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kyndaris · 6 months

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The Shadow of Broken Dreams

Although I wanted to initially title this the Boulevard of Broken Dreams, I didn't know how well it would have gone over. This is a short story I've written following on from me finishing up Toymaker. Now it's just a matter of editing that behemoth of a novel before I upload it on FictionPress and Wattpad to share.

Once that's done, well, here's hoping I can start working on something I actually want published.

Should be noted, though, that this piece wasn't uploaded to my Wattpad because I felt it was a bit too grim and a little too experimental. It IS on my FictionPress (put up back in August) but I've also posted the full story here anyways behind the read more link. So, enjoy!

The apartment was dark when I entered. The only light being the television set to a channel that replayed old sitcoms and daytime movies from the 70s. It served as white noise as I set my work bag groceries and the groceries down on the floor. They’d been heavy. Weighing me down as I wrestled them up the stairs.

Yet despite the numerous complaints, building management had refused to install an elevator. The bastards.

And while I knew I ought to put the groceries all in the fridge, that was a battle I didn’t want to face right now. Not when all I wanted to do was curl up next to the kitchen counter. I was drained. Exhausted. Tired from smiling and being the vivacious social butterfly that most of my work colleagues and old college friends saw me as.

If they could see me now, what would they think?

Would they see the broken woman that I was? The one who spent most nights with a glass of red wine in hand? Who had a bathroom littered with bottles of pills? One for anxiety, another filled to the brim with antidepressants, and a third for some unknown painkiller to get rid of the ache that racked my very soul?

Probably not.

I mean, why would they? It wasn’t as if I invited anyone over. And no-one was curious to delve more than surface level in trying to get to know me.

During my darkest moments, I often played with the thought of just disappearing entirely. After all, who would miss me? Who would even care?

Certainly not my father. Especially after the explosive fight we had four years ago during Thanksgiving.

And definitely not the ‘friends’ that had glommed to me back in high school like barnacles to the bottom of a very rich ship. Or the faceless men that I had met in bars, looking for a quick pick-me-up or just to feel something when everything inside me was numb.

Despite everything I was doing, though, I still felt so alone in the world; cast adrift by everything and everyone.

Shaking the morose thoughts from my head, I got to my feet. I wasn’t rejuvenated in the slightest but it wouldn’t do for the food to go bad just because I couldn’t deal with the empty apartment and the lack of human contact. People couldn’t subsist solely on alcohol and the occasional Chinese takeout.

But even as I unpacked everything from my reusable grocery bag and put them in the fridge, my movements felt sluggish. As if I was swimming through a thick and heavy malaise. And I couldn’t help but think what the entire point of all this was for.

Why did I even bother going to a dead-end job? Or try to befriend people that couldn’t give a whit about who I was or what I was interested in?

Nothing mattered. Not in this cold, uncaring world.

Wouldn’t it just be easier…

The snap of the elastic band around my wrist broke the chain of thought that had gripped me. Suddenly, I was standing in front of the fridge, a carton of milk in my hand.

Had I been in the process of putting it in or taking it out to make myself a coffee? I didn’t remember.

I put it in the fridge and instead grabbed the bottle of wine resting on the top shelf. My therapist said that self-medication wasn’t the answer but what did she know, anyways? I’d had a tiring day and my head was still throbbing from the grilling I had received from one of our long-standing business associates.

Her words sounded in my ears as I poured myself a glass, the red kissing the rim. I took it with me to the couch. The show on the TV was something I’d seen in passing a million times before. A vapid woman chasing after a man that couldn’t have cared less about her.

The associate – a woman in her late 50s, her hair in a neat chignon – had been utterly ruthless in her assessment of the report me and my team had handed in.

She had destroyed what little confidence I had. And even now I was questioning if I knew what I was doing; if I deserved the position that had been bequeathed to me. Both at work and in terms of the trajectory that I wanted my life to go.

Which, I mused as I took a gulp of wine from the glass, was straight down to rock bottom.

Maybe I should tender my resignation. I was clearly unfit for the role AND out of my depth.

That had always been clear to me from the start.

I took another sip from my wineglass only to find that it was empty. Frowning, I padded back to the fridge and pulled out the bottle of red. With the bottle in hand, I returned to my spot on the couch.

By the time I had downed the entirety of the bottle and felt buoyed by a light buzzing in my head, the time on my phone showed 8:54PM. It was late but not so late for me to cook something simple.

But the desire to get back up and actually do something for myself was non-existent. Especially as I had gone out after discovering that there was naught in my fridge but two bottles of wine and 3 six-pack of bud light. Which had, of course, prompted me to go down to the shops to pick up some groceries to give the thin veneer that I was a fully functional adult human.

Besides, I’d picked up two buffalo wings and a bread roll from the corner store before I went out.

That was a healthy meal, right?

It was certainly better than nothing, I told myself as I turned back to the TV, eyes glazed.

I blinked groggily awake as the sunlight streaming through the half-closed blinds hit my eyes. Taking in my surroundings, I realised that I’d fallen asleep on the couch again. The wine bottle had fallen to the floor, the last dredges of it staining the carpet red.

Shit.

As I contemplated if it was worth it to clean it up or leave it until later, I felt a vibration at my side. Patting myself down, I couldn’t find my phone but I knew it had to be nearby. Before I’d fallen asleep, I’d been scrolling through social media. Something my therapist had recommended that I stop.

It was only after I stood up that I found the Samsung snuggly sandwiched between the seats. Grabbing it, I looked at the screen. Why was management calling? At this hour?

Before I could compute what was happening, the call rang out and I finally glimpsed the time. 10:55AM.

Fuck. Shit. Shit. Fuck.

I was late. Very late.

No wonder management was calling. They were after my pathetic little hide for screwing up so spectacularly. And a part of me did still care about what they thought of me.

These were people that had took me on. They had hired me despite all my flaws. And I was letting them down during a crucial moment.

The guilt ate at me as I hurried to my bedroom. Just as I was stripping out of my work clothes from yesterday, my phone buzzed again. This time, I picked up.

“This is Cheryl,” I said, somehow sounding peppy though I was running on fumes.

“Oh, thank God. For a moment, I thought you’d died in a ditch somewhere.”

“After the dressing down I got yesterday, I almost wanted to.”

An awkward titter. “Oh, Cheryl. You’re so funny. But, not gonna lie, you had me worried there for a second. I’d called you ten times already. What’s going on?”

“Long night,” I replied sheepishly as I glanced back towards the living room. “I’m so sorry, Joan, for letting the team down. If you give me an hour, I can get into the office and start on the project. I’ll work until it’s finished, no matter how—”

“Cheryl, it’s fine. We can park the project for tomorrow. I called because we hadn’t heard from you and I was getting a little worried since you’re usually in so early.”

“But I can still—”

“No, Cheryl,” said Joan, channelling her mum voice that I knew all too well. “Look, we’ve all been under pressure one time or another, so I know how you feel. Don’t worry, I’ll think of something to say to leadership. You take today off, okay? Get some rest and look after yourself. You’ve been looking a little pale these last few days.”

“Joan—”

Before I could say something more, she had already hung up. I kept the phone held up to my ear for a few more moments, expecting to hear Joan’s voice come through to demand that I make it into the office by 12 or I’d be fired, before I threw the phone onto my bed and let out a frustrated groan.

God. What was wrong with me? How could I have let myself slip like this?

As I slumped down onto my bed, still half-naked, my thoughts turned towards the project I was supposed to be busy starting right now if I hadn’t overslept. What would people say? Would they finally see through the façade that I’d projected all these years?

And Joan…she’d said I had looked pale during the phone call.

Did she know? Did she suspect something was amiss?

Fear and paranoia gripped me then. Before I knew it, I was up on my feet, heading to the shower. All the while, my thoughts were dissecting the conversation I just had with my immediate supervisor.

What had she meant about being ‘under pressure?’ Or that I ought to ‘look after myself?’

Had I let the mask slip?

No. That was impossible. I’d honed my ability to put on a smile so that none could see beyond the image I’d projected. In that, I was, at least, perf—

The cold water from the showerhead struck me then, pulling me from my thoughts. I yelped, dancing back in the shower until the water had turned lukewarm before diving back in.

It was too late now to eat breakfast. But if I was going to enjoy this unplanned day off, I needed my daily dose of caffeine. Maybe I could grab a wrap, too?

There was a café close by that I’d always wanted to try but never had the time for.

Yes. I’d go there.

Some food in my stomach to appease the hunger gods and a few of my prescribed skills in my gullet would be enough to get me out of this funk. Or, it would allow me to stop trying to parse the hidden meaning behind Joan’s words. More likely than not she hadn’t meant much of it.

She’d just been trying to make small talk.

Right?

Trying to find a way to be empathetic was the ‘perceived’ social norm.

Right?

Or maybe it was all a way to say that the team didn’t need me at all. That I was a liability. A burden.

Fuck. I needed to get out of my own head. And quick.

I got into the office early the next day. There was a ton of work that I needed to catch up on. And I couldn’t disappoint. So, I skimmed through the emails in Outlook before turning my attention to the big project that we’d been assigned. I was adamant that by the time Joan arrived in the office, I would have a draft on her desk.

They couldn’t fire me then. Right?

I was indispensable.

A vital member of the team.

But even as I searched for statistics, the doubt continued to gnaw on my mind. Despite the anti-anxiety pills and antidepressants I’d taken. The worry just wouldn’t leave me be.

It haunted my every step; made me question every move.

When Joan did finally arrive at a quarter past nine, her cappuccino in hand, she walked right past my desk, plonked down at her desk and stared at her blank computer screen for a good few seconds before taking a sip of her coffee cup and shaking off the last vestiges of sleep. That was when she glanced down and saw the printed outline I’d made.

Her head turned towards my desk before looking back at the outline. Her brows knitted together and her lips arched downwards in a frown. After logging into her computer, she rose from her chair.

I quickly turned back to my computer screen. The project wasn’t going to finish itself. Especially if they wanted it in by the end of the week. And it was already Thursday.

The clack of her heels was the only warning I had before Joan loomed above me.

“Cheryl.” Something sounded off. Had there a hint of disappointment in her voice? I looked at her face but the usual fun twinkle I saw in her eyes was absent. This was no-nonsense Joan. A person I’d rarely met.

A cold shiver went down my spine. Why did it also feel like my stomach had dropped out from its usually spot?

Taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, I hit ctrl + s on the document I was working on. I forced a smile to my lips, though all I wanted to do was run and hide. Was it too late to go to the bathroom? “Hi Joan. How’s your morning today?”

Joan looked at me, an unreadable expression on her face.

The mother of two was impeccably dressed although I could see that she had slightly smudged her lipstick. Despite having a rebellious teenager and a loud rambunctious pre-teen, Joan was a career woman through and through. Like me, she had on a blazer. But while mine was grey, hers was black. And while I much preferred wearing a skirt matched with low heels, Joan dressed like a woman on mission in black slacks and flats.

“Cheryl,” she said again. “Look, this isn’t easy to say but the project…well, it’s been assigned to Brett.”

It took a moment for her words to sink in.

That they had reassigned the project to Brett wasn’t the issue. It was the fact that they didn’t think I could do this that broke me. It meant that they didn’t need me.

