January 20th, 2024
"It's beautiful, Marine,"
"I'm not quite sure what to do with it." I replied, looking over at her as she dropped the boxes down on the tile floor of our new kitchen.
The kitchen was right next to the front door, the whole house was modern, but also gave a cozy feel. I loved it.
"Can I put you in charge of furniture?" I was mesmerized by the way she was easily hauling in boxes from the truck in and into the house.
"Of course."
"I trust your taste, ever since the wine,"
I paused, then directed my eyes up from her arms to her face. "I should help with those."
"Sure." She gave me a small smile.
After a few minutes of carrying various sizes of boxes in, Cleo spoke.
"My taste in furniture may be just a little different from my nonexistent taste in wine."
"You said the bottle attracted you. It all comes down to looks in the end. As long as the colors somewhat match and it doesn't look...janky..I don't give two shits about what you choose." I smiled.
She looked at me and raised her eyebrows, "Of course, babydoll," then she paused.
"Although, maybe I should warn you, sometimes I think I'm still in 1930."
"Well...this should be an adventure then." I huffed as I dropped a box on the ground, out of breath.
I was trying to fight past it, especially this year, but I hated the holidays, all for obvious reasons. But now there was secrets I didn't know about, exactly how my sister had died, I still didn't know. Now it had been three years.
Her suicide and my parents faking her death was still lingering in the back of my mind.
I drove the truck back to my house, Cleo had never gotten a license apparently. I had one, but I'd gotten it a few years ago, and I was definitely a little rusty on the road. I had almost run over a squirrel.
Cleo should've been the one driving, illegally, but driving nonetheless. It wasn't my fault it had run out into the road.
"I feel like we missed something."
I looked at the exterior of the cabin I'd grown up in. I'd miss the forest, the owls hooting at night that I'd fall asleep to.
Or the times I would go back there to do my homework until it got dark, I'd sneak up the stairs around midnight, hoping not to get caught.
Slinking down the stairs while the house was pitch black, getting cookies with Marionette after she'd had a nightmare.
But I couldn't think about Marionette without feeling sick, replaying images of her about to stab herself in my mind. I didn't want to think about her.
And as I walked inside for one of the last times, I looked at the bare interior. Almost everything was gone.
I looked at family photos hung up on the fridge. Mostly all of them were fake smiles. I could tell. But some of them, just a few, were real.
Like the times Father would spray me with the hose in the front yard when I was little. I barely remembered that, but it was documented in photos. I was a toddler, and having a blast in the water. We were both laughing.
I hoped to have photos like that with my children one day, but I would try to make sure they wouldn't regret them later in life. I didn't want them to be sad every time they looked at them, like me.
That was Cleo's goal, too.
There were definitely more memories I needed to leave than those I'd miss, however.
As I came back to reality from zoning out at the fridge, Cleo was coming down the stairs with a box full of books.
"I'm taking these from your father's bookshelf,"
"Did he have some journals or something?" I asked with too much hope laced in my voice.
"I'm not sure. I'd like to learn his secrets, too." She answered with a small snort.
Then my idea sprouted.
We began to take all the pictures off the fridge and walls, putting them all in a single box. The selling of a cabin right next to the forest was easier than I thought it would've been.
Cleo took the boxes back out to the truck and I followed her, taking my final step out.
"You're sure you didn't leave anything? Tomorrow is the last day we could possibly go in."
"I'm sure." I answered softly. I closed the door behind me, closing the door to my entire life before this moment.
She saw the look on my face and came over to hug me. I needed it to keep me from crying.
"It'll be okay, babydoll. Promise. We're going to get a fresh start together. I'm never leaving your side."
I smiled sadly up at her and we both headed back into the truck, driving back to our new home, in our new neighborhood. Our new life. Together.
As I walked from room to room with Cleo's hand in mine, I could perfectly envision building a family.
She kissed the top of my head, "Ready for an adventure?"
I giggled, "Ready as I'll ever be. Maybe."
"How reassuring."
~~~
It felt like it had been no time since we'd moved in, but it had been a month. Walking downstairs still felt like a new experience each morning, like I was staying in a hotel. A very fancy, expensive hotel, but still a hotel.
It didn't feel like a home yet. That part was probably our job.
Cleo had taken me to the grocery store and we'd gotten food, which had actually encouraged me to remember to eat. Our fridge was completely full, which wasn't something I'd seen in a long time.
Not since Harper had brought me groceries.
Back when Harper was alive.
One of our fridges was completely full. The other one was used for Cleo's blood storage, which she wasn't very stocked up on.
The chandelier above the living room was too fancy for my liking, it took away from the cozy feel I wanted.
"Can we change that?" I asked Cleo, looking directly up to the ceiling to stare at it.
"Seems easy enough to me," she answered. "You need it more compact, don't you? You don't like how open it is."
I slowly nodded. "It feels like I'm in a dollhouse...like I'm not real."
"You're real, my love."
"Sometimes I wonder, how could I be when I'm treated like such a princess by you?" I sat next to her on the sofa.
