A Taste of Bitter

Chapter 2 - Guilty and Blinded

The front door burst open and two drunk boys stumbled into the house, laughing like madmen.

"Did you see the look on his face?!" Eliot's voice slurred.

Greyson was leaning heavily against him, swinging his beer bottle around, sloshing alcohol all over the kitchen tiles.

"I know! He was all 'What'chu think you doin?' and I was like siiiiiiirrrrrr..."

Greyson and Eliot collapsed onto the hard white leather couch of the penthouse in a fit of laughter. The New Year's party in Hyde Ridge had lived up to expectations, and more so.

The penthouse was home to the wealthy Quinn family, Grey's home, and held every treasure of his family's. Some might say they were a tad eccentric.

A running theme in the house was white, red and black. Polished black marble floors. Plush white carpets and furniture. Red roses. Red curtains.

Since it was a penthouse, there were windows everywhere looking out over Venus City, USA.

There were spiral stairs at the far end of the living room that led up to Greyson's parents room and their offices. To the right, a long hall led to guest rooms and, more importantly, Grey and Arlese's rooms.

A picture of his sister, dressed up in her white and blue Hastings Institute uniform, smiled down at him from the mantle over the fireplace. 

He groaned as it clicked somewhere in his hazy mind that he was supposed to check on his little sister. Taking another swig of beer, he stood, chucking the bottle at Eliot.

"Gotta go see A. Be back." He yawned.

Eliot reclined against the couch, closing his hazy green and blue eyes. "She here?"

Grey grunted in reply as he headed down the hall.

"Hey, Arly!" He barked.

No answer. A strange feeling creeped across Greyson's skin, but he shook it off with a vengeance, his head already starting to hurt. He frowned, feeling a bit cheated since he wasn't drunk enough. Hangovers always were the worst of buzz kills.

He reached for the knob on Arlese's sticker-infested door. As his fingers closed around the cool metal, a shiver ran down the boy's back. "Arlese? You in here?"

The door creaked open, and Greyson stepped inside. If he'd thought it was cold out in the hall, it was numbing in here. He shuddered, rubbing his arms for warmth. "Arlese?"

The usually brightly lit room was pitch back, Arlese's sky blue curtains drawn, casting a sliver of the pale city lights across the green carpet on the floor. Fear crept up the boy's spine, though he wasn't at all sure why. Something that felt like wet cement had settled in the pit of his stomach.  "Look, Arly, this isn't funny..."

Greyson squinted in the dark, his eyesight hazy and unfocused from the alcohol. What was with her toni-

He took another step forward, and was suddenly hit with a wall of a sharp, coppery smell that sent the hairs on the back of his neck prickling. Greyson gagged, covering his mouth, panic rising like a hot fire burning in his chest.

"Arlese? Arlese, where are you?" Greyson hurried farther into his sister's large bedroom...

Then the toe of his boot hit something soft. Grey froze in his tracks, and despite the heated anxiety in his chest, frost seemed to crawl across his skin, spreading like an icy wildfire, seeping down to his  bones and sobering him up in an instant.

In the dim light, with fuzzy vision, Grey could just barely make the outline of something sprawled out in front of him, it's arms spread out wide on the cold marble floor, the bangles on it's wrist glinting faintly of multicolors...

Arlese. 

A piercing cry unlike anything he'd ever heard ripped through his chest and escaped his lips and he bolted for the lightswitch, screaming incoherently at Eliot. As the blinding overhead light flashed on, Greyson heard a slam, Eliot yelp and then the sound of darting footsteps.

But all that was drowned out by the rushing roar of blood thrumming in his ears.

Strewn across the ground, as lax as the rag dolls she used to play with, was Arlese, her curls splayed out around her china-pale face, her body, aqua tee and navy blue jeans, soaked in blood, a crimson pool beneath her, trickling across the black marble floor, soaking into her green carpet and curls. Her light green eyes were glazed over, staring unblinking at the ceiling above her. Her lips were ash-white, and there was no color to her usual rosy cheeks. A long, nasty red gash was slashed through her front, starting at the brink of her collar bone, cutting down straight through her middle and coming to a stop at the bottom of her stomach. Blood was streaming out.

The rushing in Greyson's ears came to a height as he stared, his mouth open in a silent scream of sheer terror, his whole body rigid in horror.

Then Eliot was there, screaming, dropping to his knees beside Arlese. He was shouting, yelling something to Greyson, his eyes wide in horror, fear, panic-stricken, but his words fell on deaf ears. Greyson stumbled back, hitting the wall behind him. His legs buckled beneath him, and the boy slid to the floor.

And suddenly Eliot's face was in front of his, shaking his shoulders and shouting hysterically. "Grey! Greyson!"

He finally realized Greyson wasn't listening. Greyson couldn't hear. All he could see was the crumpled form of his baby sister. 

Eliot fumbled in his pocket for his cellphone, his eyes stinging and red. He couln't bear to look back. Even as he knew this, it was hopeless. The sight of her lifeless body was seared into the back of his eyelids like a permanent scar. The sharp, rusty, salty smell of blood choked the air, filling his nostrils and making his stomach churn. With shaking hands, he swallowed back the bout of nausea and stumbled over the buttons, typing 9-1-1.

It rang only once.

Meanwhile, this proved too much for Greyson. He bolted up and out of the room, tripping over himself and collapsing in the marble hallway. He keeled over, retching, the alcohol burning as it rose in his throat, the beer and tequila from the party coming back with a vengeance, his body shaking uncontrollably.

Breathing heavy, the boy stood, his mind blank as he staggered back through the doorway. Eliot was still holding the phone, his eyes hollow and shiny, his knees, hands and arms covered in blood where he now sat at Arlese's side.

And it was here that her words echoed, like that of a ghost whispering in Greyson's ear,

You know, one of these days, I'm not gonna be here. I bet you'll miss me then.

We'll see about that.

Greyson stumbled over to Arlese. Eliot was saying something, shaking his head, yelling at Greyson to stay back, stop looking-

Abruptly, the sound of glass shattering pierced their ears and a blazing light erupted from the window behind Arlese, engulfing the room in a blinding white glow. Greyson and Eliot yelped as they were thrown back by a blast of cold air, sliding across the marble floor.

It was Eliot who, in a daze, looked up, squinting through the light. And what he saw was mind-numbing.

Though everything was fuzzy, he could make out the figure of someone, outlined and shadowed by the light -a man, it seemed- walking as if on air, through the glow.

The shadow bent over and, in one swift movement, lifted Arlese's lifeless body off the ground and cradled her in his arms. Somewhere in Eliot's mind, it clicked. He's taking Arlese.

 Eliot let out a cry of protest and moved to stop the man, but it was like moving through molasses; so incredibly slow.

The figure didn't even look back. The last thing Eliot saw before the light faded, was the retreating back of the shadow thief, and Arlese's small hand dangling from his arms. The light flashed, and the room went dark, as shell-shocked silence followed.