One mistake and it had all led to this. What was wrong with me? How could I have done something so blind, missing that glaring mistake in the report?

The pressure in my head began to build, dull though it seemed. But as time passed, it grew ever more present. Ever more demanding. White noise filled my ears. And then, my entire imploded. Utterly and completely.

Before me, a black void yawned open in front of me. I stood alone at its edge, no-one beside me. Off in the distance, I heard the sounds of howls getting ever closer. Fear enveloped me.

Did I jump off? Or did I stay to be devoured by monsters?

It would be easier to just let go. To take that step and take the plunge. Then I wouldn’t be hounded every day. I wouldn’t be a burden. I wouldn’t take up someone else’s share of oxygen…

“Cheryl? Cheryl!” Something was shaking me.

I blinked twice and the office swam back into focus. Before me was my computer with a screensaver of a forest somewhere in Germany. To my left, there was a photo of me smiling with my family on a summer vacation back in my 20s. In the corner of my eye, to the right, I could see a beige blouse.

There were words being said above me but I couldn’t process what was being said. It all sounded like nonsense to me.

Then someone crouched down to eye level.

It was Joan. There was a look of concern on her face. But rather than reassure me that there was someone out there cared for me, I was filled with anger. I had seen behind the façade. Nobody cared about me.

Certainly not Joan.

If my self-control hadn’t kicked in, I would have snarled at the woman and probably spat in her face. She was a fucking bold-faced lie. Why did she and everyone else in my life play pretend? What was the goddamned point? Did they think they were good people if they put in a tokenistic effort of empathy?

Well, fuck that. And fuck them.

“Cheryl, I think—”

“I’m fine,” I said through clenched teeth as I unlocked my computer.

“Are you sure? Look, we understand if you’re angry. This isn’t a reflection of all the work you’ve done for us so far. Given the fact that we didn’t know how long you were going to be away, leadership thought—”

I closed my eyes, counted slowly to five. “I said I’m fine, Joan. There’s a lot that needs to be done. I’m here to work. So, let me do it.”

Perhaps Joan sensed something in my tone. She rose to her feet. “Be that as it may, Cheryl, I think it’s in your best interest to take ten minutes. Go out and grab a coffee. Or get some fresh air, whichever helps. Then, when you’re back, we can talk about the project and Brett. Okay?”

It wasn’t a suggestion but an order. I flashed Joan a tight smile. “Sure. Fine,” I said, grabbing my bag. “I’ll be back in ten.”

Reining in my bubbling resentment, I headed to the elevator lobby. Two minutes later, the doors opened on the ground floor and I stepped out onto the street. But instead of turning left to enter the coffee shop, I walked straight past it.

And then I began to run, my handbag slung over my shoulder.

I didn’t go back to the office.

In my darkened bedroom, I sat on my bed and stared off into nothing. I had curled my knees up to my chest, my arms holding them in place.

It was Monday.

Normally by now I would be in the office, tapping away at my keyboard and finishing off whatever it was I had been assigned or responding to emails from stakeholders. You know, business as usual. But it was already nearing lunch time and I hadn’t done anything except stare at nothing for the entire day.

My phone sat beside me. I had turned it off immediately last Thursday after walking out of the office, fearful that I’d receive a barrage of calls once Joan realised that I wasn’t coming back.

But a part of me wondered if that truly would have been the case. Would they have even cared?

What was I but a cog in the machine of corporate America? And an unimportant one at that. Easily replaceable with someone like Brett. A man that had coasted by on his good looks and charisma but who couldn’t even string two sentences together in a report.

Yet, leadership favoured him anyways.

I wanted to hate Brett with all my being but I knew that it wasn’t entirely his fault. Not really.

He was, after all, a better choice than Briony.

Now, she was a piece of work. A woman who delighted in gossip. Who would tell everyone far and near how accomplished she was even though she’d literally done nothing to earn it. Every day I’d see her chatting with upper management or leadership or going out for coffee at least five times a day. She was slow with her work and constantly on the phone to her friends or her daughter or the landlord.

It was easy to get mad at her but it wasn’t worth it.

After all, I knew I was going to be fired. Not that I cared.

Nothing really seemed to matter to me anymore. During the weekend, I’d lazed in bed. Hadn’t bothered to even get up to brush my hair or my teeth. Or even really eat anything beyond some buttered toast and ordering in an unhealthy dose of ice-cream via Uber Eats.

The antidepressants weren’t working. I’d stopped taking them on Saturday because I hadn’t seen the point of it all. And I’d flushed the anti-anxiety pills down the toilet as well.

Only the painkillers remained.

Maybe if I…

Before I could finish the thought, there was a knock at my apartment door. It was an incessant hammering that told me if I didn’t open it now, the person would only continue until I opened it or the door broke down from the sheer force of their hits.

Better to ignore it, I thought though my original train of thought was gone. How else ought I to while away the time? Maybe I could watch some daytime TV. They were mostly reruns of soap operas from back in the day. Mindless drivel, most would say.

Or perhaps I could turn on my computer and sit down to some reality shows on Netflix that could drive away the numbness that had taken hold on me.

It knocking kept on for a solid five minutes. By then, it sounded like the door to my apartment was about to cave in.

Having not decided what I ought to do best with my time, I tumbled out of bed with a groan and grabbed a jersey that had belonged to one of my exes, and which was long enough to reach my knees. For a moment, as I slipped on the jersey, I wondered if I ought to change into something more presentable but thought better of it.

What did it matter anyways?

Satisfied that I wasn’t entirely exposed except for my pale creamy legs, I padded to the door.

As if they had heard my footsteps, the knocking stopped.

Rising to my tiptoes, I peeked through the peephole to see who had come to interrupt my pity party. But there was no-one to be seen.

What in the world?

Was this just an elaborate prank?

They had hammered at my door for so long but by the time I arrived, they were gone? It was enough to heat up what little energy I had when it came to such things.

I wrenched open the door. Maybe, if I was quick enough, I could see who had bothered to come a-knocking at my door before leaving so abruptly.

Poking my head out, I first looked left and then right. But there was no sign of anyone having been there. The corridor was empty.

Had I been imagining things?

Time had lost almost all of its meaning as I had moped around the apartment.

Just as I went to close the door to return to my wallowing, I heard soft mewling coming from under me. I looked down. There, right on the welcome door mat, was a cardboard box. And inside them were four tortoiseshell kittens.

Fuck.

“We’ll make sure to find a home for them all. You have my word.”

“Thank you,” I said. “That means a lot to me.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to keep one?” asked the shopkeeper of the pet store. “Tortoiseshells can be a bit tricky but they’re lovely creatures.” She was young. Or, at the very least, looked it. I guessed that she was probably in her mid-20s. Her soft straw-coloured hair was tied up in a messy bun. And over her blue and white striped shirt, she was wearing an apron.

In comparison, I was dressed much more sloppily in shredded black jeans and a too-large maroon hoodie stamped with Harvard University on the front.

Not that I’d gone to Harvard.

My dad had bought it for me when we had visited Boston during my sophomore year in high school. He’d pointed out the law building in particular, said that it had been his dream for one of his children to attend.

Given that I was the only child that my parents ever had, that burden lay on my shoulders.

Suffice it to say, I didn’t make the cut.

I smiled back at the shopkeeper. “No. I’m good. Not sure what kind of monster decided to dump them on my doorstep but I’m glad that I was able to help them out.”

And really, I was glad. It was the first time I’d felt good about something I did.

True, it wasn’t a high paying job and wouldn’t get me any brownie points, but it was the right thing to do.

After all, I couldn’t look after the kittens. Heck, I couldn’t even look after myself.

This was for the best.

They would find good homes to take them in. People that were more put together and had their life all figured out—

Someone crossed by my vision. She was dressed in a business suit, like always. Her hair was pulled into a neat chignon, held in place by a diamond tipped pin. It was Joan.

Fear sluiced down my veins. Had she recognised me? Was she going to rip into me for not being at the office these last two days, and had been unreachable via both phone and email?

But no, Joan was headed towards the far end of the pet store. She walked with purpose. And that was when I remembered that she had a little chihuahua at home. Brutus, his name was. No doubt she was here to pick up some treats for him.

Once she’d picked up some premium lamb dog food, she headed back to the counter. Not once did she glance in my direction but I kept my face turned away, hidden beneath the hoodie.

“Gone through another bag, has he, Joan?”

Joan let out a sigh. “If you’d believe it. Brutus just loves these. Goes rabid at the very scent because he knows he’s been a good boy.”

“What’s wrong, Joan? You’re not normally so down.”

“Oh, just some drama in the office. You know how it is Vanya. Big project, new staff that need to be trained and to cautious about making a mistake.”

Vanya – the owner of the pet shop owner – nodded. “Yes, I remember you telling me something about it. Said you had this troublemaker that forced you to kiss up with the big bosses. I think you said she’d gotten drunk on a weeknight and was too sauced to come in the next day?”

“That’s the one. And it wasn’t even for anything serious.” Joan leaned across the counter. “I tell you, Vanya, this young generation that’s coming in, they’re just too sensitive. Give them even the slightest criticism, even ones that are constructive, and they fall apart at the seams. That never used to happen with me.”

“Exactly. You listened, you learned, you became better.”

Joan nodded. “Anyways, you don’t need to hear me bitch and moan too much, Vanya.”

“Oh, it’s no bother, Joan. You’ve been a loyal company for fifteen years. What are friends for? Us—"

I didn’t hear the rest of the conversation. I didn’t want to. Especially given the topic of choice. So, after pulling my hood just a little further down to cover my face, I waved goodbye to Vanya and headed straight for the door.

By the time I’d made it down the street, to the lights, I was breathing heavily and my chest was tight. Thoughts whirled in my head, never slowing enough for me to analyse them.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Had that really happened?

What was Joan even doing, coming into a pet shop in the middle of the city, in the middle of the Goddamned day…

But as I turned the corner, I was met with the skyscraper that housed the business I’d been working at since I graduated from college, fresh-faced and eager to contribute to the workforce. I’d met Joan at my first interview. She had been kind and friendly. Always eager to answer my questions when I didn’t understand something.

How quickly things had changed.

I turned on my heel and headed back down the street. Somewhere, I’d just got turned around, my feet naturally leading me back to something that was familiar, but which also filled my very being with dread.

It was probably because I’d been distracted, thinking too much on Joan’s sudden appearance. She was a blast from the very recent past. And based on what I’d overheard, she’d never been my friend. Like everyone else in my life, she saw me as a disposable tool. A person ‘too sensitive’ who couldn’t take an undeserved dressing down.

A lump formed in my throat and hot wet tears pricked at the corner of my eyes. Ones I tried to blink back desperately. I wouldn’t cry. Not out in the open like this.

All I needed to do was get back home. Then I could close the door against the world and let myself go.

Blinded by the despair that gripped me, I didn’t notice when I bumped headlong into someone.

My first impression was of warmth as something spilled onto my hoodie. Then the thud of a solid chest.

I stumbled back, keeping my eyes lowered to the ground.

“Hey, that was my bloody espresso!”

“I’m so sorry,” I murmured under my breath, jaw working overtime to keep the sob from my voice. Everything hurt. And I wanted to get away.

