Lonely Castle

The day their world stood still

Not long before Garrick's sixth birthday, he and Ray had spent the day at The Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park with a few friends from pre-school, along with some of Ray's colleagues and their children.

Arriving home after what had been a pleasant, albeit exhausting day, Ray pushed open the door of their beautiful three-bedroom, two-bathroom home, only to be greeted by the sight of a half-decorated cake and party supplies scattered all over the lounge. But what troubled him even more than the mess was the eerie silence that enveloped the scene. Usually, there would be music playing, a TV on, or the sound of typing keys. But there was nothing, and nothing is never a sign of anything good.

"Mom," Garrick called out.

"Sum," Shouted Ray.

Their voices echoed, and unease seeped into Ray's soul as his eyes meticulously scanned his surroundings. Forcing a stillness into his heart and a smile onto his lips, he bent down to Rick's level. "Wait here a sec, Daddy has to go find Mummy," he said, giving Garrick's hand a gentle squeeze as he stood up and led him over to the large grey sectional.

Leaving the main living room, he walked out into the hallway and into the open-plan family room and kitchen. He had hated this room once, but Summer had argued that when they had children, they could watch them play while they cooked or washed dishes. The memory brought the briefest smile to his face.

Sighing, Ray made his way back out into the hallway and up the wooden stairs to the first floor, where their bedrooms were located.

Peering down the long hallway, unease once again burned through his veins. Everything was too quiet, too clean… cold… lifeless. As the thought settled into his mind, his feet stuttered, and his chest heaved; his heart pounded in his ears, and his legs became heavy. Each step felt as though he were moving through tar.

Reaching the end of the hallway, his eyes locked onto the semi-closed door, as though if he stared long enough or hard enough, he'd be able to see into the room.

Reaching for the doorknob, Ray took a deep, steadying breath. Stepping into the large family wet room, he felt the distinctive crunch of glass under his feet. Without having to look, Ray knew the large mirror that adorned the wall had been smashed to pieces. Moving further into the room, Ray could hear the slow trickle of water. She's in the shower, he thought, allowing a momentary wave of relief to wash over him. "Sum, are you in there?" he asked, his voice soft and low, placing his hands on the grey frosted glass. He ran his fingers over the eerie forest etchings.

Sliding open the door, his breath hitched in his throat, and he fell to his knees. Ray's body shook with grief and rage as he released a primal cry full of anguish.

"Oh God, Sum… No, y-you you can't… How c-could you leave US!" he all but whispered. As fat tears stained his face, he shakily reached out and touched her feet. After several minutes, he reached up and turned off the cold water. Slumping back, he sat opposite his wife's lifeless body. Even in death, covered in blood and cuts, she was still the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

*

Hearing his father's panicked cry, Garrick sprinted up the stairs as fast as his tiny legs could carry him.

"Dad… Daddy," shouted Garrick as he hurtled down the hallway towards the bathroom and a scene so ghastly his young mind would never allow him to forget.

"No Rick, don't come in here," shrieked Ray as he tried and failed to reach the door before Garrick could. Sweeping the boy into a tight embrace, he carried him away from the gruesome scene.

"Mama," Garrick sobbed, his small body convulsing with grief. Pulling him closer, Ray whispered calming words.

For weeks after 'The Event,' their family would be plastered across the tabloids and gossip rags, their personal life subject to public opinion. Ray would be labelled a caring father or a neglectful husband who failed to see his wife sinking into the depths of depression.

At the same time, Garrick would be pitied and constantly papped to feed the nation's hungry curiosity.

Her parents and friends would get their fifteen minutes and give interviews, often stating that they'd noticed she was acting 'off' or "if only they'd said something, she'd still be alive" seemed to be their favoured lines.

The truth is, none of them really noticed the changes in Summer—not her mother, who'd divorced her father, nor her father, who constantly pressured her to put the family business first. But if you looked closely enough at her last three books, it was plain to see that Summer had begun to unravel.

"In a house full of voices, silence can be the loudest companion."