The Color of Blood

I

Tired, I breathe out as I take the room in; every surface is covered in dust. The sofa has black stains and a foul smell, like dirty lake water, there are traces of tiny teeth marks on the legs of the bed, and the floor is sticky. The light, which hangs over the bed, blinks every two seconds, giving the apartment a more eerie atmosphere. I walk closer to the window, ignoring the yellowish tint the glass had acquired to distract myself from the disgusting room, but the view is just as uncanny. The dark alley where no one would dare pass through at this hour felt unpleasantly inviting, as if whatever was waiting there couldn't be worse than what I had run from. Or perhaps it was because the night concealed the danger that awaited so perfectly it looked harmless. Then, finally, the rain interrupted the silence, and my view became obstructed by the raindrops dripping down the window.

The room became cold, filled with the noise of the rain and the wind. The heater was probably broken too. I cup my hands together and bring them up to my lips to blow hot air into them, trying to cease the trembling. Unfortunately, the warmth didn't last enough to stop my fingers from shaking. Nevertheless, I could not complain about being cold, considering my reason for settling in such a place. I preferred the cold anyway. It reminded me of long nights staring at the night sky, with the sound of the leaves moving as the wind blew past them, and still, I refused to go inside even if my body shuddered from the cold breeze.

The rain wasn't loud enough to drown my thoughts. My mind wanders back to the thing I want to forget the most, but like a masochist, I continue to remember him. It pains me to do so. The memory of him torments me day and night. My mind has turned against me and blamed me for what went wrong. It is cruel how my own consciousness hurts me in such a way, and still, I let it.

Next to the window hangs a mirror with a gold-crowned arch against the wall. The mirror has several cracks on the downright side and up to the center, and dark smudges have been created by the oxidizing silver, making the reflection appear broken and hazy. In addition, the wall behind it is decorated with floral wallpaper; the background is a washed-down pink with white tulips and petunias; the paper has deteriorated, and the flowers have lost their color.

I step towards the mirror and stop directly in front of it. I focus my eyes on my reflection, expecting to find the familiar curves of my face, but on the other side of the mirror, another woman stares back at me. Her skin is painted in purple and green bruises, her long brown hair is greasy and disheveled, and the outline of her bones can be seen clearly through her face. This woman is nothing like the one I remember. The dark circles under her eyes and chapped lips make me grimace. This is not the face of the women who laughed for hours and had every star in the sky memorized. I bring my hand to touch the mirror and stroke my reflection, my fingertips barely gracing it, afraid I might break it more. This is what is left of me, a shell containing only the parts I hate most about myself. I know very well who caused this, what turned me into this unrecognizable thing, but still...

I rip my gaze from the mirror, not wanting to keep staring at that woman. I stumble towards the bed, hurrying to get away from the horrid reflection. A brown leather bag sits on the mattress; it was torn around the edges, clearly worn out from years of use. I open the bag, struggling with the zipper as it keeps getting stuck on my clothes, then take a white cardigan out of it. I sigh in relief as the extra layer of clothing warms my body. I keep digging through the bag, trying to find something to replace my dress, until my hand comes across a peculiar object. I freeze; I only remember packing clothes, my eyebrows furrow as I look at the bag confused. The strange item is small and circular, and kind of heavy as my fingers grab it to take it out.

A gold ring with a simple design rests in my hand. The words 'I will wait for you up in our blue sky.' were engraved on the inside. It took me a moment to recognize the object since it had been so long since I last saw it. Then, the ring fell from my hand as I gasped, and memories of the peace of jewelry came rushing back. I stagger backward while the ring bounces off the floor several times and makes a sharp sound until it finally stops. Although I knew the ring couldn't harm me, I still stared warily at it. Instead of picking it up, I focused on my hand, where my own ring used to be. I didn't miss it, but I couldn't throw it away either.

I reached for the diamond ring around my neck; it reminded me of the man I fell in love with, a sweet and caring man, not the man he turned into. Slowly, the memories I wanted to remember were fading away, while the ones I tried to forger forget kept replaying in my head.

The thought of letting go came to me every day, but the act of letting go, of forgetting, that pat was the hardest. Even now, when no one was holding me back, I still held on to pieces and memories of the life I used to have. 

A loud knock interrupts my thoughts and drags me back to my cruel reality. I glanced at the clock hanging above the bed. It was too late for anyone to come knocking on my door. The landlord crossed my mind, but he lives out of the premises.

Fear consumed me; it chewed and swallowed me in less than a second. Everything felt suffocating, the walls, the rain, my dress, and even the air.

Another loud knock followed.

I could hear the light tapping of the person's shoe hitting the floor impatiently on the other side of the door. My hands clenched, tightening every second, causing my nails to dig deeper into my skin. My imagination ran wild, playing every scenario it came up with on my mind. I knew they would come for me eventually to take me away and lock me up, but it was too soon.

The sound of the rain became lost in the background, replaced by the beating of my heart. The door remained closed, separating me from the person standing in front of it. I stood motionless, silent, afraid of breathing too loudly. The tapping I heard stopped, and hope grew as I thought the person had left, but it was destroyed when my unwanted guest knocked again.

My legs trembled as I forced them to move forward. There was no point in waiting for them to give up. They were persistent, determined, patient as I took my time to reach the door.
The wooden floor squealed annoyingly under my weight, making me halt and stiffen my muscles. The tapping continued, letting me know the person was still waiting. I prod towards the door, finally close enough to rest my hand on the doorknob, but as I turn the handle, a voice from outside of the apartment stops me.

"About time, Diana."

My body turns cold. The rain, the thumping of my heart, and erratic breathing all became lost.

No. He's dead. He can't hurt you.

"Oh, come on," his voice sends shivers down my spine, "aren't you going to open the door for me?" There was a tone of mockery in his words.

My hand falls to my side, and I stumble back, nearly tripping on my own feet. I try to breathe and calm myself, but the air doesn't seem to reach my lungs. The floor appeared to be spinning, making me nauseous. I closed my eyes and opened them after a few seconds, hoping I would wake up from this nightmare. But, unfortunately, this wasn't a dream.

The door slammed open, startling me. Then my eyes fell on the man standing just outside my door. His black eyes looking directly at me and his lips, the right corner lifting slightly upwards, hypnotized me. My mind traveled back to our beautiful house, morning coffee, and warm nights. Memories I never wanted to forget.

My body gives up and collapses, hitting the hard and cold floor. I lay there, defeated by my most feared demon. The one I thought I had rid myself of.

"Josh," I say in disbelief.

"Diana, did you miss me?" Josh asks. Humor danced on his words as he spat the question.
I wanted to tear my eyes away from his, but I didn't. He clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes, annoyed by my slight amount of courage. Josh took a step forward and smiled when he saw me sliding backward on the floor.

Everything around me seemed to disappear because all I could see was him. I shook my head in denial.

"It's all a dream," I cried out, sobbing frantically on the floor. "This can't be happening."
It was impossible, yet reality deceived me. Josh should be rotting in the backyard of our house, buried under the ash tree, but here he stood, in front of me, breathing and living.
He takes a step closer, and my body flinches away.

"Oh, but it is."