“Just…just watch out next time, yeah?”

I nodded, head down, before sidestepping past the man. The most I caught of him was a fitted graphic t-shirt with three triangles set in what looked like a pyramid.

As I hurried to the next intersection, I didn’t dare look back. Even though I could feel the man’s gaze drilling a hole through the back of my head. What else was there to say anyways?

Back in my dark apartment, sitting in the empty bathtub and naked from the waist down, I looked at the bottle of pills in my hand. It would be so easy. And it would make things so much better.

After all, I was unlovable. I was a burden. I was weak. I was sensitive. And I was never going to aspire to anything in life.

Flashes of memory, from both the distant past to the recent encounter at the pet shop, rushed through my mind. Each and every one reflecting how much I had failed and worthless I was.

At age 7, I’d had dreams of becoming a pianist. But a recital gone wrong, when I’d sat frozen with fear had shattered those dreams early. The relentless teasing I’d undergone afterwards only proved that becoming a world-famous pianist was not in the cards for me.

So, I’d dreamt smaller.

Yet, even there, I’d failed.

Dad had wanted me to attend Harvard. To follow in his footsteps. And though I wasn’t sure what degree I’d pursue once I’d arrived, I’d put my heart and soul into trying to get into an Ivy League School.

Despite busting my arse all throughout high school, earning myself a 4.0 GPA, they had found my admittance letter lacking. I was just one amongst hundreds of hopefuls and I had failed to stand out of the crowd in a meaningful way.

I touched a hand to my right shoulder. Hidden underneath my t-shirt was the mottled scar. After I’d failed to get into the college of my dreams, I’d been moping at home before falling asleep with the electric blanket still on. The first sign that something had gone horribly wrong was the sharp pain in my shoulder. When I’d opened my eyes, the polyester shirt I’d been wearing had melted, twisting into my skin.

Mum had thought it was a self-harming incident. She’d argued with Dad and had taken me to see a psychiatrist.

That was when she’d first been diagnosed with depression and anxiety.

But it was the pain that had troubled me over the years. By the time I’d graduated, I couldn’t really function. A trip to the doctors saw me prescribed with medication to deal with the chronic pain.

It worked. To a degree. Dulling the short sharp lances down the right side of my body into a dull ache.

Yet it wasn’t gone.

Rather it lurked beneath the surface, ready to rise to the surface.

It would never leave.

If I wanted to be free of it, to be free of the doubts that plagued me, it would so much easier to put an end to it all. And I had the solution right in the palm of my hands. I merely had to take a little too much, my breathing would slow, and I’d never have to deal with all the failures that my life had become.

Twisting open the bottle cap, I hesitated for a moment before I poured the first few painkillers out into my hands.

This was it.

It was now or never.

Did I take that final step? Was it worth it to walk into that good night? To put an end to my story?

Before I could make that choice, however, I heard a soft mewling somewhere in the silent apartment.

What in the world?

I tried to shut it out, resolute in my decision. But it kept going. Rubbing my nerves raw.

Returning the pills to the bottle, I clambered from the tub, nearly slipping in the process. After I put the bottles back into the medicinal cabinet, my heart still beating a hundred miles a minute, I studied my wan reflection in the mirror. Dark purple circles underscored my blue grey eyes. Matted strands of red hair clung to my face when once it had been filled with life.

How quickly my life had spiralled.

The mewling started again and I tore myself away from the bathroom, finding a pair of pants to pull on.

I padded to the living room but couldn’t find the source of the mewling. My mind was already racing back to when I’d first found the box of kittens at my doorstep.

There had been four kittens in the box. I was sure of it.

And when I’d handed the box to Vanya at the pet shop, there had been four kittens inside.

So, why could I still hear mewling within the confines of my one-bedroom apartment?

Having no luck in the living room, I headed to my bedroom. Seated on top of my covers was a kitten that was almost entirely black except for its paws and the white dot on its forehead. It came up to me, curiosity shining in its eyes, as I approached before nuzzling my outstretched hand.

I gave it a scritch behind the ears before glancing up at the clock on the wall. Maybe I could head back into town and hand this one over to Vanya as well. Not that she would be the best person to give it to. Her conversation with Joan had forever tainted my initial impression. But with a start, I realised just how late the hour was. By the time I arrived, the shop would be closed.

The little kitten would have to stay with me. At least for the night.

I was pulled from my thoughts as it mewled at me again. She was hungry and wanted something to fill her stomach.

While I hadn’t been contemplating cooking anything up for dinner, and in fact didn’t feel hungry at all, I couldn’t just let the kitten starve because of my own bad choices.

“Wait right here,” I said to it. “Let me see what I have.”

The kitten looked up at me with its huge blue eyes, letting out a little needy cry that seemed to demand that I hurry up. Bossy little thing, I thought, as I headed back to the kitchen and to my mostly empty fridge. Although I’d restocked a few days ago, I didn’t know if I had something appropriate for a kitten.

I reached for my phone to google what types of human food would be appropriate for cats to eat before realising that my phone was still sitting on the ground of my bedroom, the screen cracked after I’d thrown it at the wall after the encounter with Joan at the pet shop.

Hurrying back to my bedroom, the kitten meowed in greeting.

“Sorry. Just recovering my phone. I’ll be back.” With that, I grabbed my phone and headed back to the kitchen, pulling up Google as I did.

I glanced through the first page of results, noting the cooked meats, the few vegetables that were listed and the small pieces of fruit.

Opening the fridge, I looked through my measly stock.

Well, I had some chicken and broccoli and carrots.

Maybe I could whip up something simple. The thought of preparing a meal flipped a switch inside me and my stomach let out a small growl. For the first time in weeks, I had something of an appetite.

It had been hours since I last ate. When I had eaten, it had been something simple. Some toast, slathered with jam along with a middling coffee. Then I’d binged on some chips and beer. Nothing substantial.

Looking at the ingredients in my fridge, I decided to whip up a quick stir fry. Something that would satisfy me until the next day. After all, I needed to keep myself alive until I could think of what to do with the kitten.

In my mind, it deserved a fulfilling life with a good owner. It needed someone that could shower it with unconditional love.

And that person was definitely not me.

I was back in the office again, working on a project that I’d been assigned. As I clicked open the email to refresh myself on the parameters, nothing seemed to make sense. The words were difficult to parse. The sentences went round in circles before trailing off into nonsense.

Desperate, I sent through a message on the group messenger to Joan. Knowing she’d be able to assist me. She had always been there for me in the past.

But as I hit ‘enter’ on the keyboard, the memory of the encounter at the pet shop swam through my mind. A growing sense of dread and panic rose in my gut. Behind me, the voices in the open office space began to swell as people began to whisper and gossip.

I caught snippets of their conversations. None of it good. All of them about what I liability I was for the company. That they would be better off if I vanished from the face of the planet.

And, was it me or were there eyes drilling into the back of my skull?

Breathing became hard as I tried to fight the rising terror that had gripped me. I wanted to turn around but I didn’t want the others to know that their words were affecting me.

If I kept my head down and did my work…

Clipped footfalls sounded behind me.

Dread made its way down my spine. It felt like ants were crawling on my neck. The itch was intense. And all I wanted to do was turn around and say I was sorry. Why I felt the need to apologise didn’t matter. I just knew that I had to.

“Cheryl.” It was Joan’s voice. Slowly, hesitantly, I turned around to face her.

Words clung to my throat. I wanted to say something but my chest was so heavy. It was like a weight was pressing on me. Robbing me of breath. Robbing me of sound.

“Jo—“ I tried to say her name but couldn’t seem to wrap my lips around it. It was just too hard.

She cocked her head to the side, confused, before she reached out to me, the picture of concern. “Cheryl, we need to talk. Would you come with me, please?”

Before I could nod and follow her, something in my chest constricted.

I flailed, pushing something off my face as I blearily blinked up at my dark bedroom. Sunlight was peeking through the underside of the blinds. And resting on my pillow, looking sheepish was the stowaway kitten that had wormed its way into my life.

“What is it now, Princess?”

She mewled at me before agilely landing on the ground and began to claw at the door. Picking up my phone, I glanced at the screen. 9AM. On a freakin’ Saturday. I wanted to groan and sidle back underneath the covers.

But Princess was having none of that. There was only one thing on her mind. Breakfast.

“Fine. Let me get dressed first, okay? And stop sitting on my face. If you aren’t careful, you’ll kill me and who will feed you then?”

Princess spun around, sat down on her haunches and started licking her paws clean. It was a clear sign that she hadn’t been listening. Nor did she care.

With a sigh, I looked around for something to throw on.

Already, Princess had been with me for three months. I don’t know how she’d managed to entangle my life with hers but she had. Despite my best intentions of bringing her to Vanya, the pet shop owner, Princess had been nowhere to be found when I was ready to leave. When I did finally spot her hidden on the upper shelf of my wardrobe, it had taken the entire day to coax her down.

The next day, she’d utterly refused to leave the apartment, sneaking out of the makeshift cage I’d made for her from a few pieces of scrap cardboard that someone had tossed out for recycling.

By the end of the week, I’d given up.

Princess clearly wasn’t going anywhere.

But that left me saddled with a kitten to look after and no job in sight.

True, I might not have properly resigned from the firm I’d walked out on but I had as good as done so. The calls and text messages had slowed to a dribble. My last message from Joan told me of her disappointment that I would step away after all these years when I was so close to reaching my fifteenth year.

So, I’d sat down in front of a computer and forced myself to apply for every single job that caught my eye.

In the end, I’d taken on an administrative role with a startup tech firm. The pay was much lower than what I’d earned in my previous position as senior project lead. But considering the fact that they had essentially offloaded all my responsibilities on Brett…

I caught myself right before I spiralled.

My first order of business for today was to get breakfast for Princess.

“Here you are, my Princess,” I said to the kitten as I opened up a packet of salmon cat food and poured the contents into her bowl. “Eat up.”

Princess looked up at me with her big blue eyes and meowed before digging in. Watching her enjoyment, I felt something warm and fuzzy suffuse my chest. A smile pulled at my lips before I caught it.

Squashing the fleeting glow of not-quite-happiness down deep, because I knew that it was undeserved, I turned away to prepare my own morning meal. After all, breakfast was the most important meal of the day. Or so my mum had told me growing up.

And maybe there was some wisdom to it, I thought as I pulled out a loaf of bread in the freezer, some peanut butter and jam from the pantry and laid it all down on the counter.

It was hard to imagine life without Princess anymore. She had barged into my life and demanded that I be the one to look after her. Just like a little prima donna or a rich lady of leisure. But while I’d been tempted to name her Queen for her imperious and spoiled ways, there was also a wild side to Princess that decided me on her name.

Breakfast sandwich made, I flopped down on the couch with my morning cup of coffee, a peeled apple and turned on the TV. Princess snuggled in beside me, purring as I stroked her head.

Life wasn’t quite perfect. Not just yet.

But there was a light now in the very dark tunnel I found myself in. The battles were still hard but I now had something to fight for.

At least for now.

I wasn’t sure how long I’d be with Princess. It was still my personal opinion that she would be better served with a proper owner that had their shit all sorted out rather than with me. And I’d raised the fact with my therapist who had only nodded and scribbled something in her notepad before asking me if I’d had any more instances of suicidal ideation.

