𝑇𝐻𝑅𝐸𝐸 𝐷𝐸𝑀𝑂𝑁𝑆

x 36 x

x DEMON x

I'm a killer.

I killed Synara. I destroyed a piece of Devana. And I'll forever leave a damp mark on this time of Laura's life. Soaked through the paper of memories Laura had already documented on; Synara's death forever spilled ink, and whoever reads that paper next won't be able to discern her words.

This is all my fault.

"Khloe."

As I walked past Laura's room with my parents, I heard her soft voice again. Should I pretend I didn't hear her, or just keep going? I can't stop myself from glancing towards her darker room, her little head propped up on firm pillows in the bed.

I've done enough hurting this year.

I keep walking, trying to force every memory with my best friends and Laura out of my head. The good memories, the bad memories, my regrets, moments that I told myself I'd never forget. Someone like me doesn't deserve to love life anymore after this.

Not this demon.

"You wanna tell me the full story of what went down tonight?" my mother asked me. We were sitting in her office back home. My father was asleep because he had a big stock deal to close the next morning. Fortunately, my mother was saving me from having to face school tomorrow. I wonder if Synara and Laura were awarded the same understanding.

I looked at my mother's rug. A spill of colors that reminded me of a fusion of wines. Everything about my mother was expensive and refined, I remember growing up knowing exactly the type of woman I wanted. A woman like my mother, in a sense. Then I remembered that with women like her came harder things. High expectations, control, et cetera. She was the true definition of a rich bitch. She never settled for less and knew her worth. She also wasn't the type to sugar coat shit and was as blunt as a butter knife.

In a way, that definition reminds me of Laura, but without the money. Judging Synara's character and Devana's, I honestly don't know how I had found myself tangled up with the two. Looking back on our shared past, we were each worlds away from one another. Different planets away from the lives we wanted to live.

"Khloe?"

My eyes snapped up to my mother's. She was never warm or comforting to me- that came rarely. Her deep brown eyes reminded me of a snake's and a dabble of a fox's. She was sharp minded and knew how to get what she wanted out of this easily molded world. But she also had wisdom.

She also had a daughter.

All her ways seemed to have poured down into me when her and my father decided they wanted a child.

Except the wisdom.

"I'm not a good person," I finally broke down in front of her. Layers of myself peeling away like an onion. I had never been bare before another person. Not even myself sometimes. I was always afraid of what everyone else would see. I always felt not entirely human- I always felt disconnected, I always felt broken. But then, to be broken, when was this girl ever fixed?

I feel part of my nickname, along with some of my harsher actions, came from the way I related to people. Beneath me, dumb, naive, that's how I saw the world, even if I was some of those things at one point or another. My way of thinking had been so Machiavellian for some time that when I saw good, when I saw right, it just made me feel even more like an outsider.

I'm my mother's daughter. For years, she had always told me she would accept me the way that I was. If I ever got into trouble, she would have my back. But once she sees that I'm not quite the girl she always thought me to be...will she still love me?

Or will she realize that I'm truly a monster in the clearest sense?

"Khloe," she repeated my name.

She wrapped her arms around me, after coming around her large desk cluttered with boring business books and old coffee cups she had decorated. She smelled like the crispness of winter and something deeply sweet. I missed her familiar scent giving me long hugs in my childhood, when each day felt like a long summer evening without the fun. When her face was younger and she still seemed to have hope for the world's future, and hope in the outcome of our life as a family.

Yes, our wealth grew, but the happiness was sucked out of all of us. Day by day, our interactions fell more so into routine. I saw my parents less, they covered the trouble I was in; they left me money and didn't care to ask what I spent it on. Day by day, we drifted apart in the same household- like a flood of water had swept through our front door and was streaming towards our back one. Nobody cared to fight against the tides anymore when we had to swim outside in the big world. Our energy was spent. No one cared.

"This is all my fault," I whispered into her shoulder, shuddering against her skin and bones as I squeezed my stinging eyes shut.

"Talk to me. Talk to me," she mumbled.

"Synara loved me and I couldn't give her that love back. Now she's dead because I couldn't- I couldn't-

The truth seemed to hit me in a surge.

Someone I had grown with was going to die. And everyone would blame me and-

"It's not your fault," my mom whispered.

I pulled back from her, my nails digging into my arm as I fought to feel anything on me was real. "It is. I'm not the daughter you know. I'm not sweet or kind."

My mother chuckled, a tired expression on her face. "No one in this world can be, Khloe. And of course I would know that by now, who do you think cleans up your mess all the time?"

"I pushed her to her death," I whisper, pacing around her office. "That's what Devana basically said."

"Did you really push Synara to her death? Or is Devana just in a place of hurt right now?" my mother cocked her head, questioning me.

"It's true though. If I had just loved Synara-

"So you if you had the chance to redo this all, knowing all that you know now, you would have been with her and been unhappy when you love that other girl in the hospital, just so Synara wouldn't have died? Just so you could be friends with Devana when obviously your friendship wasn't much of anything this whole time?"

I paused, staring at my mother with wet eyes.

"I've noticed the changes in your friendship, the times when I am home. But I knew you had to learn. If I pointed out all the bad friends or the people you're drifting away from, you would never be able to figure out this world or the people that's in it. A fake friend from a real friend. Yes, I saw Devana was starting not to feel you as much, friend wise, but did I say anything, no. She's your friend, not mine. And yes, I see the chemistry between Laurel or whatever the hell your friend's name is and you. So would you have rather kept up a life that wasn't taking you anywhere, or start this new one?"

I opened my mouth but found myself closing it.

"I can't lie to you and say that Synara is probably going to a better place. You know my faith, and according to what I know, she's going to Hell. Not only is she a lesbian, she committed suicide. If she survives, well then, I guess that will be its own thing, but chances are likely that she won't."

"Why can't you just comfort me? Maybe sometimes I don't wanna hear the truth," I turned towards the door, wiping away streaming tears. I felt inadequate and small and childish for the way that I was acting.

"If I did that, then you'd just be an ignorant fool. You're my daughter. Not anyone else's." She didn't run after me. She didn't hug me again. She didn't soften her tone. She closed her office door behind me and left me in the hallway, our house silent except for the soft snores of my father and the occasional sound of a vehicle passing by along the road.

If I couldn't see what Synara felt for me, what she was going to do to herself, then maybe I am an ignorant fool.

A deep feeling of sadness slowly passed through me.

Suicide had never looked so appealing to me before.