A New Hell

David Correa
1956-2006
Died Oct. 31
Loving husband and father

Eliana made a mental list of things that she had seen on her father’s grave a couple of hours ago. She stared out the window of her car with tears silently streaming down her face. Her father’s grave was about three hours away from their old home in Wycomb, Pennsylvania.
         Eliana’s mother was remarrying in four days and they were headed to her new father and brother’s house. It was now only about two hours away.          
         She turned her attention back to her mother. She looked paler then usual, most likely nerves on this Sunday. ‘Serves her right,’ Eliana thought. It was only two months after her father’s death and already she had a new father and brother.
         
They arrived at the house about five o’clock. Richard came out the door arms outstretched. Eliana ducked underneath his arms and went a couple more steps just in case he tried to hug her a second time. He ignored her, however, and went to kiss her mom.          
         She closed her eyes and held more tears back. When she opened her eyes she saw a boy with black spiky hair and black eyes. He looked a couple years older then she was. His eyes were closed, though he wasn’t doing such a good job as she at keeping his tears back. Richard said they were just in time for dinner.
         It was fish and shrimp lasagna.
         She felt sick.
         Eliana sat at the table avoiding their eyes and picking at the food on her plate. Mom and Richard looked uncomfortable.          
“This is my son Daniel,” said Richard with a sad attempt of a smile. Daniel and Eliana glared at each other from across the table. Richard seemed to get the hint because no one talked all through dinner.
         After dinner Eliana’s mom showed her where she would be sleeping for the night.
          It was a very large room that smelt of smoke. It looked as though the person who had been in the room before her had tried to decorate the room with old bike parts.          There was a jumble of odd trinkets on the ground and walls and there were holes in places. The bed was in the corner under more metal pieces. The sheets were moldy and the bed was damp. The reason was evident as a drop of rainwater hit her cheek.
         An hour later she was getting under the moth eaten covers and putting warm fuzzy socks on her feet. The bed was stiff and the mattress was thin, she could almost feel the wood on her back. As she turned over in bed a piece of plaster fell on my face.