Rain pissed down on my head. My hair was matted to my scalp. But I cared not as I ventured further down the dark street, calling for Princess. I was desperate to have her back with me at home where it was warm and I could put on a dumb movie for the two of us to watch. Maybe something light and fun. Like Oliver and Company.

Why had I left the door to the apartment open?

“It’ll be okay, Cheryl. I’m sure Princess isn’t too far off.” I looked up at the man carrying an umbrella and forced a smile to my face.

Yang was one of my neighbours a few doors down. He was a lanky man with a mop of unruly hair with blond highlights. Framing his face were a pair of rectangular half-rim glasses. A blue parka sat atop his black jeans.

He had been the only one to volunteer his assistance. My other neighbours had all shook their heads and closed their doors when I’d asked if they had seen a black and white cat called Princess. Even the one that lived right opposite me in the hallway. She was a nervous spindly woman in her late 40s. But while she had helped me out when I first moved in, offering a basket of goodies, we’d had little interaction since except when we exchanged ‘hellos’ in the elevator.

“I just…I just need to find her.”

“Don’t worry. We will.”

I held onto Yang’s words like an anchor. Princess meant everything to me.

Little by little, she had wormed her way into my heart and had pulled me back from the brink, focusing my thoughts on the things I could do and serving as motivation to be a better person in general. Now that she was gone, I felt cast adrift. There was nothing to keep me grounded.

Once more the doubts came creeping in.

Had Princess left me too? Would I be alone again? Friendless except for the fleeting encounters I shared with those I’d known in high school and college?

Everybody was so busy these days, preoccupied with life.

Nobody cared to look behind the façade I’d put up. Nobody cared to ask how I was doing or if I was okay.

“Hey, hey, hey! Look at me, Cheryl. We’re gonna find her. Just breathe.”

I nodded, though my gaze was focused on the concrete pavement beneath my feet. With effort, I focused on slowing down my breathing before the panic took me to parts unknown.

I felt something warm rub my back.

“It’s going to be okay. We’ve got this. And, if not today, I can see about making some posters, yeah? Everything is going to be fine Cheryl.”

“Thanks Yang. Maybe we give it another half hour? Sorry. I just want to make sure we’ve checked everything nearby.”

“Yeah. Sure. I’m good to go.”

We combed the block twice more before Yang escorted me back to my apartment. He said nothing as we trudged down the hallway.

After all, what was there to say to a distraught woman who had just lost the only guiding light in her life?

Without Princess, I was nothing except a broken human being who had no purpose and was better left in a ditch somewhere.

There was nothing for me without Princess. Absolutely nothing.

As we approached the door to my apartment, though, there came a familiar mewl. Sitting on the welcome mat with a disgruntled expression was Princess. Just like me, she was a little bedraggled. But a quick glance told me that she wasn’t harmed in any way.

Relief flooded through my entire body. Had it not been for Yang, I might have collapsed to the ground.

“So, you’re planning on moving? When?” asked Yang, curling his legs up underneath the duvet as he spooned a mouthful of ice cream.

“Yeah. It’s just not affordable in the city anymore. And there’s just too many bad memories here. I think a change might be nice.”

“What about me?” he asked, turning to face me instead of the movie we watching. Die Hard.

I smiled. “Well, there have been a few good ones,” I admitted, nudging Yang on the arm. He grinned at me. “Memories, that is. During this past year.”

“Thanks. Good to know that I quantify as a memory.”

“I’m only joking, Yang. You’ve been a great friend to me and I’ll miss hanging out with you in a few weeks’ time.”

“Oh, I know. I’m gonna miss having these hangouts too. Who knew I had such a cool neighbour for these past five years and never knew?”

My cheeks flushed. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that I’m very cool. In fact, I’m not very interesting much at all.”

“Methinks the lady doth protest too much.”

“Oh, shut up,” I said, lightly punching Yang on the shoulder.

“Hey! Watch it! I’m fragile!”

I cocked an eyebrow at Yang. God. He was such a melodramatic Leo. No wonder he was trying to become an actor instead of something useful. Like a doctor.

“Okay, fine. I’m not that fragile but you ought to know you can’t treat me like this.”

“Yeah, yeah. I wouldn’t want your girlfriend to come knocking on my door,” I said. “Honestly, I’m still not sure what she sees in you. She’s so accomplished and you’re just…well, you.”

“Hurtful!”

Exchanging a look, the two of us broke into giggles before turning our attention back to the movie right as Bruce Willis was crawling through the air vents.

A few minutes later, Yang looked once more in my direction.

“So, what about the commute?” he asked, curious.

“Well,” I said, “the good thing about this new role that I’ve got is that they offer plenty of work from home options. So, I won’t be taking the subway every day. But, even if I were, it’s only about forty minutes door-to-door. Not too shabby, if you ask me.”

Princess chose that moment to jump onto the couch. She settled in my lap and looked plaintively up at me, begging to be petted. I did so, unable to resist any of her demands.

Was she as eager as me about moving to the new place? I hoped she was. It hadn’t been as cheap as I had told Yang.

Or would she, instead, miss the old apartment? Miss Yang, perhaps, and the old haunts she favoured?

When I’d been hunting for a new place to call home, I’d brought her with me. I’d felt it important that we make the decision together. After all, Princess was an important member of the household.

Of course, she hadn’t much liked the cage. It had been impossible to coax her inside.

But she had been amenable to the backpack with a small bubble that Princess could poke her head through to look around.

It was the second apartment that we’d been looking at that she had fallen in love with. While it was still a small one-bedroom apartment, albeit with a study, the views of the river from the balcony had been stunning. Even Princess had mewled her approval.

Better yet, neither the owner or building management had been fussed about her bringing along a pet. In fact, they welcomed it.

“So, your earlier question, Yang, was that your attempt at offering to help out with the move?”

Yang kept his gaze fixed on the television as he spooned up another mouthful of double-choc mint ice-cream. “Maybe,” he said after a moment.

I turned my head to look at him. But he kept his eyes rigidly focused on the younger Alan Rickman, may he rest in peace always, as he monologued his evil plans. If Yang wasn’t already taken, I might have just snapped him up for myself. Despite his questionable career path, he was a good man.

And, dare I say it, a good friend. I cherished these small moments we shared.

For the first time in a long while, I had someone that cared about me and didn’t want anything beyond just my company. My heart swelled up at the thought and I dabbed at the corner of my eyes before turning my attention back to the TV.

I still wasn’t sure what Yang saw in me, personally, but I felt that in that moment, curled up on the couch watching Die Hard, it didn’t matter. Not in the slightest.

He was my friend. And I knew he would be there for me. Through thick or thin.

His was a friendship without conditions; without artifice. And I could rely on him as much as I needed.

I had just been grocery shopping at my local Albertsons when I’d seen Briony. She was immaculate as ever, her hair styled into a coif although she was dressed like she’d just been at the gym. Beside her was a young girl, presumably her daughter, who looked about eleven.

They hadn’t noticed me as they headed in the opposite direction down the aisle.

Well, Briony wouldn’t. She was just as self-absorbed as ever. It was why I’d always hated working with her.

As she passed me by, I could hear her speaking. But it wasn’t to her daughter. Instead, she was talking into a Bluetooth headset.

“—you believe it? They’ve asked me whether or not I’d take a voluntary redundancy. Me? Yeah, mhmm. If it hadn’t been for the fact that Cheryl—” There was a brief pause as she grabbed a box of cereal from the shelf. “Fuck her. She walked away when the company needed her most. And fuck Joan. Always having a ready excuse to explain away—”

I didn’t hear the rest as I turned the corner and was out of earshot. Standing next to a shelf stacked to the brim with all sorts of chips, I took a moment to steady my breathing and calm my beating heart.

What had all that been about?

No. I wouldn’t go there. It wasn’t my business. I’d stepped away from the company.

And yet, a part of me couldn’t help but wonder what had happened in the end with the project that they had given Brett. It had been a big one. One that might have consolidated my position and perhaps earned me a promotion. Coming in on Thursday, I’d tried my best to set up a plan given the fact that I’d taken some unexpected leave on the Wednesday. Joan, however, had dashed all of that.

Maybe it hadn’t been her call, exactly, but after overhearing her at the pet shop, I couldn’t stop the anger that rose to the surface. She was my immediate manager.

Why hadn’t she ever fought for me?

I had thought she’d cared. Had seen me as more than just another number. But in the end, I had simply been a pawn for her corporate aspirations.

Resentment, hot and dark and terrible, bubbled under my skin, leaving a sour taste in my mouth.

I’d never received much closure after stepping away. But there had been a thousand and one different things I’d wanted to say. And it came as a surprise that despite the year that had passed, it had never left me.

It was something I’d not been able to let go.

Even with Princess in my life. And even with the positive steps I’d taken in therapy.

It was something that I needed closure on.

With that thought in mind, I picked up the remaining goods that I needed and headed for the checkout. There were a lot of things that were weighing heavily on my mind.

Princess was sat on the kitchen counter when I walked in, laden down with groceries. She cocked her head as I set the bags down before padding over to me and demanding that I scritch her behind the ears.

“I hope you behaved yourself while I was gone,” I said as she strutted past me to the edge of the counter.

The expression on her face would have curdled butter, such was the contempt in that furry face of hers, as she turned around to look at me over her shoulder. “Do you really think I wouldn’t?” she said in a deep sonorous voice that should have surprised me. “I’m no bright-eyed bushy-tailed kitten any longer, Cheryl. And I can tell that something’s on your mind. If you ask me, you need to pay Joan a visit. Show her exactly the pain you went through.”

“How, Princess? It’s not like she’ll just let me talk it out with her. Heck, I probably wouldn’t be able to get my foot in the door.”

“You know that’s not what I mean, Cheryl.”

“I don’t understand, Princess,” I said to the cat. And truly, I didn’t.

Princess padded up to me, her tail brushing against my chin. “You already know what needs to be done, Cheryl. Don’t make me spell it out for you. And you ought to do it tonight. After all, it’ll still be the weekend and we both know you need your seven hours of sleep if it’s a weeknight.”

“But—” Before I could put forth my arguments to the contrary, Princess had hopped off the kitchen counter and had headed for the bathroom where her litter box had been placed.

I remained standing next to the fridge as I tried to sift through the hidden implications in Princess’s words.

My history with Joan was a long and troubled one. Did I have what it took to finally confront her over it all? Or was it better to just push it out of mind and keep it buried where no-one would be able to see the hidden ugliness of it all?

I glanced towards the bathroom where Princess had vanished into.

Princess had said I knew the answer to this dilemma. But the thought of actually seeing it through was terrifying. And it made me wonder if this was truly what I wanted.

But although I agonised over what I ought to do as I packed all the groceries away, in the end, I knew Princess was right. A reckoning was coming.

It was do or die.

And as the hour ticked closer to midnight, I packed my bag for everything that I would need. Princess watched on. She sat in the shadows, licking clean her paws. She glanced up and from where I was standing, the light, as it hit her eyes, made them look demonically red.

It should have frightened me but I only felt a sense of calm suffuse my entire being.

