A broken Swan Read online

  Chapter 1

  How do you recover from a tragedy? In a world so big, a person can feel insignificant and can go unnoticed. But in a small town, a person couldn’t hide from the world. The question is: who am I hiding from? I guess I’ll never know since I never really cared to answer the question myself. I guess in my own mind, I’m in a big world where I am insignificant and I go unnoticeable the way I want it. And that was fine with me. But since I live in a small town, I can’t hide from anyone, not even myself.

  In the town of Ithaca, PA, population holds less than 1,000, everyone knows everyone’s business. Crime level was low and anything out of the ordinary that happens makes it a big deal in Ithaca. That’s what happened to me. For a moment in my life, my heart stopped beating and I died. Although my heart began to beat again, it was no longer the same because during that night, my parents were the ones that died. And they never came back. They were killed by a man who saw revenge as his only answer.

  I was 14 years old at the time. On the night in the hospital where I laid half conscious, I remembered Uncle Robert and Aunt Helen murmuring to each other unaware that I heard what they said.

  “Robbie, oh Robbie, we have to protect her. We promised Simon and Alissa. We need to stay strong together for the sake of Odette and the children,” cried Aunt Helen.

  “He will come back again; you know that Helen, what happens when he comes for us? He almost killed Odette. He’s already killed Simon and Alissa. I don’t know what I’ll do if he comes for you, Charlie, Chelsea or Kevin. I didn’t mean for this to happen. Simon and I should’ve been more prepared!” choked Uncle Robert.

  More prepared how, I thought to myself. What were they talking about? I could hear Uncle Robert and Aunt Helen crying from a distance.

  “The cops are searching for him right now; I don’t think he’ll get away with it this time. He’s gone too far. I will make sure he gets put away for life,” Uncle Robert said in a furious whisper.

  And Uncle Robert was right. The man was found hiding out in an abandon warehouse on the edge of town. His name was Frank Boland. Frank Boland lived in the town next to ours. He was a sick, twisted man who loved beating his wife. He had an old fashion mind way of thinking where men were the dominance and a woman should always obey the man. His wife, Lucy Boland, was a gentle and quiet woman. One day after a heavy beating, she ended up in the hospital. It wasn’t the first time and it wasn’t going to be the last. She’d seen the hospital many times after plenty of beatings. It was Uncle Robert who responded to the call. He was a County Sheriff at the time. Uncle Robert had seen Mrs. Boland a couple of times after the incidents so he was the one to encourage Mrs. Boland to leave Frank Boland. He gave her dad’s card and told her that he would be able to help.

  Dad worked as the town lawyer. Even in the small town, dad was a great lawyer. He was tough, empathetic and worked hard at his job. After listening to Uncle Robert, Mrs. Boland decided that it was time to put an end to her husband’s immoral ways. Dad was able to help Mrs. Boland and was able to prosecute her husband and put him away in jail. But being a battered woman and still slowly healing, Mrs. Boland still loved her husband. Somehow her conscience got to her in the wrong way and began saying that it was part her fault too. Information that was presented during the trial could not put Mr. Boland away for long. He was charged with aggravated domestic violence for 2 years with 6 months of probation. As he was handcuffed and dragged away by the bailiff, he threatened my dad, “This is not over. When I get out, I will come for you and your precious family.”

  Dad took the threat seriously because it came with his job. He even inputted a security system into our house. With a press of a button, it was able to alert the police. He stored it in their bedroom and he stored one in mine. Mrs. Boland did move away. We never knew what happened to her. As for Mr. Boland, he was released after two years. With revenge on his mind, he managed to do what he promised my dad two years ago. He managed to break into the house at night when we were sleeping. I woke up to the sound of someone breaking a window downstairs. I was too scared and wanted to scream for my parents but it was too late. I heard the arguing and the shooting. I was too afraid to move. He shot my dad first. As my dad lay dying, he turned the gun on my mom and killed her too. How long he was watching our house, we never knew. He knew about me and where I was sleeping. I saw his dark shadow fill the doorway. He heard him pull the trigger and shot at me. I didn’t even feel the bullet as it penetrated my body. I just remember feeling weak. As I pretended to be dead, I heard his footsteps running down the stairs and run out of the house.

