𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐠𝐞 𝐎𝐟 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐞

𝟏𝟕. 𝐎𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐎𝐟 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

I couldn't bring myself to continue, it was impossible for me to read about the monstrosities of Elias. Now, I could fully understand the " demon" that came with a briefcase. She knew that he was the murderer, she finally knew the truth and it destroyed her. The question still remained, what truth did she want us to unravel? Police hadn't caught Elias, maybe she wanted us to find him but probably he was dead by now.

I couldn't believe that Elias was really a murderer. How could he murdered all those people, poisoned people and then looked aunt Grace in the eyes especially after killing her best friend Amelia. At that point, I was sure he was hollow inside, with no emotions, no feelings and no heart. He couldn't possibly had loved aunt Grace, it was almost impossible for me to accept all this.

Like a sudden lightning it hit me, what if aunt Grace didn't just die and she was murdered. I had to call the morgue in England. I had to know about her death, no one would ever believe or even think that her death wasn't random. She was a lonely woman and she didn't have many friends. That thought made my heart ache in pain, I didn't visit her, we didn't...and it was now, more than ever that it was eating me alive. We stopped coming to Snowshill and we left her, we abandoned her while all she did was give us her love.

Guilt was like the sea, it came in waves, hitting my body, almost chocking me out of breath as it found its way through my heart, through my mind. Maybe, just maybe if she was here she could help us, she could be our anchor again, our anchor of happiness, but she wouldn't be coming back, ever again.

The only thing that was keeping me saint was my determination to accept aunt's Grace last wish. Alice, my sweet Alice. I would die if something were to happen to her, she was everything I had left and the only person who I could rely on.

Where I wandered none had walked before. The scars that marked my body were strange to all living creatures, but strangely enough, I found myself. I learned to cling to that self in hurricanes and rain. I learned to fight every moment to remember because that was life, just a long cycle of remembering and forgetting.

The past few days I was feeling that I was living in a novel that had been created just for me. Worlds woven by words that I circled as though I was the Earth and they, the sun. Stories I told myself, became who I was and suddenly, I was orbiting time and space like I was following a script.

The thing about life was, it pushed me until I broke just to see if I could put myself back together. I could put it back together, I could rise from my ashes and that was exactly what I was going to do. After some hours Alice came to find me in the library, as if she knew that my mind was crawling in the darkest places, as if she knew I needed someone to light the candle of my heart.

She came with her warm smile and she sat next to me, I knew she wanted us to talk but for a strange reason she didn't say anything at all. All she did was hug me until all the broken pieces of my heart glued together. Until my mind was finally gaining some peace. The big, beautiful sea was full of life's emotions. Either good or bad.

Recently, when I tried to swim to the end, to find the truth, to finally unravel the mystery that was presented in front of me, I couldn't move. Every obstacle was a wave in motion but I wasn't going to give up. I was going keep swimming. I wasn't going to be played and be a shell, I was going be one with the flow. I was going give everything I had.

There was the hug of gentle arms that still gave the space to breathe, that was exactly how Alice's hug was. Telling me everything that I was with a simple embrace. Body, brain and soul, they were finally with me. Finally in the same line, balancing in a very thick rope. I broke our hug and I simply took her by the hand and led her to the kitchen. It was time for us to remember how life used to be before we lost everything.

We opened our phone and put crazy music playing and started cooking as we did when we were younger with our mum. The music spanned around us lifting away gravity. I could see Alice's bright smile from one mile, as her hair bounced here and there while shaking her body to the beat.

In that moment I remembered our mum. My mother named me Victoria because she wanted me to remember to always believe in myself. Victoria was the Latin word for "victory". In Roman mythology, Victoria was the name of the goddess of victory. She always told me to believe in myself and do the best I could in every situation.

Hope beaded my skin like dew on spring grass. I felt it radiating in to soothe my blood. If formed such perfect spheres, each one like a tiny world of its own. I didn't know for sure that today or tomorrow would be better than yesterday but I was optimistic and that was the best I could hope for in that moment.

I was ready to face anything that would come in my path. Now, more than ever, I was ready. I had all the power I needed. I had everything I wanted in front of me but for some reason I felt tears threatening to fall down my cheeks. Maybe it was from the happiness that was flooding my body or maybe it was from the sadness that was eating me on the inside, the anxiousness.

I found happiness in simple things, as simple as dancing and cooking with Alice. As simple as the warming thought of my mum's face. What I needed the most was a good sleep, a good night's sleep to just block everything out of my mind.

Mind, complex and scary sometimes. Sleeping was something scary for me, every single night. After laying down I was always thinking about what I would dream, what I would see, what was waiting for me me on the other side. Those dreams, those uncontrollable dreams could easily destroy me one day.

My biggest fear was dreaming about someone's death, especially Alice's. What if one day I dreamt about my death. That scared me the most. Suddenly, Alice broke my thoughts as she yelled at me to help her prepare lunch. Her voice was soft and relaxing. Her smile radiating.

With one fast move I rushed next to her and we started cooking what our mum had taught us when we were younger. Lasagna. I found it fascinating how one smell, one voice, one picture could bring back so many memories that were able to flood our system and fill us with so many different emotions.

We spent our evening cooking and talking about different things but the only problem was that I knew. I knew the truth, Elias was really a murderer and only at the thought of him being alive and killing aunt Grace, it was driving me crazy. I had to call the morgue and make sure that she had died in a normal way.