Lies Without Reflections

6. Chapter

For months the phone rang from time to time. He called, left a voicemail. I lost count of how many plates, mugs, glasses I've smashed throwing it at the machine spewing his voice at me. I couldn't pick it up. The door was open. I made it that way wedging my heel into the ground to keep it from ever closing.

Of course my tenacious relatives never gave up the struggle in their good intentions either. For endless nights I anticipated their appearance at the most uncomfortable moment—when I happened to be elsewhere.

“I told you we're fine without your...” Meddling, or any sort of mediocre interference “supervision”

My godmother's voice was hoarse channelled by the unreliable connection.

“My dear it is not that you need it. It is simply that I want to unburden you. No young girl should star as a parent, not at your age definitely. Your only and biggest concern should be your education, to focus on your—”

“Yes, thank you we've been managing quite alright for the last couple of...” I didn't keep track of time “I didn't need your help so far. What makes you think I do now?”

The question running rounds in my mind was ‘why now b***h?’. Indeed, why.

“What makes you think you don't? Look, I only want to help you darling.”

“You could start that by not insulting me” I advised.

“I won't have your-Jesus, you little prat” she shouted losing her temper, then after a buzzing pause she cooled down and added “I know you miss them...”

“You have no idea”

“I miss them too, honey. Wouldn't it be better for you to grieve without the burden of having to take care of your sister?”

“Do you think that's a burden to me?” I needed a point like this, where I could twist her words, turn them against her.

“I love my sister it would never be a burden to look after her. If it is to you and it is your opinion than you're more unwelcome here than ever. What you're welcome to do is to stay put and mind your own f*****g business”

“That's enough” her tone was final “We get the earliest flight tomorrow. I don't care what you think. A hormone-biased little slut won't tell me what to do”

“You're talking to your deceased sister’s daughter. You forgot that” I felt the icy rage well up “Quit it. How many times did you tell me you’ll hop on the next plane and never got here? And they weren’t dead then. How many? Don’t you dare f*****g come here” I muttered something that sounded very much like ‘what a piece of s**t’ into the phone.

“I'm her sister. So shut up you spoilt brat and let the adults do what they have to”

“You're free to do whatever. Except from coming here. Don't come here”

That was a well-addressed threat she received with a cryptic silence.

“I see you tomorrow”

She hung up.

“Not” I said to the frigid air seeping in from the garden “You better hope you don’t you stupid f**k” I muttered walking upstairs, putting the cigarette out on the banister, drawing a charred line on the tinted wood.

“Does that mean that I can skip school?”

She was obviously delighted. I realized how she must've been yearning for human contact. I haven't allowed for a terrible amount of visitors... I mean, friends in the house. Of course she cheered upon hearing some other human being intruding the solace of the house apart from me.

“Listen not tomorrow but” I raised an index finger haltingly “I promise next week you can have two days off. Deal?”

“Why can't I have it now? Do you not want me to meet her?”

Frankly? Hell no.

“Look missy I'm asking you nicely not to keep nagging me about this. It's not that I don't want you to meet her. It's that she said I should not bother you when you're in school. It was her request”

I earned a squint of suspicious disbelief on her behalf.

“I know you're lying but if I figure out that is true” she leaned closer “I will lick your forehead”

I couldn't help but smile.

“Okay mini-minx” putting a hand on her head tousling her locks. She shoved my hand away with an indignant grunt and stalked off to have a fruit juice. If she went on like this I had to find a dentist that worked after dark she would have so many cavities.

The routine was to get her to school before the first ray of sunlight touched the evergreen grass in the garden. I was guilty of not going out with her enough. I was so stupid to send him away. Maybe, just maybe it won't be such a horrible idea to have someone here. I might even forge an advantage of her arrival if it was bound to happen.

Which thank the heavens happened in the middle of the night. I was busy sitting on the windowsill in my parent’s room, facing the full moon, listening to the permanent quiet I brought to the world with my presence. I never knew I could wonder at the perfect darkness so thoroughly. I felt the silky shadows move under my skin before they shifted, the leaf fall from the tree tired, tired like me. And I envied it. Envied the night for being so alive and so still at the same time, I envied it for the escape dawn regaled the darkness with, for the black peace that was stolen from me.

At around three in the morning when the birds should've started their early conversations I heard the screech and rev of engine and tyres.

An uncomfortably fast drumming joined the one lazily beating in the house.

