Daddy Death

Chapter 11

When I wake up I’m aware of three things (Three being the magic number). One, Ray is gone; this troubles me a little more than it should. Two, the pain in my stomach has not lessened. At all, in any way. And three, I am in a room painted a ghastly shade of lavender. And I recognize it.

Gritting my teeth, I carefully move myself into a sitting position. It’s exactly as I left it, and I mean exactly. Fourteen year old clothes poke out of the open draws of my chest of drawers. Nail polish remover is uncapped on the vanity, a selection of coloured polishes lined up carefully next to it. Pictures adorn my walls. Me -hopelessly young in so many ways- laughing and smiling; I am completely oblivious to what I am. Shifting my feet to the floor, I let my soles revel in the softness of the carpet. For a moment I shut my eyes and try to remember what it was like to be this girl. I can’t. There are a collection of dresses littering the floor and I faintly recall desperately trying to find the perfect dress for my date.

It was my second date with Seth. There was no third. That would be because I killed him. I can almost imagine the scent of lilacs drifting in on late summer breezes, it was bliss.

I wonder why I’m here. And then I understand. Thanatos’ safe house isn’t safe anymore, so he let George take me here. If he thinks that they won’t find me he’s mistaken. Unless he can find a witch (yes they exist; have you ever heard of Circe, Medea?)  I doubt he’ll be able to hide me. The door opens quietly and I find myself face to face with Mike, my younger brother.

“Mike.” I whisper, and we just stare at each other, neither moving.

“Why’d you leave?” And his voice is so confused, and I can’t seem to lie to him.

“I can’t tell you.” Hurt clouds his face, but nothing I can say will make that better, especially not the truth.

“Dad and I were alone! You left us, and you weren’t even going to tell us you were back were you?” There’s an accusation in his voice and I can see that he already knows the answer. He gesture’s angrily at my wound. “We only found you because of that, not that you’ll tell me how you got it.”

“You’re so selfish! It would have been better if you had never come home.” He leaves my room, slamming the door.   

I sink back into my bed and close my eyes. I wish I could sink into the sheets and never get up. Just lie on this bed until I die and turn to dust so my dad can vacuum up my remains and dump them in the trash. I sit up abruptly and stand up. However much my stomach hurt from the movement it was better than that thought I had just had.

After rifling through my closet for about five seconds I see that everything is one, too small, two, too pink, and three, just disgustingly girly. After a moment’s thought I go to my mum’s room to see if she had anything that could fit me.

When I push the door open I immediately see that no one had been in here for a very long time. The room has obviously been cleaned after her death, everything was in its place, but there was a fine layer of dust that coated everything. I pad across the room and throw open her closet, revealing rows and rows of clothing. After a second I pull out sweatpants, which I roll at the waist, and an old t-shirt. When I inhale the scent of the fabric, it still smells a little like her. Fresh air and soap.

I wander downstairs, stopping periodically to gasp in agony and wallow in self pity. When I finally reach the kitchen I pause, hearing my brother and father arguing.

 “I don’t want her back.” It’s Mike. He and George are standing in the kitchen arguing in hushed voices.

“She’s your sister, and she’s welcome here any time.”