  I remember touching my chest and stared at my shaking hands. Blood, lots of blood. I heard myself wheezing, trying to catch my breath. I began to fade. I heard sirens and someone screaming into the house. The last thing I remembered was someone standing over me. It was Uncle Robert. Uncle Robert, older brother to my dad, whose job was to protect the innocence and put away the bad guys. He was a big man with a soft heart, just like my dad. But dad was the handsome one. They always teased each other, “Simon has the looks, but Robert has the heart.” That wasn’t true. The Callaghan brothers were all around good men.

  Uncle Roberts was pale and shaking as he bent down to pick me up so lightly while screaming for an ambulance.

  “Oh Odette, what did he do, what did he do to you honey?” he cried tearfully.

  I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out. I began to feel cold and weaker.

  I didn’t want to ask but I needed to know for my sake. “…Uncle Robert..” I whispered, “is daddy…mom… alive?” and tried to swallow but I couldn’t.

  I saw his eyes flick over to another officer in the room. I couldn’t see his answer but I saw the answer in Uncle Robert’s eyes. I knew in my heart they were dead. Tears began to slip from the corner of my eyes as I closed them. I knew my world was going to different from this moment. Who would’ve known that with one person’s action, the chain of destiny can change so many people’s lives. And as my heart began to break slowly, I saw darkness.

  Chapter 2

  How do you recovery from a tragedy? It’s been four years since that day and I still couldn’t answer that question. All I know is that I didn’t die, and that I almost died. Uncle Robert and Aunt Helen said my heart stop beating for almost a minute and the doctors had to revive me. It was only once. But once was enough, they had said. The bullet punctured my left lungs, only inches away from my heart. I lost a lot of blood and had to get a blood transfusion. They said it was a miracle. But miracles didn’t bring back my parents. I love Uncle Robert and Aunt Helen like my own parents. It just wasn’t the same. From that day on, I was more withdrawn. Psychiatrist explained to my aunt and uncle that it was my reaction to reality. I kept more to myself. It was uncomplicated, didn’t have to explain myself, and didn’t have to see pity in people’s eyes. I decided that day I would only let a few people get close to me. It was just easier to deal with. But then again, nothing is ever easy.

  I lived with Uncle Robert and Aunt Helen on their ranch. Mom and Dad didn’t want to live on the ranch because of their job so Uncle Robert and Aunt Helen took over. It was the Callaghan Ranch that had been in the family for years. The house was a beautiful two story house that was all white on the outside. It looked almost Victorian. It was a modern style. It had a wraparound porch that I loved because during the summer I would sit on the rocking chair just to listen to the crickets chirp. The land was wide and open. Trees filled the front of the house. The driveway was long path. We had apple trees and orange trees around. We had a big red barn in the backyard. Fences were posted around to keep in the animals in. There were horses, cows, chickens and all the typical ranch animals. Grandpa Charles and Grandma Susan decided to travel. When they did ta
ke breaks, they came back home. It would always be their home. They came home for the funeral. I remember Grandma Sue saying “Parents should never have to bury their children first.” They stayed long enough for as long as I needed them. Mom’s parents passed away years ago so I never got to know how they were as grandparents.