“Come in” I invited, before she rapped a droning pattern on the door that would raise even the dead “It's open”

I saw the inky copy of her hand fall on the knob and turn it. The image of my mother blew me back into the kitchen leaving my stomach behind in the hall. Great, Mallory now you're not just mentally insane now you're seeing ghosts. What's next? Zombie apocalypse? Most likely.

“Fancy a drag?” I said extending the smoking cigarette to her I had been consuming since I put my sister to sleep so it piled in an ash-crusted heap next to me somehow shirking from staying in the ashtray.

My mother's eyes slanted into slits in my aunt's face and I wanted to slap her for the resemblance she bore. My palm itched to press the blazing, orange end of the cigarette into her cheek to check if she was real or a trick of my imagination. It cost me a considerable amount of restraint to lean back and take a long drag instead with a shaky hand.

“Why are you still up?”

Polite as ever.

“Well, someone had to allow you in, right? I'm not leaving the front door unlocked just because you feel like breezing in at three in the morning”

She jutted a chin at my hand, holding the cigarette.

“You know what that did to your grandfather”

“Well yeah” I scoffed “good for him. Bloody bastard” I muttered. He could plummet into the abyss without consequences when he was bored of this world, of its pain, of its filth and mediocrity. I had no choice but to remain chained to the Promethean fate of being shackled forever so close to the edge of chaos that tempts me with its irresistible allure. Pity my bounds allow for too short a step.

“Is she asleep?” She ignored my mumbling but I saw the light flash in my mother's eyes with a warning.

I raised an eyebrow.

“Can I come in or should I sleep on the doormat?”

I peeped around her to examine it.

“Seems like a choice” I said with a wooden face.

“Mallory” her voice suddenly tired“ Can we not have a row now? I had a long flight I have a horrible jetlag. Please, let me catch up on sleep. You can have your infantile go at me in the morning”

A slow drag, the ticking of the delayed clock next door. The wisps curled in surreal patterns embroidering the grey night air. The battle of the stares was a mental arm-wrestling, ending with an unsatisfactory stalemate.

Having enough of my daring silence she pushed past me on the stairs and hoisted her sizable luggage after her sizable self.

“I told you not to come here”

I addressed the enveloping blackness not caring whether it reached her ears.

When I heard the sound of the zip I appeared upstairs. Of course she started putting up a tent in my parent's room.

“You can't be serious”

She jumped with a start at my voice. She glanced at the wood-boards then returned to her unpacking.

“Don't sneak up on me like that” she advised “What are you talking about?”

I walked over soundlessly clamping a hand over the top of her suitcase slamming it shut almost on her fingers.

“No one sleeps here”

She regarded me with an astonished look then gave me the no-nonsense glare.

“Don't be ridiculous, Mallory”

Don't tell me what to do, b***h.

“You know this is still very much my house. I'd love you to respect its rules since you're an uninvited...guest” I filtered that last word through clenched teeth“ You have absolutely no say in where we spend our night-time activities”

For about two whole seconds she looked like she's going to blow up with rage at my mouthing. Instead she just exhaled the huge breath she sucked in for the rant.

“Alright. Where can I unpack then?”

I bit down on a mocking smile.

“Wherever. Just not here”

I locked all the doors so she couldn't camp in any of the rooms. Other than the hall or the stairs. She stomped downstairs then came prancing up again.

Her eyes widened in rage just like my mother's. It twisted the gruesome smile off my face. They will never leave. The imprints of them would morph off the walls to stand before us like ethereal phantoms of the bygones. And I would suffocate here slowly drowning in dust and darkness between the four walls.

“You little s**t! Open them! I know you have the keys!”

I backed away like the petulant child I was, grinning like Lucifer before his fall.

“I told you not to come here” I chuckled nervously. When I was a normal teenager for the last time was lost to remembrance. Then I shrank a bit in size under her authority. I chalked it up to her uncanny similarity to my mother. In life I moaned back a thousand times without remorse, in death I couldn't bear to disobey her likeness. For a moment I felt the relief of carelessness again, the reckless irresponsibility fused my veins into fire again, my heart almost throbbed a delayed beat again.

“Give me the keys, Mallory. Now” she demanded, the adamance of thunder evident in her. Her palm validated the request with its welcoming openness.