This was right.

This was a means of bringing back balance to my shattered life and the broken dreams that had plagued me since childhood.

I had to do this.

If not, then I would be forever adrift, unable to be satisfied with my lot in life. And it would only be a matter of time before I took that last drastic step and fall into the deep and dark abyss that had been threatening to swallow me whole since time immemorial.

Glancing up once again at the clock in the living room, I gave a resolute nod to Princess before padding towards the door. Princess barely looked in my direction. She had turned around to watch the TV as Annie Murphy appeared on screen. The Canadian actress had two white streaks in her hair.

Taking a deep breath, I turned the knob and stepped through in my black hoodie, back jeans and comfortable black joggers. I would be as a shadow. Unseen and unheard.

The door clicked close behind me.

I was alone.

Joan lived in a four-bedroom house on the outskirts of the city. I’d been there only once before for a 4th of July celebration. All I really remembered was her huge backyard set up with two barbecue grills, four plastic tables and boiling in the hot July sun as we chatted inanely about their favourite sporting teams or the weather or provided anecdotes about their children.

The lights were off as I did a circuit around the block, looking for a place to park my car.

I couldn’t park it too close lest it seem suspicious but I didn’t want to be too far away in case things went awry. There was Brutus, after all, to contend with.

Not that he would be much trouble.

From my recollections, he had been an amicable Yorkshire Terrier. Though he could be excitable among strangers.

He’d never much liked me when I met him the first time, although he hadn’t tried to bite me either. It was a mystery on how he’d react if he could smell Princess on me, though.

But it didn’t matter. The plan was to keep him distracted. If that failed, I would need to find another way to silence him. Joan couldn’t be forewarned. At any cost.

The streets were empty as I crept towards Joan’s house.

Thankfully, living where she did, Joan had eschewed the need for actual security cameras. Rather, she had installed fake ones to deter any potential thieves. But given that she lived in a fairly well-to-do neighbourhood, the risk of a burglary was small.

No-one saw me as I hopped the gate that led into the backyard. From my backpack, I pulled out a packet of dog treats. Hopefully it would be enough to get him off my back for however long it would take me to find either an unlocked door or break in via the glass slide door.

There was another packet for when I needed to leave. Although, by then, perhaps I could simply waltz through the front door instead.

I stalked forward, ears alert for the sound of barks and the pattering of tiny feet.

But to my surprise, there was no sign of the Yorkshire Terrier in the yard. There were no yips of outrage as I padded over to the sliding door that separated the living room from the backyard.

The first indication that something strange was going on was when I reached the porch and noticed a dark stain on the mosaic tiles. It meandered its way around the corner of the house.

The eerie silence only made it worse.

Once again, my thoughts turned to Brutus. I couldn’t help but wonder if something terrible had happened to the dog. To my knowledge, he was only about five years old. Hardly the time for him to die of old age, Yorkshire Terrier or not.

But since I’d never been close to Joan, I couldn’t say for certain that her pet had had any health problems.

Shaking the thought away, I pulled lightly on the glass door and watched in surprise as it slid open. Clearly Joan and her family didn’t think much of basic security. Although, growing up with their privileged lifestyle, it came as no surprise to me as I crept into the living room.

Inside, I took stock of the perfect modernity that was Joan’s living space. Right in front of me was her three-seat couch with chaise longue. A rich carpet lay underfoot with a heavy coffee table serving to hold it down. A vase of flowers worked as the centrepiece.

Her 80’ inch 4K TV had been mounted to the wall. Next to it were a stack of DVDs and CDs. Of the titles, I could see nothing and I didn’t want to risk turning on the light just to sate my morbid curiosity.

All of it screamed opulence.

It only made me hate Joan more as I headed deeper inside. The stairs, if I recalled, hadn’t been too far.

As I turned the corner, I slipped on something sticky on the ground. Thinking fast, I grabbed onto the wooden bannisters to prevent myself from falling and managed to arrest myself before I took an unsightly tumble that might have warned Joan or her family of my presence.

What had I even slipped on? Had her kids spilt juice on her hardwood floors? If so, it would be a pain to clean up and I didn’t envy Joan the task. Although, come to think of it, she probably had a cleaner come by to help out.

Still, I couldn’t help but thank my lucky stars that I’d never had any children.

Once my heartbeat had calmed down to something reasonable, I started to climb the stairs. It was slow going. I didn’t want to set off any creaky floorboards and announce my position.

But I reached the top of the stairs without incident.

Glancing down the hallway, I could see nothing except the shadows of picture frames and closed doors. No doubt they were filled with pictures of family holidays where Joan, her husband and two children were enjoying themselves. Her desk had always been cluttered with mementos from her children. The lock screen on her phone had been a professional photoshoot of her and her husband, Brutus between them.

From memory, the master bedroom had been at the farthest end.

As I took a cautious step forward, the floorboard creaked beneath my foot and I immediately froze.

Seconds passed into minutes but there was no sound to indicate that anyone had heard. Letting out the breath I was holding, I crept forward ever so slowly.

All of this needed to go smoothly.

When I reached the door to the master bedroom, though, I found it standing slightly ajar. There was a soft gentle light peeking through, as if someone had turned on a nightstand lamp.

Odd. That didn’t seem right, I thought, as I gently pushed the door open.

It swung open on well-oiled hinges and revealed what could only be described as a crime scene. The blankets and sheets and pillows had been strewn across the floor. They were coated with feathers, having been ripped open. To the right, a portrait of Joan and her husband had three long gashes torn through it.

Finally, my eyes trailed to the sight that I’d been avoiding.

The body that lay on the bed.

I’d never talked to Joan’s husband. Didn’t have much of an opinion of him. In my head, he was a non-person, an accessory to the very real Joan that I knew in my day-to-day life when I worked at the company.

But there he lay, eyes wide open in shock as they stared up at the ceiling. Blood flecked his cheeks, his stubble, and his messy brown hair. In his chest was a gaping hole.

Fuck! Fuck! What had I just walked into?

As I doubled over to empty the contents of my stomach, I caught a black and white shape in the corner of my eye. Wiping my mouth clean, I glanced towards the chest at the foot of the bed.

Sitting atop it was Princess, looking nonplussed as she licked her paws clean.

Her paws that were stained a deep red.

“You’re a little late, Cheryl. But no matter. I saved the best for last. You’ll find Joan cowering in the bathroom. Ready for you,” said Princess. Her voice reverberated around the room, dark and ominous.

Cold prickled on the back of my neck

This wasn’t right. This couldn’t be right.

I backed away from Princess, chest feeling tight.

“Oh, come now. You aren’t thinking of getting cold feet at the penultimate moment, are you Cheryl?”

“No,” I said, my back hitting the wall. “No. No, no, no. What have you done, Princess? This isn’t what I wanted.”

God, was it me or had it become incredibly hard to breathe? Each breath seemed to take more effort than the last. And they were all shallow.

Was I going to have a panic attack? I thought, cradling my head. This wasn’t real, right? It couldn’t be real.

Princess hopped off the chest and approached me, her tail twitching in the air. “Cheryl, Cheryl, Cheryl. Of course, it is.” And then she pounced at me.

I jolted awake, gasping for breath. Princess, startled from her perch atop my face, landed on the floor, hackles raised. I took a few deep breaths and tried to slow my racing heartbeat.

It had all been a nightmare. A horrid and terrible nightmare.

After all, I hadn’t bumped into Briony when I was shopping for groceries but rather Joan herself. She hadn’t seen me as I headed down the aisle, too busy wrestling with her youngest who was throwing a tantrum about wanting Frosty Flakes for breakfast.

My old manager had looked worn, dressed as she had been in sweatpants. Her hair was a mess and there were dark circles under her eyes as she sternly told her youngest that only students with a 3.5 GPA deserved Frosty Flakes. Right as her eldest surreptitiously slipped two packs of Dorito chips to the already huge pile in the shopping trolley.

Watching them from the corner of my eye as I picked looked through the condiments, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for Joan. She had always presented herself as professional in the office. With her placid smile in place, she had always told me that she was keen to help. That there was no question to stupid that she couldn’t field.

And while I desperately wanted to hold onto that image of Joan, I knew that she wasn’t perfect.

Looking back, I had been in a vulnerable state. Hurt and grieving and overwhelmed. Joan hadn’t fought hard enough for me, her concern only surface-level.

Maybe for anyone else, it would have been fine.

But I had been drowning in doubt and self-recrimination.

A part of me still resented the fact that she hadn’t been there for me when I’d needed her. The support I’d come to lean on over the years had decided to take a step back. I’d fallen down, looking for a hand to help pick me up.

Then she had to deal me a second crippling blow when I’d overheard her with Vanya the pet shop owner.

That had when the veil of ignorance had truly been ripped away and I realised that Joan was just as human as the rest of us.

Did I resent her for that?

A little.

But as I sat in bed, reminding myself to breathe, I looked down at Princess, who had hopped back onto my bed and was making herself comfortable at the foot of my bed, and wondered if what I truly wanted was closure.

After all, Joan didn’t owe me anything. Rather, I’d leaned on her for so long. She wasn’t the one to blame for my downward spiral. Nor had she agreed to be my anchor in a toxic workplace that was always seeking to pit every single employee against each other.

We hadn’t parted on good terms and that had been my fault.

I’d been living too much in my own head, letting every small comment trigger a meltdown.

Had it not been for what had transpired, I might never have walked away.

I shuddered to think what my life might have been if I had stayed. Would I be lying in a grimy alley somewhere, unloved, friendless and forgotten? Another victim of the big city lifestyle that had claimed so many others?

True, I still wasn’t in the best headspace now but I’d made some headway in clawing myself away from the abyss that was never too far away. My therapist said it would be a gruelling journey, coming to love oneself. Yet with Princess by my side, it didn’t seem as hard or as insurmountable as I’d initially thought.

With her in my life, I was too busy to be lonely. And I’d also made some fast friends. Both at my workplace and with my neighbours.

That didn’t mean that all my wounds had been healed, but I was learning to take each new day in stride.

Slowing down had been one of the best decisions in my life.

And it had all been because of Joan.

So, I didn’t resent her for that. I couldn’t.

Having cleared my thoughts on the matter, I turned to look at the alarm clock next to me. 3:34AM. It was time to get back to sleep. When it was a much more reasonable hour, perhaps I’d think of something to send Joan as a parting farewell gift.

It wasn’t the closure that I wanted, but it was probably the one I needed. My therapist had always said that oft times, it was how we thought about things that really informed our view of the world. So, maybe if I changed my thinking around, I could learn to forgive past wrongs and move on with my life.

As I laid back down to bed, I did so with a smile on my face as I made peace with the past and finally let it go.

#short story #fictionpress #depression #loneliness #cats #the shadow of broken dreams #not on wattpad #I graduated from angsty teen to angsty office worker

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kyndaris · 10 months

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Scorned

As always, I've uploaded this story to my FictionPress and Wattpad already. But I thought I'd let those that read my blog a chance to read it as well without having to click away. It is, after all, a short story. For my longer novel-length stories, head over to https://www.fictionpress.com/u/577676/scattered-wind or https://www.wattpad.com/user/Kyndaris if you like to use Wattpad instead.

