Unspoken

Chapter 47

My eyes trace the outline of blood on my Taser for a long time. After wandering the halls until dinner's near-end, I took a spot in an uninhabited corner of the dining hall. My fingers run along the cool metal. Small chips of dried blood crumble under my fingers. 

In the silence of the room, I feel comfortable enough to face my thoughts. No one knows where I am--no one can bother me for once. I can face the pain in my chest on my own; I can watch the scene unfold as many times as I need.

And so I do. For nearly a week, I venture into the dining hall when nearly everyone has vacated the vast room to stare at my Taser and watch my horrid memories play like a Viewing on the Port. Every time I see it, my heart breaks all over again, and I almost fall apart with it. But with each break, it hurts less, even if the difference is barely noticeable. I don't think I'll stop watching him die or cease feeling the pain that accompanies the vision. This is a mistake I will live with forever. Every day death will haunt me. I won't forget this the way I've nearly forgotten my mother's death, her face in her last moment. His voice will always ring through my ears and break through the silence. His distant eyes will always linger.

"I wish I could have gone with you. I could have stopped you," Merda says as she adds more strokes of paint to her canvas. I sit in a wood chair on the other side of her easel. She doesn't want me to see her painting yet. I'd worked my way to Merda's apartment because it's yet another place no one will bother me. I've spent a lot of time with Merda since my visit with Michael. It's relaxing. She paints for hours without saying anything. But she notices the pain in my eyes--for such an empathetic person I'd be surprised if she couldn't. It must be killing her to watch me every day.

I shake my head. My eyes travel across the paintings she's already hung on the walls--Movement squares; laughing, foreign faces; snapshots of serene paths in the woods; her parents. They all look so lifelike, so beautiful.

So peaceful.

I'll never be able to feel that way again. "No one could."

Michael had told Brody I had an actual Taser, even showed him it. It looked quite like what Michael gave me, so from a distance it would have been seen as a Taser. If I were asked it would come across as if we were talking about the same weapon. The thought makes my stomach churn. I hold my stomach tightly so as not to puke right where I'm at.

"It's finished."

Merda stares in awe at the canvas before her. Her eyes have never been so bright, not even when she's looked at me. I wonder what she's painted. It must be beautiful.

Gradually, I take the few steps between the two of us. I stare down at one of the legs of the easel when I position myself in front of it. My gaze works intricately up every inch, every centimeter of frame, past each stain of paint and chipped spot.

My eyes finally find the canvas. Each line is delicate, put together like all of Merda's other paintings. It depicts a side of someone I didn't know that person could have. The defiant face is contrasted greatly from the plain, white background. Both eyes stare down knowingly--so much understanding and strength is laced in them. The full face and cropped, dark hair are so familiar....

I'm staring at myself.

I glance at Merda, who's also staring at the painting. When she feels my eyes on her, she says, "That's what your face looked like when I gave you the book."

Scoffing, I shake my head. There is no way my face contained any of this knowledge when my eyes found the cover for the first time. Back then I'd been so naive and sheltered, yet some part of me had known all this would happen. The look is familiar to me. I've seen it every time I've looked in the mirror since my father died.

This is me.

I begin to bring my fingers to the painting to trace each, intricate line, but then think better of it. My hands instead find Merda's shoulders and squeeze. She can't tear her own eyes away from the picture. Together we stare at the beauty of the painting the way I've been staring at the Taser.

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A/N:

I'M ALIVE!!!! I apologize for having no updates for like 2 months, but I had far less free time this summer than I thought. To make up for it, here's my favorite chapter, and I'll also give you a double update! Woo!

Life update: my summer was stressful but fantastic. Anyone who's never been a camp counselor before is really missing out.

Love,

Alisha