Her thinness was just like tracing paper, transparent, her discipline a facade of well-practiced mannerisms. Intuition, the reflex muscle of the predator whispered with unwavering certainty that she was as broken and burdened as anyone. That she was a masquerade in one person. A cheat, a liar, disillusioned by bereavement, damned by loss and heartache.

The blood in her possessed me. Clung to me, the only being that heard its song. As inviting and warm as the extended hand demanding.

“Let's not wake her up shall we? After all she's gotta go to school tomorrow” I whispered, mockery radiating off my tone.

“You will not speak to me like that!”

“If you can't handle it you're more than welcome to go the f**k home”

“Do you honestly think you're able to handle all this?”

“Can you?”

“My sister would be ashamed of what's become of you, you miserable cunt!”

“I might be a miserable cunt but I at least had enough dignity not to crawl on the floor when they died seeking for comfort in anyone who had something I didn't”

I had gone way below the belt. Maybe I should aim even lower.

Her eyes beaded with mortification. We both crossed so many lines there was no return.

She swung her arm to slap me. So fast, my reeling mind failed to comprehend, I caught the arm.

“You have the least right to come here and lecture me about how incapable I am. You weren't equipped to bear the burdens yourself. You're inept as a mother, as sister—a human being. You're a failure. How do you have the nerve to look me in the eye and tell me I'm not good enough for her? Why would you even try and parent us in their stead when you can't deal with your own life? You're running and yet you think I'm the child who needs help. I'm still here“

My anger lessened my voice into a wrathful hiss, eyes swimming in tears. What a great actress, what a terrible facade. Like the picture of an airbrushed person, if you took a step towards her you could see the smudged mascara, the creased foundation buried into her wrinkles, the rippling edge of the lipstick on the rim of her mouth. From up close, perfection was elusive. A fake, plaintive, photoshopped image that wore my name, that was I.

“You're not the only one who lost her" she screamed back at me, clawing at her eyes with her nails with both hands, looking like a Munch piece ”Do-do you think it's only you?”

I heard my sister stir and turn.

“You didn't give a s**t about her after she helped you get your perfect life” I snapped back still holding her hand clutching it, holding onto it. Letting the blood pulsate through, reverberate along my skin arriving at my chest slowly igniting all my nerves with hot, unquenchable need.

“We grew up together? She was my little sister” her eyes swam in an ocean of tears“ Don't judge my grief just because it's different than yours”

“You're not grieving. You're feeling bloody sorry for yourself! Why now, huh? After all this time, now you felt obliged to mess with our lives? Why?”

No noble cause backed her arrival up. Selfishness, as it seemed ran in the family and spread like a disease.

She lifted her hand away from my grasp and ran it down the side of my face. I turned my cheek away in disgust.

“I miss her...so much” she whispered shakily. I saw her heart breaking; I heard the pieces scatter on the ground anew.

The torture of having her so close yet in an inaccessible distance was unspeakable. That dull consistent ache burnt as I looked at the living copy of my mother and forsaken all that was holy for leaving me with a vile knockoff while I preferred brand quality.

Tear away the illusion - one of the things that still glued me into cohesion.

She fessed up, wiping a tear away “I couldn't face her death any more than I could with— I couldn't come. Coming meant it was true and there was no way it could be true, no way” she shook her head fixing the floor “I knew you needed me but I needed someone as well”

She covered her mouth with a palm and wept a single sob into it, soundlessly.

“What made you think I wanted to face it? What made you think that I could live with the truth? Alone with the truth?” I bellowed as I let my rage drip through the crack in the dam, drop by drop increasing, like the dose of the infusion portioned in small measures.

“I wanted the luxury you had until you had come here. I wanted a choice, too! I deserved the comfort of not having to believe the rumors if I didn't want to! I deserved the privilege of distance, the vagueness of the news! I deserved it! Not you! Not. You”

She sobbed on.

“I only came because I thought grief is easier shared” she said in a plaintive tone. She must've been right about that. If there wasn't anyone who you wished to share it with it wasn't true. However I knew it wasn’t the reason she was here.

“How had you planned on doing it?”

“Mallory” her voice was pleading “Why do you find joy in doing this?”

After a quick smile I realized her question was genuine.

What else would I find joy in? On the list of the mortal sufferings, I plummeted to the point of the orphans turned monsters that could be found somewhere at the bottom of the scroll. The only joy I could have is torturing those situated below me on that list.

