Bob!" I called, leaning my bike against the pin. I climbed up so I could sit on the top bar of the fence.

"Hey there, Miss Birdy! How you doin' today?" Brad asked. I called him Brad Bob because Robert was his middle name, and because that's what he told me to call him. He had been working for Gramp's way before I was born, back when Mama was my age. He had a chocolate skin that was whithered and worn from the many years he had seen. Brad Bob was a tall man, the tallest person I've ever known. He had big, broad shoulders and huge biceps. He could be a bodyguard rather then a farm hand, but I think Brad Bob liked working with the horses.

"I've been better." I called out as Brad Bob tied the mustang to the post next to the food trough. He walked over to where I was standing and I could see the sweat dripping from his brow and cheeks. I reached in my pocket and handed him a Kleenex that I kept with me in case I got the sneezes, which happened often. He took it gratefully and wiped his face off.

"I can imagine you're missin' your mama real bad." Brad Bob said, looking deep into my eyes. His deep brown eyes were cloudy with the cataracts that he kept at bay with medication, but I felt as if he could see my every thought and intention. Right down to my soul. He could see how much I missed Mama.

"I do." I agreed, nodding.

"You look just like your mama. Don't you ever forget that she loved you, understand?" Brad Bob asked. He always told me that I looked like Mama, but I never saw it. Mama could have been a model for all the fashion magazines, she was so beautiful. I was plain compared to her.

"I understand." I said, climbing down from the fence. "Do you know if Gran made lemonade?"

"You know she always keep lemonade in the house for you, Miss Birdy." Brad Bob smiled, his entire face lighting up with his bright grin. His brilliant white teeth stood out against his dark face.

I grinned and grabbed my bike, "You know I always gotta ask."

Brad Bob nodded, "I know. I gotta get this beautiful creature of God back into his pin before I go in for some of that beautiful nectar." He waved at me as he headed back over to the tan mustang that was eating quietly at the trough. Brad Bob had such a magical touch with the horses that I bet he could make them do what ever he wanted.

I laughed to myself, imagining Brad Bob making the horses go after Daddy, as I walked up to the main house. Gran's house looked like it came out of Country Living, picture perfect. The siding was white with blue trim around the windows and doors. She had a flourishing garden out front. I use to pretend that fairies lived in the garden and Gran would help me make fairy houses, some of them stayed in the garden, but I stopped believing in fairies after Mama died. I stopped believing in a lot of things when Mama died.

I pushed open the screen door and stepped into what I would consider paradise. The scent of vanilla attacked my senses, but I closed my eyes and smiled. Our house use to smell like vanilla when Mama was alive, it was her favorite smell.

"I'm here, Gran!" I called out, I could hear her bustling away in the kitchen. When Gran was upset she liked to bake and I knew Gran would be upset today.

"Oh, Birdy! I'm so glad your here!" Gran popped her head into the living room. Her face was covered in flour and I could see batter smeared across her forehead. "C'mon in and grab an apron." She said, moving back into the kitchen. I kicked off my shoes at the door and hurried into the kitchen. I grabbed the apron that Gran had made me when I was younger, it was covered with birds. I tied it behind my back and walked over to the sink to wash my hands.

"How are you doing, Gran?" I asked, looking over at her. She smiled warmly, but I could see the hurt on her face.

"I've seen better days, Birdy, but I'm so happy now that you're here." Gran said, handing me a towel to dry my hands with. I dried my hands and set the towel down on the sink.

"What are we making?" I asked, breathing in the homey scents of the kitchen.

"We're going to make apple pie and peach cobbler." Gran said, two of the things I loved best.

"Mmm, my favorite." I smiled, glad that I had Gran with me. If I didn't have Gran or Gramps or even Brad Bob, life without Mama would have been unbearable.

"So, baby girl, how was your Daddy last night?" Gran asked, knowing that it's always harder for Daddy around the time Mama died.

"He was real bad last night." I said, "Drank himself into a stupor and even grabbed me."

Gran dropped the cup of flour she had been holding, "He put his hands on you?" She asked, moving over to where I was standing.