Stepping into the chapel, it was like we had entered a new world. The pews had been decorated with garlands. Similarly, the pulpit, where the minister would shortly stand, was flanked by two heaving bouquets of sickly-sweet flowers. Looking up, one could glimpse strings of fairy lights that had been strung up on the Gothic arches.

And gathered together for this most auspicious occasion were those nearest and dearest to the bride and groom.

It was to be the perfect wedding.

It should have been the perfect wedding.

But just as the ceremony was in full swing, right before the bride and groom were to kiss, a bedraggled woman in a tattered white dress – held back by two security guards – pushed her way through the doors of the chapel. Her black hair hung lankly and her lips were chapped. There was a wild look in her eyes as she struggled forward, mascara running down her face.

“I object!” she spat. “This farce has gone on long enough.”

The entire chapel went silent, as if we had all decided to hold our breath as we watched the events unfold.

“Has she told you the truth, Arthur? The real reason behind it all? Has she even told you her real name?”

All eyes turned towards the groom – Arthur – as he dropped the hands of his bride-to-be and stepped forward, face red, looking as if all he wanted to do was rip the woman in half with his bare hands.

I could see the thoughts churn in his head. How dare this stranger come in, wearing white no less, and object? On what grounds? And on this most happy and momentous day? The sheer nerve!

But the words she spoke, they tickled something in the back of my mind. What did she mean?

Thinking back, I knew that the union between Melissa and Arthur had been contentious. The reason why had always been subject to rumour but I’d not paid it much mind at the time. I was simply happy that Arthur had found someone after the disastrous breakup with Caitlin all those years ago.

Besides, I was just a family friend. My invitation to the wedding was almost an afterthought.

I glanced towards the bride, hoping for further enlightenment. Melissa’s face was as pale as death. It was almost as if she had seen a ghost. And it clashed horribly with her wedding dress with its long train and veil that stood in contrast to her dark coloured hair.

“You have no right to be here! No right to even object!” roared Arthur, taking my attention back to the unfolding drama between the mysterious woman and the groom. Arthur turned to his brother, one finger pointed out in a silent decree. “Get her out of here, Harold! Never let this piece of filth darken our doorstep ever again! I don’t want to see her ever again.”

Harold glanced between the woman and his younger brother. After a moment’s hesitation, Harold took hold of the woman’s arm, none too gently. Then he, along with the two security guards, frogmarched her out the exit.

I watched her go, wondering at her words and Arthur’s visceral reaction. There was more to the story here. I could feel it. But it wasn’t my place to ask anything. Not yet, anyways, with the ceremony still underway. It simply wouldn’t be polite. And I had been raised better than that.

It took several minutes for the guests to quiet. Many were trying to figure out who the mysterious woman was as they whispered to those beside them. Nothing of this scale had ever happened before at anyone else’s wedding.

Arthur, still fuming, struggled to hold back his anger if his clenched jaw and white knuckled fists were any indication. No doubt he would have roared at us to shut up if he could. Thankfully, Harold returned shortly afterwards and whispered something into the minister’s ear.

As he reread the sermon before the exchange of vows again, everyone settled back into their seats. Melissa and Arthur resumed their place before him.

Despite the fact that seems should have returned to normal, Melissa still seemed visibly shaken from the encounter. Her eyes would constantly dart towards the doors of the church. As if she was expecting a reappearance of the mad woman.

Was it worry? Or was it fear?

I was pulled from my thoughts when the rest of the guests clapped their hands as Melissa and Arthur pressed their lips together in what could have been described as the most perfunctory and wooden performance I had ever seen in my twenty-five years of life. It was worse than the travesty that was the kiss between Cho Chang and Harry Potter in the film version of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

Melissa was the first to break away from the kiss as she turned towards the audience.

Together, they sat back down to the side as the minister stepped forward to lead everyone through a round of hymns.

As we sang, I noticed from the corner of my eye how Melissa leaned in close to Arthur as she whispered into his ear. The tension returned in his jaw but he maintained a façade of calm as he squeezed her fingers. He muttered something back in reply to Melissa.

Her face blanched but she said nothing more. Focused, instead, on mouthing the words that she probably didn’t feel. How interesting.

And just like that, the wedding ceremony ended.

Soon, there would be a series of photographs and a reception to be held at a fancy hotel later in the evening. Tedious affairs, to be sure, but that was what weddings had become in this modern age. They were meant to be spectacles of the internet age. I’d seen so many of my friends dressed in their white flowing dresses in as many different settings as there were stars in the night sky.

Melissa and Arthur’s wedding was the fifth I’d attended this year.

Rising from my seat, I headed to the bathroom to freshen up. It would be some time before I’d be called up for a group photo with the rest of my family.

The bathroom was empty as I entered the stall. But as soon as I shut the door, I heard two women come in. They were talking in hushed voices.

“—so distasteful.”

“I know, right? Melissa, though, was very good at keeping it together. I don’t think I could have been so calm if someone were to barge in on my wedding, wearing that poor excuse of a dress.”

“Did you see the look on Arthur’s face? I thought he was going to explode.”

“Would have served her right. I think I would have cheered.”

“Myrtle, no! Don’t you know who she is?”

“A crazed lady, by all accounts.”

“That was Caitlin’s younger sister, Larissa!”

That was when I chose to make my presence known as I made a show of flushing the toilet and stepped out of the stall. I flashed Myrtle and Norma a polite smile as I went to the furthest sink to wash my hands.

“Are the two of you looking forward to the reception?” I asked, pretending as if I hadn’t heard a word that they had exchanged earlier. “I remember that they said it was going to be at the Intercontinental. Think they’ll be lobster?”

With a knowing look, Myrtle winked at me. “Oh, my dear, of course there will be. Arthur’s parents wouldn’t have allowed the wedding to go ahead if it wasn’t on the menu.”

“Indeed,” agreed Norma. “We shall see you outside, yes, Vicky?”

I nodded, keeping my polite smile plastered on my face. “Yes. I’ll see the two of you outside.”

The two of them left and I was left alone to reapply my mascara and touching up my lipstick. When I had finished, I ran a critical eye over my reflection. I had an oval face with high cheekbones. It was pretty but I would have preferred a more defined jawline.

Fanfiction authors that were just starting out in their craft might have described my eyes as dark chocolate gooey orbs, but that would be stretching it a bit far. And a little mortifying to imagine. No, my eyes were brown though they were darker than most. The smoky eyeshadow I had on served to heighten the sense of mystique I had going.

My lips were thin. Paired with my eyebrows, I looked severe. Years of practice in high school had taught me how to soften my look so I could look more naturally friendly. I tried it now, contorting the muscles in my face and going for a concerned expression. It worked though it was a little stiff. I’d have to keep working on it. Especially if I was hoping to use it later in the evening.

Satisfied that my makeup was in order and there was no blemish that needed to be hastily covered up, I exited the toilet. Just in time for the set of photos that my family would be taking with the bride and groom.

By the time the group photographs were done, my cheeks were sore from smiling and my feet from standing. All I wanted to do was head back to my apartment, down a few glasses of shiraz and perhaps call it a night. But, of course, when it came to weddings, there was still the reception and the dancing and the celebrating to get through.

After all, they were meant to be bombastic and loud.

Proof, of course, that we had succeeded in life and would finally live out our ‘happily-ever-afters’. After all, wasn’t that the dream that we were sold in our younger years? Find the one your one true love and everything else will work out? At least, I think that was the message inherent in all Disney films during their renaissance period.

While the others were bidding Arthur and Melissa a prosperous marriage, I took a seat on a nearby bench and slipped off my high heels to give my feet a chance to breathe. Moments later, Harold plopped down beside me, his tie askew. He looked me up and down with an appreciative eye.

“Long day, Vicky?”

“Well, you know me, Harry. I’m always out dancing late into the early hours of the morning.”

He laughed. “Oh yeah? Where’d you go this time?”

“Oh, here and there. Real small clubs. Places you wouldn’t have heard of.”

“Try me.”

“The Yarn and Hook,” I answered. “Where the Crawdads Sing.”

“So, crocheting and reading. That’s so typical of you, Vicky.”

I stuck my tongue out at him. “So you say, Harry. But I’m not the one stalking someone else’s Goodreads.”

Harry and I had been close ever since we were young. Or, well, as close as family friends could be. It was hard when you didn’t attend the same high school and studied different things at university. Social media helped, but when we both became gainfully employed members of society, time seemed to slip away as a general sense of busyness pervaded our everyday.

Him with his finance firm. Me and my journalism.

“Touché,” acceded Harry. He leaned back against the bench. “God, I could go for a drink.”

I couldn’t resist the rejoinder that sprung to my lips. “Long day, Harold?”

He glared at me, knowing that I knew how much he hated his full name. “Why yes, Victoria,” he replied snidely. “I mean, being treated like a servant by your older brother is great fun. Especially when you have to deal with his ex’s crazy sister. And all she’s doing is screeching in your ear. Like, how my escorting her out of the chapel constituted as assault. Or that she’ll press charges.”

“I heard people talking in the bathroom earlier,” I said. “So, that was Larissa? She doesn’t look a lot like Caitlin at all.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that. They are half-sisters, after all. You were seeing her at her worst.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, scooting closer toward Harry.

He looked away. “Forget I said anything. It’s not important.”

“You can’t just offer a journalist the hint of something deeper and then end it at that,” I said. “Come on, Harry. You can trust me. I’m not on the clock. Anything you reveal will be completely off the record.”

Harry sat back up and it was like the jovial playful air that we had enjoyed before had vanished. He stared at me for several uncomfortable seconds. “This isn’t like your usual interviews, Victoria. Larissa is dangerous. If you see her, stay away. I’ve a feeling she might try to sabotage the reception. God only knows how she’ll figure out the location,” he said and rose to his feet.

I watched as Harry left. This had been my one chance at getting more information and I’d bungled it terribly. And I’d probably only served to pour oil on what was already a tenuous position at best. Instead of pressing him for answers, perhaps if I’d more sympathetic…

Something to study up on, I supposed, as I stood up and straightened my dress.

Still, I wasn’t leaving empty-handed. Harry had confirmed what I had overheard in the bathroom and had provided an additional titbit of information that I hadn’t had before. And, as every journalist worth their salt knew, every little morsel helped.

As I headed towards the metro station, I pulled out my phone and messaged someone I hadn’t talked to for a good four years. Ever since Arthur had broken her heart four years ago.

Stepping into the lobby of the Intercontinental was like being whisked off into a fairy tale forest. Arthur and Melissa had spared no expense when it came to the decadent decorations. Huge oaks spiralled up towards the roof, their branches stretching across the ceiling to crown the set of beautiful constellations in the night sky. Half hidden by the canopy was a crescent-shaped moon.

It was beautiful and impressive. And, if I didn’t know any better, I might have bought into the fantasy The only thing missing were the actual creatures that lived in such places and sprightly fae.

As it was, my sheer baby blue dress paired with holographic butterfly wings, which I had bought at a Halloween store, served to match the theme for the wedding reception.

“Excuse me, are you a guest for Arthur and Melissa’s reception?”

