He Took Me in the Night

Chapter II: Farewelled

“Despair has its own calms.” -Bram Stoker, Dracula

Chapter II: Farewelled

I can feel the pain of losing Erik burning a hole in my heart as I fasten the locket to my neck. The dull ache inside my chest causes me to slide down the front door, my arms wrapped around my body to keep myself from breaking apart. Tears fall from my eyes and pass down my crimson cheeks silently. A sob builds in my throat, but I choke it down before it can break free.

It’s excruciatingly hard to accept that Erik can no longer be a part of my life. We’ve always been best friends, growing up together and facing the world as a unified front. His hugs are better than any teddy bear’s and his dazzling smile is incredibly infectious. I can be myself completely around Erik and it’s as easy as breathing talking to him.

Sometimes I wonder what would become of my life if I had a choice. Erik and I were so compatible that we could have fallen in love, raised a family and eventually grown old together. A small part of me once yearned for our perfect future, but that small part of me died when I said goodbye to him, and so did my last shred of hope.

“Please don’t cry,” a little voice begs softly.

I look up from the floorboards and meet the sky blue eyes of my little sister. Thick, brown ringlets frame her sweet face and her faded pink nightie hangs loosely from her small form. Her eyebrows are pulled down into a worried line and she pouts slightly as she stares down at me.

She’s holding our cat Nala tightly to her chest, purring softly in her sleep. Violet comes to occupy the empty space beside me and she entwines her small fingers through mine.

“Why are you so sad?” Violet asks gently, squeezing my hand soothingly. 

The innocence shining from her eyes causes the burning in my chest to flare agonisingly. She’s just so pure and fragile. How can I explain to her how badly I’m hurting without burdening her tiny shoulders?

She’s only eight years old. She deserves to always have me around to play dress-ups, cubby houses and tea parties with her. She’s too young to loose her sister.

Why is fate so cruel?

“I’m okay,” I sigh, as I sit up and wipe the tears from my eyes.

“No you’re not,” Violet huffs, her wide eyes beseeching with me to confide within her. “I’m a big girl now and I can tell that you’re crying because you’re upset.”

I smile sadly at my little sister and pull her into my lap. I stroke her long hair softly, breathing in the calming coconut scent of her skin and I kiss her forehead lightly. I know I will miss her more than I can bear.

“Do you remember what today is?” I ask quietly.

“It’s your Birthday, Rose!” Violet trills, bouncing up and down excitedly in my lap. I hear Nala yawn loudly, before she leaps into the air and scampers quickly around the corner.

‘Poor kitty,’ I think sourly. ‘The only thing you have to complain about is being woken up.’

“Yes it is,” I confirm, my voice thick with resentment. “And do you know how old I turn today, Violet?”

“Eighteen,” she says cheerfully. “Mummy says you’re a young lady now.”

Violet’s comment sends a spasm of bitterness coursing through my blood like an abrupt electric shot. She said it as if it was a good thing, something to be proud of. But she’s wrong. The phrase young lady is pretty much synonymous with sacrifice and corpse.