"Yeah, but it's okay, Gran. He didn't know what he was doing." I said, not sure why I was defending Daddy. Yes, Daddy hit me, and yes, it hurt, but I don't think I wanted anything bad to happen to him. Even though he's a stupid drunk and I hate him sometimes, he's still Daddy.

"It's not okay, Birdy." Gran said, running her flour covered hands through her already powder white hair. I shouldn't have said anything, now she was worried about me. "What happened?"

"I was doing my homework and he asked to help me, but I said that I was fine. I moved to go do it in my room, but he grabbed me by the arm. That's all." I said, pulling Gran into a hug. She nodded, I knew she was feeling vulnerable. I could only imagine the pain of losing a child, I only knew the pain of losing a parent. It was horrible, gut-wrenching.

She pushed me away and nodded, "I know, I know, you know I worry about you in that house with him." Gran said, grabbing the cup of flour.

The next hour or so was full of laughter as Gran told me stories about Mama when she was younger. Stories I had heard a million times, but wanted to hear them a million times more. Gran's eyes lit up when she talked about Mama, in a way I can only imagine Mama's eyes lighting up if she were hear to talk about me.

"Birdy, you know your mama loved you." Gran said, interrupting my thoughts. I looked up at Gran and nodded. Everyone told me that, that Mama loved me. I know she did, she told me everyday she had with me.

I have a memory in my brain, safely burrowed inside the deepest place in my mind to bring out when I need her. It's me and her sitting in her and Daddy's room when I was 5. It was two years before she died, and we were happy as can be.

"Little Bird, do you want to know something?" Mama had asked me as she looked out the window.

"Yes, Mama." I answered, sitting on the bed.

"Mama loves you more than anything else in the world. I love you more then there are stars in the sky and grains of sand on the beach. Never forget how much I love you." Mama said, pulling me into her arms.

"Birdy?" Gran asked, cutting the memory off. I wish I could have spent more time with Mama, but I was grateful I had Gran.

"Sorry, Gran, I was spacing off." I said as the timer went off on the stove, letting us know the pie was done.

Gran nodded and walked over to the oven, opening it up. Sweet aromas filled the small kitchen and made my mouth water. I realized I hadn't eaten breakfast yet.

"Gran, are we gonna be able to eat some of that?" I asked, feeling the walls of my stomach rub together.

"Birdy, we didn't make it for a decoration. Of course we're gonna eat it." Gran laughed, setting the pie on an oven mitt next to the stove top.

"Good." I laughed, slipping two plates out of the cupboard.

"Best be gettin' me a plate." I heard Brad Bob call out as he opened the front door. I smiled and grabbed a third plate out.

"Gran, where's Gramps today?" I asked, realizing Gramps big, booming voice was echoing against all the walls in the house.

"He's in town." Gran said, the tone in her voice told me not to pursue it further. I wondered why she was being so secretive, normally she would tell me what he's gone into town to do. My mind went back to the time a few weeks back when Gran told me that they were going to apply for a loan for the farm, they weren't making very much revenue off of the horses they were selling. I wondered if that was where Gramps was, the bank. The tone in Gran's voice made it sound like things weren't looking good.

I nodded and grabbed a knife from the drawer to cut the pie up. I handed Gran and Brad Bob their plates and took a piece for myself. I looked around the kitchen as I bit into the sweet pie, studying the house I spent so much time at. If they weren't able to get the loan, would Gran and Gramps lose the farm?

We finished our pieces of pie and I washed the dishes for Gran as she went in the living room with Brad Bob to watch the soap operas that came on at noon. I finished up the dishes and dried my hands off on my pants.

"Gran, I'm going to be outside." I called out, slipping through the back door. Gran's backyard was her vegetable garden, long rows of corn, tomato's, okra, cucumbers, and asparagus. I spent every spring with Gran, planting and weeding. I loved working with the earth, it was my favorite feeling to feel the dirt crumble between my fingers.