  My cousin Chelsea was a good friend. Sometimes she was a bit standoffish at times and I didn’t know why. She had things that I wish sometimes I had for myself. She and I were the opposite of each other, physically and in personality. She was outgoing and fun, while I was quiet and prefer to be by myself. I was always in my own thoughts while she spoke her thoughts out loud. She was pretty, tall, slender like a dancer with gray eye and blond hair like Aunt Helen. I was like my mom; short, curvy with long auburn curly hair and green eyes covered with glasses. After my parent’s murder, I recovered as quickly as I could. It took almost a year. I insisted with Uncle Roberts that I wanted to learn to protect myself. He argued stating that I was still too weak. But he understood that I needed to do it. So he took me to some of his self-defense classes that the Police Station held from time to time. I took him down most of the time even though he stood over a foot taller. I was never frilly like Chelsea. I preferred jeans over dresses, comfort over pretty things. I think Uncle Robert enjoyed having another person with similar interest like him around.

  Charlie and Kevin were other my cousins, and Chelsea’s brothers. Chelsea was the middle child. Charlie was two years older than me and was away at college. Chelsea and I were in our last year of high school. Kevin was two years younger than us, which put him in 10th grade. I was an only child. Mom had difficulty getting pregnant, and when they had me, they said I was a miracle baby. Although they tried for more, it never happened. They always told me, “Odette, you are enough for us.”

  I miss them every day. Almost every Sunday after church, I would visit their gravestones. I’d talk to them like they were still here; tell them about my week, and what I was feeling. I’d even read them one of my favorite books, Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. I loved the book. Who wouldn’t want to find their own Mr. Darcy? I read it at least over 100 times. Mom and dad always thought it was amusing because I would be sprawled on the floor, on the couch or on the balcony at home reading it quietly to myself and they could never find me. They said I reminded them like a quiet swan, floating softly in the water. They’d call me their swan princess. That’s why they named me Odette, after the story Swan Princess. I use to hate it because I always told them, “I don’t want to be a princess, just a swan.” They’d laugh at me and told me I’d always be their little swan princess. Dad said I was a quiet child who always had my head stuck in a book. He used to worry that I didn’t get enough interaction with other children but realized that I was my own person and that even at a young age I knew what I wanted. I think it frustrates Uncle Robert and Aunt Helen that I couldn’t open myself with them. I sometimes hear their conversations about me, Aunt Helen saying “she hasn’t been the same since that night” and I’d hear Uncle Robert argue back, “A person never completely recovers back from a tragedy, she must learn to live with it as best as she could like we are.”

  Learn to live with it. I hated that. I don’t want to live with it. I wanted to overcome it. I wanted to beat it. But Uncle Robert was right. I have to live with it. It was part of me, part of who I am. It was moving on that was even harder. I still had nightmares of that night, reliving it in my dreams. I’d wake up in a pool of my own sweat, scared that he was coming back to finish what he started. Although it was not as strong as it used to be, I still dreamed. I often wished that I died, but I knew that if my parents were here, they wouldn’t have wanted that. They would want me to live and be happy.

  I sometimes see my Uncle Robert staring at a photo of him and dad. I’d see a sad smile on his face as memories fill up his mind of the good times. All I could do is walk up to him and hug him. And every time I did, he would say, “I see your dad in you every day, I am so glad you are alive.” I’d smile a sad smile, but never cry. I knew that the last time I cried was in Uncle Robert’s arms the night of my parent’s murder. I haven’t cried since then, not even at their funeral.

  In a small town, I wanted blend in with the background. But it was impossible. Everyone knew what happened to me. I’d hear whispers about me “that poor child whose parents were murdered.” A lot of people thought I went mental because I barely talked to anyone. I kept to myself when I went into town. Go to the library and spend hours in there. I’d laugh about the rumors because I knew the truth about myself. I didn’t need to explain it to anyone else. Of course I kept to myself, what things did I need to say? There were times I did wish I had someone to talk to who understood me.

  Charlie was great to talk to but he had his own apartment and was away at college studying to be a lawyer like dad. He said that although his dad was a great Sheriff, he was more inspired by my dad’s career. That made Uncle Robert proud that Charlie wanted to be like his brother. Kevin was great to talk to also. While Charlie was the serious brother, Kevin proved to be the easy going one. But Kevin still had some growing up to do. He was such a joker and would seriously break some hearts with his flirtatious ways. He was such a sweetheart. He always knew when I needed a laugh or a smile.

