Unforgivable Lacerations

Chapter Nineteen

I chose Romeo and Juliet, wanting to be taken back to before my birthday party when Edward and I watched the film. It was perfect then. I settled in my bedroom, with only the lamp on beside me, the light blue room and occasional red furnishings made it have a coastal theme.

I knew the book well and would be able to retell it line-by-line without it in front of me. The battered copy had been on various journeys with me and taken me back to late sixteen century many times, but now it reminded me of Carlisle, as when I read it I thought of how only a few decades later Carlisle was born, England being also the tie between the two.

I slapped the book shut and threw it lazily on the bedside table, frustrated that I couldn't have a single break.

The clock showed that it was late and I knew I needed to hit the sack for the night, therefore, I unwrapped myself from the bedsheets, went into the bathroom, its door being attached to the bedroom, and stepped quickly into the shower.

After doing my nightly routine, I checked that all the doors were locked and dived under the blankets. I never really believed in the saying 'silence is deafening' but now I understood what it meant. The sound of my breathing and my faint heartbeat was the only things my ears could pick up; no leaves rustled, the wind didn't howl and the boiler didn't rumble. 'Scared' was an understatement to the chilling feeling I was in possessed with. I kept my eyes wide open, foolishly thinking that I was more on guard, but there were vampires and wolves lurking around. Were zombies real? Ghosts? It was possible, and I wouldn't be surprised if they wanted to harm me too.

I shut my eyes, though, waiting hours until I traveled in time, through my unconsciousness, to weeks before. 

"Hi, Dad," I choked through my tears, looking at the writing engraved in the black marble. His name, his date of birth, his date of death, "Beloved father, friend and chief." The sharp pain was dense enough to cut with a knife, being a physical reminder that I missed him. 

Crouching down to put the large bunch of flowers next to him, consisting of blooming baby blue freesias, vibrant daffodils, crystal white lilies and innocent daisies stuck out of the ribbon, I began to speak. 

"I brought you these," I said, arranging them until they were perfect. I wouldn't settle for anything less, everything had to be just perfect for Dad. "I know you're not a fan of flowers and would rather Budweiser but I didn't think that would be appropriate," I chuckled softly, "I am missing you, Dad. I hope you are having a lovely birthday up there." In heaven. "I have finished the cottage, it's gorgeous, you would have loved it."

Well, it was gorgeous before Jacob.

"I'm looking for a job, well, my name is on the agency's list. That counts right?" I sighed. I didn't know what else to say, as if I told him what was actually going on and someone heard, I would be sent to a mental hospital. 'Oh, did I tell you? A pack of revengeful sadistic wolves, who are only after me since I dated a vampire, are stalking me. Yeah, I was involved in a car-crash with them as well.'  I didn't think that would go well. Instead of carrying on talking, I went to the faucet, that was situated on the outskirt of the cemetery and brought an old rag. I cleaned the marble until it was spotless and then placed the rag back, wanting to waste as much time here than be back at the cottage. 

But everything had to come to an end. When walking back I looked at the ages on the gravestones; seventy-four, fifty-two, twenty-seven, eighty-nine, seventy-seven, thirteen... Some were so young, too young, and it made the grief wrap around me tighter as if the general atmosphere was infectious.

I tried to ignore the feeling of being watched as I began my treck, ignore the dark figure in the trees, as I didn't want to scare myself before walking back a thirteen-mile hike back home. It was overly possible to become lost on the way, but if I stuck close to the roads then I should be nothing but tired.