I walked down the walking path, past the garden and started up the slope that led to Mama's old tree fort. It was actually my Uncles' tree fort, but they gave it to Mama when they outgrew it. I stood at the base of the giant oak tree that held the small tree fort. I placed my hands on the rough pieces of ply wood that were hammered into the tree to serve as a ladder and made my way up to the top. I climbed over the ledge and stood up, brushing the dust off of me. The tree house was one of my favorite places to go, it was quiet, secluded, and Daddy didn't know where it was.

The tree house was one of the only places where I truly felt safe from Daddy's mean words. I could feel Mama everywhere in the fort, it made me feel safe. I sat down in the little chair next to the window and looked out at the countryside. I could see our farm from here, and I could almost picture Daddy running around the house looking for me. He knows I spend the day with Gran, but he would run around anyway.

Sometimes I wish I could just run away. Run away from Oklahoma...away from Daddy. I wanted to fly like Mama wanted me to. Fly away out of Oklahoma. I looked at the horizon, black clouds that threatened rain filled the distance. There was going to be a storm, and by the way the horses were running around in the field below me, it was going to be a big one.

I loved thunderstorms. I loved how powerful they were and how they made my bones rattle with huge cracks of thunder. I could feel the electricity in the air and goosebumps began to rise on my arm. Gran said I was connected with mother nature that way. I could feel things no one else could feel when it came to thunderstorms, the electricity and the power of the storm before it got there.

I looked around Mama's tree house again and smiled, it would be beautiful to watch the storm from up here. But that wouldn't be safe. I climbed back down the ladder and landed on the grass below. I wondered if Gramps would be back before the storm hit, it looked like it was going to be very powerful...maybe even tornado-worthy.

I loved twisters, not the destruction, but the power behind them. It was amazing and beautiful. I wanted to be as powerful as a tornado, I already felt like I was spinning out of control. I no longer controlled my own life, everyone around me did. If I could be as powerful as a tornado, I could take control of my own life even if it meant spinning myself into the ground doing it.

I walked back down along the path that led to the main house. I should probably head home before the storm hit, Lord knows what Daddy's doing to prepare. I stepped into the house and noticed that Gran had put the pie away. Walking into the living room, I saw that Gramps was home and him, Gran, and Brad Bob were watching the weather.

"Birdy, you better head home an' get yo' daddy in the cellar." Brad Bob said, "This storm's gonna be a monster."

I looked at the TV and saw the storm front that was approaching Noble. It had an angry hook and from watching enough of the weather channel to become a meteorologist, I knew that could only mean one thing. Twisters. A shiver ran up my spine and I grinned wildly.

"Girl, why you smilin' like that? You won't be smilin' when that tornado picks you up an' tosses you all the way to Tulsa!" Brad Bob scolded me. I wiped the smile off my face, but I was still bursting from the inside out.

"Oh, Brad Bob, don't say that. She should stay here and let Thomas fend for himself." Gran said, obviously worried about me making it home before the storm hit. That was the funny thing about Oklahoma storms, you could see them coming from a million miles away and they still hit you by surprise.

"It's okay Gran, it won't take me long to get home. Don't worry." I smiled and she relaxed. I gave everyone a quick hug before waving goodbye and stepping outside. The electricity in the air made my skin prickle and the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I grinned as I grabbed my bike and climbed on.

I took off toward the farm as the wind began to pick up, causing me to veer to the left. I looked up at the tree tops and it looked hurricane-ish. I tucked my head down and surged forward. I was just about to turn up the driveway when a gust of wind took the wheels out from under me. I landed hard on my hands and knees on the sharp gravel.

Sharp pain shot up my legs and arms as the gravel pieced my skin. I cursed under my breath as I rolled back to sit down, sticking my legs out in front of me to inspect the damage. My knees where skinned and there were little pieces of rock stuck in them, but I've seen worse. I stood up and brushed my legs off, the wind making my hair fly is every direction. I picked my bike off its side and began the long trek up the driveway. I looked around the property at the plants that were bending and whipping around in the fierce wind.

