Black Blood

Prologue -- The Devil

        It began on a windy August night, when two thiefs broke in and raped my sister. Her screams echoed throughout the house, filling the cold space and my heart with dread. To this day, I could still remember her body lying on the kitchen floor, like a wounded angel surrounded by a halo of black blood.

        I’ve lost count on the days since her death. People whisper here and there, sending touches of consolation, but nothing could bring her back. I was lost in the dark with nothing to hold on. Death is a strange thing; you only miss them when they’re gone.

        The funeral was a crowded event, mostly celebrated by photographers and the press. The past month had been a huge publicity for my family, for it was a brutal and unsolved tragedy that had happened in the city for years. Ma clutched my hand as we walked towards the empty plot that would soon be my sister’s resting place. She didn't cry, which was good, but I knew it wouldn’t hold for long.

        I sat with numb ears as the priest told holy words to the crowd. My religious aunts have been visiting our house and begged God for the mercy of our family. Ma was too broken to refuse, and we prayed for countless hours every night. I never told them I didn’t believe in God. I would never put faith in someone who lets my sister die.

        “And now, we will hear from Scarlet, the dearest sister of Posie.” Father Rufus said. Everyone turned to me, and I rose from my bench, crunching the euology paper on my fist. As I walked to the podium, the photographers started snapping pictures of me, some even walked closer and started filming.

        It was a large funeral, almost a hundred in attendance, but I could only saw black dots of people. I focused my eyes on the farthest tombstone behind the news truck. “Posie.” I began, my voice crackling from the speakers.

        My palms were sweating, and my head felt so light, I was sure it could float any minute. Fortunately acting is my forte, something Posie had taught me to survive high school. “Posie.” I said again, louder. “She was annoying, stubborn, reckless, and a disgrace to the human race.”

        A lot of people drew a sharp breath. Even Ma looked at me with bulging eyes. I returned my gaze on the news truck. “She’s my sister. She’s the only person I shared my secrets. I can tell you she’s my best friend, but there’s more to her than that.”

        I couldn’t remember what I said onwards. I'm sure it was a lot of heart-touching stuff I had memorized beforehand. It must have been good, because people were clapping their hands with teary eyes when I finished. Some guests even whistled. The photographers became aggresive in snapping pictures, and soon the lights started to blind me.

        As I stepped down the podium, everyone reached out their hand, patting my back in a gesture of condolences. By the time I returned to my seat on the front row, Ma took me in her arms. She was sobbing again, but I didn’t care. “Whoever did this,” I whispered in her ear, “I swear I would never forgive them.”

        And I meant every single word.

       When the funeral finally ended, the press clamored for an exclusive interview with Ma. I slipped away before they notice, taking off my black heels and began running. I didn’t care about my dress, or my fallen hat, or my hair that started to break free from its neat bun. I ran until my feet hurt and my heart was about to burst. When I finally stopped by a large oak tree, I finally let the tears flowed.

        A few minutes passed before a voice greeted me, “She must have meant a lot to you.”

        I froze, then quickly wiped my tears. A tall man in his twenties was leaning against a tombstone. His messy black hair blocked the view to a pair of turquoise irises, which bore into me in an uncanny way. I didn't see him in the funeral, but I also seem to miss the whole guests.