Grave Lies

Disarming

"Certain loves, you don't cultivate them.They are like wild roses:they bloom rarely and keep you on the thorns."
Erin Doom


  I remembered her, Mom.

Frizzy hair and the scent of violets, gray eyes like the winter sea.
I remembered her because she had warm fingers and a kind smile, because she always made me hold the specimens she studied.
"Be gentle," she whispered in that memory, as a beautiful blue butterfly slipped from her hands into mine.
"It's about delicacy, Nica," she told me. "Delicacy, always... remember that."
I wanted to tell her that I believed in it.
That I had kept it inside me, a brick on which I had built my heart.
I wanted to tell her that I had always remembered it, even when the warmth of her hands faded and mine became filled with band-aids, the only color that remained.
Even when my nightmares were stained with the creaking of leather.
But in that moment...
I just wanted to tell Mom that sometimes, delicacy wasn't enough.
That people weren't all butterflies, and no matter how gently I handled them, they would never let themselves be treated with care. They would always leave me covered in bites and scratches, and I would end up filled with wounds I couldn't heal.
That was the truth.
In the darkness of my room, I felt like a forgotten doll. Empty gaze, arms wrapped around my knees.
The phone lit up again, but I didn't get up to answer. I didn't have the courage to read more.
I already knew what was written, the string of messages from Lionel was one accusation after another.
  Look at what he did.

I told him to stop.
He started it.
It's his fault.
He hit me for no reason.

 I remembered it, Mom.

Frizzy hair and the scent of violets, gray eyes like the winter sea.
I remembered her because she had warm fingers and a kind smile, because she always made me hold the specimens she studied.
"Be gentle," she whispered in that memory, as a beautiful blue butterfly slipped from her hands into mine.
"It's about delicacy, Nica," she told me. "Delicacy, always... remember that."
I wanted to tell her that I believed in it.
That I had kept it inside me, a brick on which I had built my heart.
I wanted to tell her that I had always remembered it, even when the warmth of her hands faded and mine became filled with band-aids, the only color that remained.
Even when my nightmares were stained with the creaking of leather.
But in that moment...
I just wanted to tell Mom that sometimes, delicacy wasn't enough.
That people weren't all butterflies, and no matter how gently I handled them, they would never let themselves be treated with care. They would always leave me covered in bites and scratches, and I would end up filled with wounds I couldn't heal.
That was the truth.
In the darkness of my room, I felt like a forgotten doll. Empty gaze, arms wrapped around my knees.
The phone lit up again, but I didn't get up to answer. I didn't have the courage to read more.
I already knew what was written, the string of messages from Lionel was one accusation after another.
I remembered it happening too many times, I didn't have the strength to doubt that it was true.
Rigel had always been like this.
Violent and cruel, that's how Peter had defined him. And no matter how hard I tried to fit him into those pages, he would never fit.
He would always overwhelm and annihilate me. And I would end up losing pieces of myself day after day.
In that moment, I wished Anna and Norman had never left; that Anna was there, telling me that nothing was irreparable...
It would have happened anyway, my thoughts whispered. Whether they had stayed or not... something would have broken eventually.
I emptied myself with a sigh. I swallowed and realized I was very thirsty.
I decided to get up. I had been there for hours now, it was late at night outside.
Before leaving, I made sure the hallway was empty; encountering Rigel was the last thing I wanted.
I descended the stairs in the dark; the moon shining beyond the clouds illuminated the outlines of the furniture and allowed me to move without difficulty.
I reached the ground floor, immersed in darkness. I was already in the kitchen when suddenly, I stumbled over something that almost made me fall. My breath escaped me. I grabbed onto the wall before hitting the ground and stared at the floor, blinking.
What...?
My fingers quickly found the switch.
The next instant, the light hurt my eyes. I inhaled sharply and instinctively stepped back.
Rigel lay sprawled on the floor, his hair scattered on the parquet.
His pale wrist stood out against the wood, and his face was covered by a fan of black locks. He didn't move. His motionless body struck me with such force that when I took another step back, my spine vibrated.
My mind went completely blank, my ears buzzed, and I became unable to even think. That sight clashed against the image I had of , his strength, his ferocity, his unwavering authority.
I stared at him with wide eyes, unable to make a sound.
It was Rigel.
There on the ground, motionless.
He was...
"Rigel," I whispered, struggling.
Suddenly, my heart pounded against my ribs, and reality crashed down on me all at once. A violent shiver shook me, breaking through my frozen state. I hurriedly took a breath, bending down beside him.
"Rigel," I whispered, and for the first time in my life, I realized I had a human being lying at my feet. My pupils darted across him, and my hands trembled, not knowing where to touch, where to rest.
Holy heaven, what had happened to him?
Panic overwhelmed me. A flurry of thoughts crowded my mind, and I stared at him with a tight breath and a feverish gaze.
What should I do?
What?
I brought my fingers close enough to barely touch his temple; I touched him with the tip of a band-aid, and I flinched.
He was burning. Heaven, Rigel was burning like a red-hot iron... I gave him one last look before rushing to the living room.

 I climbed up the armchair like a cat to reach the phone.