  I didn’t really have any friends. Actually, I didn’t have any friends except my family. Ithaca High School only had a total of 200 students. Although it was still a small high school, it still had the typical high school clicks. The cheerleaders, the jocks, the nerds, the outcasts, which stated who was the popular ones and who wasn’t. There were still the cruel chicks and the bullies. I managed to not fall under any of the categories. Not like I tried to, it just happened that way. But that didn’t stop the cruel girls by making me a target of their jokes. Whenever that happened, all I did was give them a blank stare and walk away. Mom always told me that a person who is cruel is an insecure person. She said that if a person is ever says anything cruel to me; don’t ever say anything back because it wasn’t worth it. The better person will be the one walking away. I wanted my mom to be proud of me because I was always the one walking away.

  Mom had such a beautiful view in life. That’s why she was such a successful photographer. Alissa Callaghan. Her eye for beauty was remarkable. I took after her passion. I loved photography myself. I loved it so much that dad bought me my own camera. I still use it to this day. My favorite subjects were them of course. Each picture I took of them was always different, but it always spoke the same meaning: Love. I always told them I hope I will find true love like they found each other.

  They’d laugh and tell me “Of course the Swan Princess always finds her prince.” They said that I will know it when my time comes. But who would love an ugly duckling like me? I wasn’t beautiful and there wasn’t anything interesting about me. They always told me, “an ugly duckling became a beautiful swan remember. That means you have always been beautiful.” Any loving parent would say that to their child.

  It didn’t matter. Love was the last thing on my mind. It was getting through the day to day at school. I had this last year of high school to complete. I managed to catch up with the year I almost lost. I still managed to maintain great grades to get me to some colleges. But I chose to stay local. Chelsea always had difficulty in certain subjects in classes and I was always glad to help her. When senior year finally came, she had told me, “This year will be the best year for us, you’ll see.” I shook my head and smiled. What would be special this year? I was just happy to graduate from high school.

  Chelsea was never out of a date. She was popular and pretty. I never dated because I knew guys didn’t know what to think of me. I was Chelsea’s weird cousin. Chelsea was a cheerleader and was on the dance team. She danced beautifully. Her passion was to be a dancer. She was graceful, a Tuesday’s child. I should’ve been a Wednesday’s child because Wednesday’s children were full of Woe. But I was Monday’s child, fair of face, which was not me at all.
r />   But Chelsea wasn’t perfect. I wasn’t perfect. No one was really perfect. Dad use to tell me that Mom was perfect for him the first time he met her, and she was still perfect to him after years of marriage. “Love does that to you, “he said. But I’ve never met anyone I thought was perfect. That meant I have never been in love.

  But that all changed when Gabriel Ryan moved into town.

  Chapter 3

  First time I met Gabriel Ryan, it probably was the most unusual place to meet. It was a Sunday in September. School had started. Most Sunday’s I was at church and then after, went straight to the graveyard by my parent’s gravestones. I always drove my own car because I didn’t want to hold up Aunt Helen and Uncle Robert. It was the same routine, I’d touch their name on their gravestones and talk to them. If I didn’t talk, I’d just sit there in silence. I didn’t usually stay long but that day, I decided to.

  I looked across the graveyard and noticed a small group. Someone had passed away. It must have been services for Mr. Paul Ryan. In church we gave a prayer for him and his family. He was an outgoing old man who lived in the ranch next door. The Ryan’s Ranch. I often went over and brought food. He had a cook, Mrs. Wilburn. Some days she couldn’t cook for him because she went to babysit her grandkids in the next town over. He was a pleasant man to talk to, always had a story to tell. He liked me because I was always listening, never interrupting. He said “Kids these days are rude, back then kids had more respect.” But I heard he had passed away. He had been sick. I wanted to go to his service, but it was requested that it’d be family only.