The question pulled me back down to cold hard reality. My eyes travelled down from the stars back to the smartly dressed concierge with a forced smile on her face. She was standing next to a simple A3 sized welcome sign embossed with gold.

On it was written: Welcome. We are so glad to have you join us. In smaller script, it read: Follow the petals to the reception hall. Love Arthur and Mel.

“Yes.”

“Do you have your invitation and a form of photo ID?”

“Of course,” I replied, digging in my purse for them both. “I assure you that I did pack them in. Ah, here it is.”

The invitation was lined in silver, the outside edge decorated with intricate floral designs and silhouettes of fairies. In the lower right corner was an artistic rendition of the loving couple, both adorned with huge feathery wings. It was something Melissa had insisted upon and was based on her favourite book series.

The concierge gave it a cursory glance. “And your ID, please?”

“Oh, right.” Opening up my phone, I showed her my digital licence.

“Your mask, ma’am.”

Sheepishly, I removed the gold masquerade mask from my face. The concierge, taking my phone, scrutinised my licence and then looked back at my face. Satisfied, she handed me back my phone. “Follow me. I’ll take you to the reception hall.”

“Don’t I just—” I started, putting my mask back on, and gesturing to the path of petals that led down the corridor to the left.

“That may be so, ma’am, but the groom insisted that all guests be accompanied once their identity has been verified. Please. Follow me.”

Her tone brooking no argument, she turned on her heel and led me down a side passageway opposite to the petals path. After trailing after her through a labyrinthine maze, she stopped outside mahogany panelled function doors. Pushing them open, I stepped down into a ballroom ripped straight out from a fantasy world.

A short marble staircase led down to the dance floor and a ring of tables. A three-tiered cake sat near the long table where the bride and groom would preside over events. Most of the other guests had yet to arrive but that did not stop those that had come early to enjoy a glass of bubbly and a few canapes.

All eyes turned to me as the concierge announced my presence.

Quite a few men looked at me appreciatively but most returned to their conversations. As I walked down the stairs, I scanned the crowd for any familiar faces. Only Harold stood out but he’d barely noticed my presence, wrapped up in a heated discussion with someone I couldn’t quite make out.

A part of me wanted to go back up to him and apologise for what had happened earlier in the day but just as I reached the dance floor, I was accosted by none other than Norma.

She, just like me, had changed outfits. When I had seen her earlier, she had been wearing a simple floral dress with a pastel pink jacket on top. Now, she had changed into a navy asymmetrical cocktail dress. Around her shoulders, she wore an effervescent shawl. Atop her head, she had on a tiny crown.

“I had not expected to see you so early, Vicky. And my, what a lovely outfit you have on. Very chic, as my niece would say.”

“Thank you,” I said. “You also look very delicious tonight, Norma.”

“Oh, nonsense. This was just something I threw on.”

“Well then, you have impeccable taste.”

Norma tittered politely before leaning in closer. “You know, they say that Arthur’s hired additional security for the reception. You should have seen how that concierge lady was staring me down earlier. I thought she wanted to rip my dress of. But no, rumour has it that Arthur wants to make sure everything goes off without a hitch after that frightful display this morning with Larissa.”

“Who?”

“Larissa. Didn’t you know? She’s Caitlin’s sister. And bad, bad news.”

“Wait, that woman who interrupted the ceremony was Caitlin’s sister?” I asked, pretending to ask surprised. “I didn’t know that.”

“Oh yes,” said Norma. “It’s a little-known secret. Rumour has it that Larissa had been obsessed with Arthur from the first. When he was still dating Caitlin. She’d always try and insert herself into situations. Made their entire relationship incredibly difficult. No wonder Arthur stepped away, poor boy.”

“What about the sisters?”

“What about them?”

“Was there any fallout when Arthur broke up with Caitlin? I’m sure if I had a sister that kept trying to force herself into my relationship with a significant other, I’d be livid.”

“You know, Vicky, I never did think to look at it from Caitlin’s perspective,” said Norma. “Most of us ARE friends of Arthur’s parents. And when he broke up with Caitlin, that was the end of it all. Sweet girl, that she is, it wasn’t MY place to prod my nose into her affairs. Why, that would make you a busybody gossip, after all.” She tittered nervously again.

The conversation shifted then into safer waters and after a few minutes more, Norma excused herself and I was once more alone at the reception with almost no-one to talk to. Which I didn’t mind. Arthur had only invited me out of obligation. And with my parents still overseas, I was the sole representative of the family.

If I hadn’t been close to Harold back in our younger years, I couldn’t help but think that I wouldn’t have received an invitation at all.

It was a shame that our fight this morning had soured a little of our relationship.

Still, I was here to celebrate the coming together of Arthur and Melissa, drown myself in red wine and enjoy the highest quality food there was. So, it didn’t matter that Harold and I weren’t quite on talking terms right now. It would fix itself in time.

At least that’s what I told myself as I located my name on Table 13

While there were a few names I recognised, most of the other guests I would be sitting with were unknowns. But that too was okay. This wasn’t my night, anyways. I was just an extra to the grand event. A prop to be used in the photos to show off what a special day it all was.

“How very interesting. You have an undefined aura around you,” said a voice from behind me. “The colours, though vibrant, struggle underneath a pall.”

I jumped, whirling around to face a…little girl about eleven or twelve years of age. She had on a midnight blue gown that barely touched her knees and wore a black velvet butterfly mask to cover her face.

“I don’t understand.”

“That’s okay. Most don’t,” said the girl. “Still, this is a very interesting phenomenon. The only other times I’ve seen something like this happen is when people are lying. Or they’re scared.”

A cold sliver of fear slid down my spine. Had my ruse been discovered? No. The girl was guessing at best, trying to find a weak spot. I forced a smile to my face. “Where are your parents, um…sorry, I didn’t quite get your name?”

“Lilibeth. Lily for short. And my parents are over there,” she pointed to table number 4, “catching up with the Rodrigues. But I got distracted so I didn’t go over.”

“An interesting field of study. Was it something you picked up from reading or…?”

Lilibeth shook her head. “No. I’ve been able to see auras for as long as I can remember. Although, I suppose it was only quite recently that I discovered what exactly it was that I was seeing.”

“And do you see ghosts too?” I asked, a teasing note in my voice.

“While they do exist, I’ve yet to be able to detect—oh! You’re just joking. Right. That’s something people do as well. Or was that your way of saying you find me annoying? I’m not very good with social cues and it was only when Mrs Yu told me directly that I realised she didn’t much like it when I tried to read her aura earlier.”

“Must be hard,” I said.

“Exhausting.”

“Were you at the wedding, Lily? I don’t think I noticed you.”

“I was. But the energy inside that chapel was ugly. Melissa’s aura was very muted and Arthur’s was a spectrum of red. Especially when that woman showed up.”

“And—” Before I could finish my question, there was the tinkling of cutlery on wine glasses and all heads swivelled to the entrance of the ballroom.

Standing at the top, a huge smile on his face was Harold. He put aside his empty wine glass and knife, and accepted the microphone that was handed to him.

“Welcome one and welcome all!”

A thunderous cheer greeted his words. Harold waited for the din to die down before he continued.

“Though the day hasn’t been without its ups and downs, it’s still been a most auspicious day for my older brother, Arthur, and his wife: Melissa. After all, the two got married down at the St Thomas Cathedral! And for those that attended, I’m sure you would agree that it was one of the most magical moments possible.

“Within a few moments, my brother and his wife will be coming in. I’d like it if we could all put our hands together as soon as they enter. Ready?”

And just like that, as if on cue, the doors leading into the ballroom opened. I watched as Arthur, dressed in a satiny black tuxedo with great bat-like wings strapped to his back came through. Melissa was at his side dressed like a fairy queen, a tiara resting on top of her overly sprayed hair, and staring adoringly up at her husband.

Knowing the truth of the matter, it was all kinds of sickening.

I grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and took a sip, turning away from the sight.

“Oh, I see some red peeking through,” said Lily, looking up at a space three inches above my head. “You must be feeling angry. Is it because you might also have liked Uncle Arthur in the past?”

“What?” I sputtered, almost spitting out my drink. “Where would you get that idea?”

“It’s just that Uncle Arthur has had to contend with a lot of women in the past. There was Aunty Caitlin and then Aunty Larissa and—”

“No. Ew. Stop.” The look of horror on my face would have served to stop any more curious forays into my love life, but Lilibeth persisted, although in a different vein.

“Oh, then is it because of Uncle Harold? You know, he’s been single for a very long time. And I did hear that—”

“We are not having this conversation,” I interrupted, cheeks flushed. I drained the rest of my glass and put it on the table.

“Did I say something to offend you? Your aura has changed to an angry orange, as if you’re annoyed. Oh, actually, there’s something else there too. Embarrassment?”

It was the tipping point. The exposure of my feelings wasn’t something I wanted some prepubescent child to announce to the whole world. “No shit, Sherlock.”

“My parents say that’s not a nice word.”

“Which one? No, shit or Sherlock?” I retorted without thinking.

Lily finally looked me in the eye. Her tiny face was like a porcelain mask but I could see her bottom lip quiver and the first signs of tears. “I’m sorry if I said something wrong. It wasn’t my intention to hurt or wound.”

Oh God, that look…

Some of my anger bled away at the look. So, taking a deep breath, I crouched down next to Lily so that we were at the same level. “Look, Lily, I know that you’re struggling to understand and control your super powers but I can tell you that asking someone if they’re annoyed when they are isn’t very conducive to the situation. When people are ‘emotionally charged,’ sometimes the best way is to take a step back and give them some space. Do you get what I’m saying?”

She scrunched up her face before finally nodding. “I think I do. And even though I can see that you’re not very happy with me at this moment, you’re also trying your very best to deal with me very civilly. My mum isn’t always like that. She usually just gets really mad and shouts at me. So, thank you for being patient with me. I’ll go join them over with the Rodrigues family for now.”

“You do that,” I said. “It’ll be much safer that way.”

Lily stared at me for a moment too long as she parsed my words, head cocked to one side. “You’re planning something. And it has something to do with Uncle Arthur and Aunty Melissa.”

It wasn’t a question but a statement of fact. How could such a young girl be so perceptive?

I opened my mouth, mind racing at a million miles per second as I racked it for a possible response. As the silence lengthened and no words came to my lips, I closed it. What would have been the point of further obfuscation? The girl could read bloody auras.

For all I knew, she might have already hazarded a guess at the truth. If only I had met her earlier, we might have been allies.

But, when it came do it, it didn’t change any of my immediate plans.

So, rather than confirm or deny her suspicions, I simply ushered Lilibeth back to her parents. Left with my thoughts, I grabbed another champagne flute from a passing waiter as the guests slowly found their tables and the party got under way.

The night proceeded without much incident. As for the speeches, they had little in terms of surprises. They were almost stale in how they followed the rote formula of every wedding speech ever. There were childhood stories, amusing anecdotes of Arthur’s life and of the budding love that had grown between him and Melissa.

As for Melissa’s family and friends, they spoke of the wonderful and caring soul that she was. At their words of praise, she had flushed prettily, burying her face in the crook of her now husband’s arm.

Were it not for the sporadic deliveries of entrée and main course, I would have found the whole entire pageantry a bore. That was, of course, until Harold took once more to the stage right before dessert, accompanied by Melissa’s maid of honour.

