Her scent

The Begining of the End

The smell of mulled wine lingering in the air, the touch of the cracked cheap leather and the harsh cloth beneath, the swift taste of blood that can still be sensed hours after eating that steak your mother so poorly cooks.

It's somewhere in the middle of December and it's snowing outside. The room is gloomy and quiet. All that can be heard is the wind outside and the wood in the fireplace burning. So quiet. And late.

"I must have spent decades in this chair" I say to myself while I stretch, judging by the pain in my bones "but how long has it been?"

I raise my eyes to the clock on the wall. It shows 3 AM. It is indeed late. I take a deep sigh. "I guess I lost track of time again." I think to myself. I close the book I was reading and put it slowly on the table near the fireplace.

I look towards the other armchair. A burst of compassion makes my heart flutter while I stare towards my sister, Amy, who is deeply asleep.

“Poor Amy… She seems so peaceful. She's been so excited about the surprise birthday party we had that she fell asleep in the armchair. She got completely wasted. I think I… Should I wake her up and put her in bed? The way she sits is so creepy it gives me the chills. I sometimes wonder how she can even contort her body like that. I'd better wake her up, that looks pretty painful. “

I rise to my feet. The smell of wet rotten wood planks invades my nostrils and for a moment collapsing to the ground feels like the most comforting choice, but I regain my balance and the illusion vanishes under the weight of my fatigue. Now I am crawling my way up to the armchair.

I slowly get close to her , patient not to creek the floor and startle her. I place my hand on her forehead and tuck a straw of hair behind her ear. She is a little bit cold. I pet her gently a little and run my hand along her face. I whisper her name softly. She doesn’t flinch. I let my hand fall onto her shoulder and I get to kiss her forehead. It wasn't my hand that was too hot, she feels indeed cold. I call her one more time. I catch her with my both arms and start shaking her a little while I keep on calling her. And louder, and louder. I start shaking her brutally and screaming for her name but nothing. I whiten and froze. She is still not waking up. She is not going to wake up. A tear runs down my face. A desperate scream bursts out of the bottom of my chest. She won't wake up and I start to acknowledge it. But it's hard to face the truth, isn't it? While shaking her, a red liquid starts pouring out of her mouth. Blood? No, it's not blood. More like... red wine. Could it be? I suddenly get up on my feet and get out of the room running to the table in the dining room. On the table there were plenty of glasses, all looking normal. I have a flashback with the party and all of us laughing. I check every glass on the table one more time. Worthless. Everything seemed clean. Except for one. One particular glass with a greenish liquid with a wine-like smell. This must be it. How did i miss it before? I carefully pick it up. Could it be poison? But why? And who? Who would do something like this? Maybe i still have a chance to get it out of her system, to make her throw it all up. I drop the glass and start running towards the room, smashing everything around me. Through my tears I only manage to wrong step and fall on the ground. A short moan comes out of my mouth but I shortly mute it and get back up as fast as I can.

By the time I reach the room, I realize it is way too late for it. I fall down on my knees in front of the armchair for a few seconds and cry silently. Wiping my face, I rise up and try to regain my balance, mostly the physical one. Thousands of thoughts start rushing through my head. I feel empty. Senseless. Numb. Just one thought was running through my mind: I will find out whoever did this and they will pay dearly.

***

It's been 3 months already and I still can't believe you are gone, Amy. Who am I supposed to trust if that person is not you? Who could I count on if not on you? And now? Now I have nobody left. It is so silent without you. I haven't even been to your funeral. I just couldn't. I knew I couldn't face all of them there and lose myself blaming everyone for what only I know... That it was not suicide. That one of them murdered you in cold blood.

I started playing in my head how it would have been if i were there. That day, everything felt wrong. The birds stopped chirping, the trees.. they've gotten a darker shade of hollowness upon them. Even the sun seemed like hiding to weep behind the clouds so that no one could see its pain. It almost felt like.. the end of hope. Or just the end. The setting? A complete charade. It was like a contest of "who can pretend better" amalgamated with "who cries the most or yells the most". They cannot and will never be able to understand why I was being so dramatic and simply wouldn't get over it, like they did. They will never understand how it feels to lose your other half, your light, the only thing between you and the darkness. Sometimes I too wonder as why I couldn't get past it but then I realize the reason why I do all of these and an icy feeling shakes down my spine while my blood starts to boil, stimulating my thirst for justice and my desire for revenge. That's right. I have to avenge you. You did not commit suicide and I will prove them wrong, all of them.