"Birdy! Get inside!" I looked up at the house when I heard Daddy call from the porch. He was standing outside in his boxer shorts, a bottle of whiskey in his hand and the house phone in the other.

"That's what I was doing." I muttered to myself, tucking the bike next to the porch and stomping up the steps. Daddy grabbed my by the back of the neck and steered my inside, not exactly in a gentle manner.

"Where the hell were you?" He asked, but I could barely hear him over the loud crack of thunder.

"I was at Gran and Gramps." I shouted back as another crack of thunder made the house shake.

Daddy just shook his head and let go of my neck. He walked past me into the kitchen and on the way, took a swig from his whiskey bottle.

I rolled my eyes and moved up the stairs. I didn't want to be in the same room as Daddy when he became too drunk to stand, but not drunk enough to pass out. That was when he started shouting at me.

I opened up my bedroom door and sat down on my bed, not bothering to close the door behind me. I could hear the rain as it came down all at once, pounding on the roof mercilessly. The sounds of the storm coming from outside were terrifying, but I wished it would suck me up into it. Fly me away, my imaginary wings ached to fly.

Would it be that hard to fly? Isn't flying just falling in style? Would it be possible for me to 'fall in style' out my window? Sometimes I get these bizarre and terrifying ideas that it would be easy to jump. If I landed right, it would break my neck instantly. I would either end up paralyzed or dead. But then I think, why would I want to be paralyzed? It was too big of a risk.

I was never clinically diagnosed as depressed, but I think that's what I am. Depression mixed into anything was never a good concoction. It made all your happy days a little darker, or you could be entirely happy one minute and the next something triggers you and you feel like ending it all. At least that's how it is for me. I could think about Mama all day long and then I would see a picture she drew and I would crumple to the floor. It was strange.

I turned away from the window to avoid temptation and walked over to my bookshelf. I had a plethora of books, way more then necessary, but I couldn't bring myself to get rid of them. They were my friends, they helped me escape Daddy by taking me to places I could only imagine. Whenever I got a new book, I wouldn't eat, sleep, drink, I would just read. It was like I was addicted to it. Imagine that, me addicted to something as innocent as a book. I had never really thought about it, though. I probably could be addicted to books.

I grabbed a random book, one by my favorite author, and flipped through the pages. The noises coming from outside were very distracting, so I couldn't focus on the words. I put the book back and stepped out of my room, walking down the stairs. Daddy was watching the weather on the TV as he sat in his big recliner and so I sat quietly on the floor in front of the couch.

"There's tornado warnin's in the county below us." Daddy slurred. I looked over at him and had a mix of feelings. He was wearing his white t-shirt and white boxer shorts, but I could see stains all over from where he dripped alcohol. He was balding at the top of his head and he had wrinkles all over his face, which was a shame because he use to be a handsome man. Mama told me how all the girls in their high school would pine over Daddy, but Daddy only cared about Mama. I use to think he was sweet.

I looked back at the TV and wished Daddy wasn't drunk all the time. Me and him use to have all kinds of fun. We would play catch in the backyard when I was in T-Ball and he would attend my tea parties when I hosted them. But now it was like I was living with a stranger, only a stranger I had known my whole life.

Daddy was quiet the rest of the newscast, which was uncharacteristic for him. Normally, he'd either be swearing at me or swearing at the college football team he was fancying at the time. I had a feeling either something really good was going to happen or something really bad was going to happen, either way something was going to happen. I looked over at Daddy and saw that he was sleeping. He had passed out and it wasn't even dinner time yet.

Anger quickly ran through me. It wasn't the fact that he passed out, that I was use to, but he was drinking so much there was no way he was going to out live me. Not that a parent should out live there children, but I could only imagine what his liver looked like after these last ten years of nothing but booze. I hated him sometimes, sure, but I didn't want to lose my other parent before my 20th birthday. The way Daddy was going, I was going to lose him before my 19th.

I stood up, fed up with how big of a drunk he was. Why should I care about him? About what he does to himself? I needed to worry about myself and I needed to do what was right for me. Maybe the best way to do that was to fly away, like Mama wanted me to.