“You have this on repeat don't you?”

“For the love of God” she sprang away from me, stalked to the door than came back and flung her arms around me. How desperately melodramatic… As if she wanted to convince me of something. Probably the purity of her intent. Original.

The smell of saltwater and sweat and perfume embraced me, spiked with the luring fragrance of sweet, luscious blood running under the warm skin.

“I'm so sorry” she mumbled into my shoulder squeezing me closer. I barely registered it. This close the world blocked out, the song shouted its words in my ear, the sounds dissipating into my veins. Burning need spread out into my limbs, electric and invigorating and I listened, listened carefully to the delicious drumming beneath the pale layers of skin and flesh. When the craving reached my fingertips I became deaf by the screams of her heartbeat. It assumed its death.

Sweeping the hair out of the way I nuzzled the scented neck, brushed my lips lightly against the skin. Yes, she deserves this.

A hand clamped on her mouth.

Teeth sinking into layers and layers and layers of skin.

The burst of blood on my tongue, thick, a claret.

The flail of life on her end.

A theft of nows on my part.

After the frenzy laced its fingers around the soul that I didn't have there was no reason, no arguing, no pleading. It was a universal need above everything. I could only describe it palpably that the craving, the hunger took control erased the human laws of existence, perseverance, rewrote all the normal cognitive, primordial instincts zooming in on a singular desire. You'd shove yourself in front of a bullet if the person who got the gun was bleeding. The feral, Jungian shadow reined at those moments.

Sometimes then I feared that it would find the throne too comfortable and would nest there for good. I didn't want to drown in blood as a primitive animal. The picture of me coated in dripping red walking down the street a snarl erupting from my throat, eyes empty and glacial, bereft of intelligence, groaning in my voracious need—all part of a haunting image painted on my grave.

Dancing back and forth I eased her onto the ground. Despite her volume she wasn't heavy in my arms. I wiped a hand over my mouth licking off the last drips of blood from my hand.

Spots covered me, the door, the bed, the cupboard in sporadic patterns. The holy room of my parents was defiled by this filth - this delicious, delicious filth.

Sighing I went to open the windows; cleansing started with getting rid of the smell of spillled life. The metallic stench and the sickeningly sweet warm scent of the blood mixed in my mind constantly replacing each other as the night air carried both out into the briny dark.

As I turned to fetch the bleach I took in her body lying on the ground.

Envy shook my chest so hard I felt my heart pound at my ribs and my spine too. She could rest. No more hassle with the sick husband, the kids back home, no dalliance with grief over the lost. She was one of them now, a prisoner of the ghosts rowed behind me, one that made every step heavier to tread.

I let myself drop to my knees and although it was a small distance to fall it seemed like a never ending horrible plummet, a free fall when you leave your insides behind, lose control over your body and dive into the screaming uncertainty gaping below. Only once I felt this way before, when I fulfilled my long-desired wish to go on the tallest of rollercoasters in the town's adventure park. The ride dragged up, the seats traveling upwards perpendicular to the rails beneath the cars, the world toppled into a strange neck-breaking image. The peak came slowly, decelerating before it hurled us all over, plastering our backs into the hard leather of the seats. The rush knocked the breath out of me and I became weightless, a plastic bag with a yawn torn into its middle, carried by nothing but the wind. I joked about it afterwards that for a complete 3 minutes you have a constant and definite conviction that you were going to die.

Well, it was like that. Apart from the part where I thought I came to my merry end.

I let myself feel all the things I had to be hard for.

The devastation I shut out tumbled onto me with the force of a tsunami. I missed them. I detested forsaking their creation, thinking of how I became a monster when they raised a daughter for themselves. I could never follow them and emptiness was their heritage. No one would've eased my pain, for the ones causing it were only capable of bringing the remedy locking me in a vicious circle. Only death was absolution.

I woke from the daze I mocked sleep - I screamed for them. Screamed because there was nothing else I could do. Because screaming was as effective as anything else. I hated them for leaving behind only their vile copies, footprints in the sand wiped away by the cruelty of waking.

That dull ache of not having them will fizzle out. I hated that they were slipping through my fingers while my wrists were bound and I couldn't do a thing to save them from going, the pain for it would abandon me sooner or later following my shadow and my reflection. Its redness would fade and there would be nothing to illuminate the darkness before me, nothing to prevent it from engulfing me, consuming me.