Cleo just smiled and wrapped an arm around me, pulling me in tight.
The sofa was one of the only things nice about the living room so far. I sank into it when I sat, but not too far, just comfortably deep. And I'd draped a blanket across the top, it was fluffy against my back.
"This will be exactly how you want it in no time," Cleo smiled. "I'll make sure of it."
The thought from the previous month suddenly scraped across my mind. My face dropped.
"Cleo?"
"Mm?"
"We have my father's journals, right?"
"Yes, babydoll. I went through that box last week." She answered.
"What if my sister's real death is written in there?"
"Well...that'd be great, babydoll,"
"Where did you put them?" I quickly jumped up.
"In the office, the bottom cubby in the bookshelf, are you looking now?"
I quickly nodded, grabbing her arm and yanking her up, before running upstairs.
I ran to the cubby drawer in the office, where the bookshelf sat against the one brown accented wall against the rest of the white. Cleo had painted it herself.
Cleo stood behind me, clearly skeptical about the whole idea as I began to dig through the journals, checking the dates of the pages as I went. I'd never been more happy my father had a writing hobby.
Then I'd found it. The date, December 28th, 2021.
A shaky breath subconsciously left me as I fully opened the page.
"Will you read it aloud?"
I nodded, having already skimmed the first line.
"'I won't hesitate with the details. Today we were attacked.'" I began to read, "'The night crawlers and that filthy thirst for blood,'" I stopped myself, trying to recollect the information.
I glanced over at Cleo before forcing myself to continue.
My heart beat faster as my eyes trailed along the lines of words.
"'Today they went a step too far. One jumped on the hood of the car, they smashed the windows, the glass was everywhere. I couldn't hear anything through Marionette's screaming. Until Marionette wasn't there anymore. They'd taken her with them. Maybe the car was just a distraction.'"
As my eyes scanned the rest of the words, my brain couldn't comprehend the words. I shook my head, trying to get myself in shape.
"Are you okay?" Cleo asked.
I slowly nodded, "Yes, actually, I'm better than I thought I'd be after reading it." I answered.
"Are you sure? You're not lying?"
"I'm sure."
For some reason, there wasn't anything inside of me. Maybe it was the medication, Samantha had just talked with the psychiatrist to get it switched out, and it was better. But now I was questioning if my grief was real.
"I am okay, Cleo. I'd just like to burn this journal."
She snorted, "Sounds good to me."
Vampires, attacking the car, taking my little sister, turning her, until she ultimately ended up killing herself.
How much torture does a person have to go through to crack like that?
The only thing that hurt was Marionette. But her loss didn't feel as bad as it did even just a few months ago. I remembered that she'd stabbed herself, but I was thankful I'd been knocked out before I could actually see it happen.
I guess Samantha was working wonders with me.
Cleo helped me off the floor, and took the journal from my trembling hand.
"You're shaking, are you sure you're okay?"
I nodded. "I think I'm going to text Samantha."
Cleo kissed my forehead, "Good. This is probably a lot to take in."
"It isn't," I told her, "I think there's been worse than this. I was expecting it to be worse."
"Well, I'm glad you're feeling okay. But you can always tell me if that changes, babydoll. This sounds like it's closure for you."
I nodded and sudden tears dropped splotchy wet spots onto my sweater, turning the fabric a darker shade of pink.
"Come here, my love." Cleo pulled me into a tight hug.
"I could've never done this if it weren't for you," I said.
"I love you, Cleo,"
"I love you most."
"Don't try me, not right now. I could go on forever right now." I laughed through tears.
"This is my late birthday present. I love you most."
I giggled.
I had gotten her a present, a new jacket and lots of kisses. Although, the jacket I'd gotten only so I could steal it from her.
Our new life in the house was great. Samantha was slowly but surely helping me patch up holes in my life. Everything was going wonderfully. Cleo was still beautiful, I enjoyed every second of the day with her.
We'd go on rainy day walks to parks and more picnics than ever, after being advised that I probably needed to go outside more.
Sometimes when Cleo would sleep in the day, I would walk to coffee shops and read.
Every time I felt like running back home to her, I'd try to remember what I'd been told. Take a deep breath, hold onto the necklace and try to immerse myself deeper in the story.
While I was so focused on forcing myself into the book, I'd forget about her. And I still loved her just as much when I'd finally return home.
Books made me feel better. It felt like socializing without socializing, and telling the cashier my order was already enough socializing for me.
Samantha said that was okay, that we could work on that.
I thought about when I'd have children, and how when I was a kid I'd always ask my mother to order my food for me.
Except the next time, I would be the mother.
It was important that Cleo and I took care of ourselves before beginning to take care of a bunch of little kids.
Cleo had made a truce with her father. She was helping him run the blood business, and she was still racking in thousands each day, as if we weren't already well off.
She was good at it, she could kill people and cover her tracks effortlessly.
If anyone asked me, I would say that this was the best I had ever felt. And everything was only going to get better.