Belle Âme (SAMPLE)

Chapter 8: A Bruise

How can one feel complete happiness one second and then utter heartbreak in the next? It shouldn't be possible.

But it is.

This was supposed to be the best day. My birthday was supposed to be the happiest day of the year. But now, it has become the worst in my entire existence. I thought I knew how it felt to have my heart broken into tiny little specks when dad died. Turns out, nothing could have ever prepared me for the loss of mum's life.

I have never felt more alone and more broken than I am now.

I'm alone now. I have no one else but myself from here on out. What am I going to do?

Caroline, stop it! Stop making this about you.

"Mum, I'm sorry," I sob, clutching mum's shirt that she wore last night. It still smelled of her, thank God. It's a comforting smell-that of home.

I didn't know I could cry this many tears, but again, I am proven wrong as I lay on my bed, holding on to this item of clothing that is now soaked with buckets of tears I've cried since Ares brought me back from the morgue.

His words keep playing on repeat inside my head. It's incoherent from what little I could grasp through the confusion and weeping, but some words stuck to me.

"... crossing the street... a car was coming in from the wrong side... driver under the influence... hit Lilibeth... thrown a few meters from the impact... car hit a post... driver died on the spot... resuscitated her but didn't make it to the hospital..."

How is that even fair? Mum was just walking; she was just crossing the street. Now, she's dead. How the fuck is that fair?

I wanted to throw things in a rage the moment I was left alone in our quarter... my living quarter-I don't even know if I'll still be staying here after this-taking the first thing my hand could grab and fully intending on smashing the vase against the wall. Then, I remembered mum placing wildflowers that she picked from the edge of the property to give our small space a homey vibe. I carefully placed the vase back on the corner table and broke down to my knees, burying my tear-stained face in my hands. I couldn't break anything that mum bought with what little money we had. I couldn't do that to her. But I wanted to release my rage. I wanted to feel... anything other than this endless anger and sorrow caused by her demise.

And so I hit myself. I punched my legs, pinched my arms, and slapped my face. I needed the pain. God knows it's only a fraction of the pain mum suffered before she died. She shouldn't have had to endure such pain all because of me. If she hadn't treated me to coffee this morning, would she still be here and not in that awful morgue?

This is all my fault. Oh, my God, I killed mum.

The sobs wrack my body once again as fresh tears start to fall from my swollen eyes. I can barely open my eyes from all this crying, but I can't stop myself. My mum's wounded and bruised and lifeless body laying on that cold steel table flashes through my lids, my mind and heart at war whether to erase the image or keep it forever.

Knocks sound from a distance, but I don't have it in me to get up and open that damn door. What time is it anyway? I don't even know. Time and existence are not my priority right now. I just want to make all of this stop. Can the world please just stop revolving for a little while?

"Callie..." an elderly male voice calls from the other side of the bedroom door. Mr. Curtis. "I brought you some food. You need to eat, dear, before I take you to the funeral. You hadn't eaten anything since school yesterday." Though muffled, the worry lacing his voice sounds clear.