I’d seen Linda at the wedding. She was, apparently, one of Melissa’s best friends from high school. She had a pert upturned nose and blonde tresses that would have flowed down to about mid-back if she hadn’t pinned it up. Dressed in a lilac dress that was a little too tight around her waist, I eyed the woman as my brain registered that something was just a little off.

Was it me or was the grin on Harold’s face just a little too forced? And did Linda look a little more frazzled than when she had appeared at the wedding, boogeying down the aisle with the other bridesmaids?

“Now, this is where it all starts getting mushy, folks! We’ve had the ice breaker. We’ve had the shoe game. And we’ve had the inspiring speeches from family and friends alike. Now—”

Before Harold could finish, the doors to the ballroom crashed open. In stepped a woman dressed all in black, from her butterfly mask to the torn and tattered wedding dress. Affixed to her back were two great batlike wings, not unlike those that Arthur had taken off to sit down at the table.

Gasps sounded all around.

Arthur stiffened for a moment before he rose to his feet, cheeks suffused with red as he pointed one shaky finger in the woman’s direction.

“Get her out of here!” he all but roared.

Harold and two security guards jumped to obey the order.

But the woman, presumably Larissa, was too quick, dodging away when they tried to grab her. She quickly came down the stairs and ducked behind the other guests. Many were too stunned to try and stop her, exclaiming only in alarm when one of the security guards lunged forward and missed, nearly toppling an entire table over.

The farce went on for a few minutes until Arthur removed his suit jacket, ignoring Melissa’s plea to think rationally, and rolled up his sleeves. It seemed that he had learned the hard way that if you wanted to do something right, you had to do it yourself.

“Pathetic,” he said to Harold as he walked past.

A look flitted over Harold’s face. One that screamed anger and disbelief. He took one step forward before turning around to return to his chair, removing the bow tie around his neck and throwing it on the ground.

Seeing Arthur approach, the woman came to a stop right next to the towering five-layer wedding cake. There was a smirk on her face, though she was still breathing hard. She pushed back her hair, not as lanky as they were this morning.

“You’ve had your fun,” growled Arthur. “Leave before things get ugly.”

“I don’t think so,” retorted the woman, sounding exactly as she had at the ceremony. Larissa. It had to be. “I think I want to disrupt events a little further. Push my luck.” She reached out towards the cake.

“Don’t you dare!”

“And why shouldn’t I, Arthur? Why should I allow this to happen when it’s clear that you belong with me?”

“I’m not some trophy,” hissed Arthur. “Not an object that you can inscribe your name onto.”

The woman shook her head. Her hands gripped tight on the table that held the wedding cake. “No. No. No. She’s poisoned you against me. Do you even know who she really is?”

“She’s Melissa. The love of my life. The future mother to my children.”

“Wrong, wrong, wrong! She’s a fraud and a thief. And her name is Larissa. My sister.” With that declaration, the woman removed her black butterfly mask to unveil the face of one Caitlin Bai.

As one, the entire room gasped before lapsing into shocked silence. People exchanged looks with each other. But I couldn’t help but turn my attention to Melissa. She was still seated at the head table, her face as white as death and her eyes so huge and dilated that they could have swallowed the sun.

Arthur glanced back at his wife and then at Caitlin, dressed all in black. Doubt seemed to have caught him in its paralysing grip.

“See. You know I speak truth, Arthur. You’ve known it all along. I can see it on your face. We were together so long, Arthur, I can read you like a book.”

Until the whispers began and his face once more turned red.

“Enough! I will hear no more of these lies!” he roared and lunged forward, anger and hatred in his eyes. What he intended to do with Caitlin was anyone’s guess.

And just like that, chaos ensued as the wedding cake tittered on the table before smashing into the ground as Caitlin darted past Arthur’s grasping hands. Guests screamed. Many rose to their feet, ready to flee.

I was on my feet, unsure where to go. Did I help Caitlin? Or ought I leave this shambolic wedding reception and go back home. After all, this wasn’t my fight. Arthur and Harold and Melissa have to deal with the aftermath. And yet I also found myself bound to remain. The juicy drama before me was only just unfolding. I could already see the headlines.

But before I could make a decision on what to do next, Melissa rose to her feet. She was tapping feverishly at a champagne flute with the butter knife. The ringing sound of crystal cut through the noise.

Everyone stopped. Even Arthur. All heads turned towards Melissa, or Larissa if Caitlin’s claims were to be believed, as they waited for her to speak. Caitlin paused, mid-way up the stairs to the ballroom, a bemused look on her face. Clearly, she hadn’t expected Melissa to take a stand.

“I-I don’t know who you think you are but you are not welcome here!” stuttered Melissa, placing the knife and flute down on the table. “T-this was supposed to be m-my big day and you’ve ruined it. I would like it if you could l-leave.”

A smirk made its way to Caitlin’s lips. “Really? After everything you’ve done, you think you get to have a nice fairytale ending? Well, newsflash: you don’t, Larissa! Stop trying to play the innocent here!”

Melissa shook her head. “I don’t understand. I don’t know who this Larissa is. Though it’s clear you’ve been hurt by her. But I also don’t know who you are either.”

“Playing dumb won’t help you!” screamed Caitlin. Fire flashed in her eyes. “Just give it up! Tell the people the truth!”

“I’m sorry. You have the wrong person,” said Melissa, gaining strength from Caitlin’s display. After all, this was her wedding reception. She was in the right. Not Caitlin. “Now, please leave. Before we ask security to escort you out and call the cops.”

“No! I refuse. Why should I acquiesce when you were the one that masqueraded as me to break up with Arthur? You were always jealous of me, Larissa. Of what I had with Arthur. And I know that you took the money father gave me and used it to become whatever this is. So, I won’t leave. Not until I am vindicated!”

A hush descended over the room. No-one knew what to do or what to think. Instead, we all waited with bated breath for Melissa’s return volley as if this were a game of tennis.

Were it me, I would have already called the police. Or had called in hotel security, which was conspicuously absent except for the two muscleheads that were flanking Arthur.

Seconds passed. The tension so thick that one could cut it with a knife.

But before I knew what exactly was happening, the silence was broken first by a snort. And then Melissa was grabbing her stomach, doubled over with laughter.

A few nervous giggles broke out across the other guests.

For the first time all night, a look of doubt flashed across Caitlin’s face. I could see the thoughts in her head churning. Had she been wrong from the start? Maybe she really had made it all up in her head. After all, it all sounded like the plot of some daytime soap opera or k-drama.

Wiping away a tear of mirth from her eye, Melissa straightened. A cruel grin had replaced the lost confused look she bore before. She nodded towards Arthur. And he, like a loyal soldier, commanded the two burly security guards with him and his brother to secure the exits to the ballroom.

Caitlin looked around, fear finally creeping across her face as she realised the trap that had been set with us guests serving as the set dressing. I had to give it to Melissa. She knew how to keep her plans close to the vest.

My gaze wandered over to Norma and Myrtle huddled near the orchestra, darting to Lilibeth still seated primly at her table and cutting into the roast beef, before finally settling on Harold. There was a grim set to his jaw. One that told me he disapproved of the plan.

He always was a bleeding heart. It would hurt all the more to learn the truth as the reception reached its climax.

I didn’t want to do it but there was no going back now. No reversing the hands of time to when we were just innocents running around a garden like fools in love.

“Oh sister, your desperation is delicious,” said Melissa. “And oh, so predictable.”

“Fuck you, Larissa!”

“You know, it’s funny,” said Melissa. “Does it feel strange to keep saying your own name?”

Wait, what? Did that mean…

I looked from Caitlin to Melissa, trying to wrap my head around the implication behind Melissa’s words. If Caitlin was Larissa, then that meant…

A low murmur passed through the room as they, too, tried to process the revelation. From the corner of my eye, I saw Myrtle turn to Norma, mouth hanging wide open. But it was Harold’s reaction – my poor dear Harry – that revealed that even he had been blindsided. His face was as pale as a sheet of paper as he looked to his brother and then back to Melissa.

“Arthur, why didn’t—”

“Because I asked him not to,” replied Melissa as she turned to her brother-in-law. And though I knew in my head, this was supposed to be Caitlin, I couldn’t quite accept it. Not yet anyways. “It wouldn’t have changed things between us. After all, Larissa was always one to chart her own path. It wasn’t your fault. Isn’t that right, sister?”

“No! No! No! I’m Caitlin.”

“So, you don’t remember the fight four years ago? Or the drugging and the surgery you did?”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!”

Melissa took a step towards the woman that looked like Caitlin Bai. How the tables turned. Whereas before, Melissa had acted meek, it was now Caitlin, or Larissa, for that was her true name (I couldn’t keep up with all these reversals of who they really were), was the one that shied away from the blow.

“Larissa, you need to learn to let go,” said Melissa-Caitlin. “I have. Even though you left me with a wicked scar on the side of my face after the fight. Left me for dead in a back-alley in Thailand?”

Caitlin-Larissa tugged desperately at her long black hair. “This is a nightmare. A fucking nightmare. I was meant to be with Arthur, not you. You’re supposed to be dead! Dead! Dead!”

“But I’m not.”

“And I knew something was wrong the moment you tried to usurp Caitlin’s identity,” said Arthur, his eyes flashing dangerously. “That’s why I called it all off. Imagine my surprise, of course, when I came upon Melissa by chance when I was overseas.”

“I didn’t have my memories then,” said Melissa-Caitlin, her fingers finding Arthur’s, entwining together. “But the more time I spent with Arthur, the more I knew.”

“Lies. Lies. Lies,” chanted Caitlin-Larissa, shaking her head. “I’m Caitlin. You’re the impostor. Stop it, stop it, stop it!”

And then, Harold gently took hold of Caitlin-Larissa’s wrist. She looked up at him and suddenly it was as if all the fight deserted her. Caitlin-Larissa slumped into his hold, knowing that she had lost.

My heart went out for her. I knew the pain of unrequited love, had held it close to my chest for years, but to have gone this far? Even I don’t think I could have done something like that.

So, as the rest of the guests returned to their seats as Caitlin-Larissa was escorted out by the security guards and Melissa-Caitlin along with her husband, Arthur, returned to their seats, I reached for my phone. I scrolled through the contact list, to the number I had called earlier that day.

Caitlin-Larissa stopped, just before the threshold. Harold let her right hand go as she answered the call.

“Vicky,” I whispered, “thanks for doing this for me. I know it wasn’t easy. But now I know the truth.”

“You know I’d do anything for you. Are you sure you want to leave it like this?”

“It’s for the best.”

“So, how long do you think it’s going to take you to bail me out?”

“Judging from how this reception is going, I’d say two hours tops.”

“Looking forward to it, Cait.”

I ended the call and packed my phone away.

Despite everything, Larissa had done it. She had gotten away with it all. Her master plan had worked. But whereas anger might have consumed me four years back, I felt almost nothing now. Arthur and Larissa, or as Melissa as she was now known, deserved each other.

And I wished them all the happiness.

They were going to need it.

#short story #scorned #wedding #revenge-esque #m night shyamalan twist ending #trolling my readers #fictionpress #wattpad

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