Never Forgotten.

April 17, 2017
By s.kayy BRONZE, London, Other
s.kayy BRONZE, London, Other
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

Days with no food, nights with no rest, an abominable memory that doesn’t part my mind. The sounds of her voice and the attributes of her face remain preserved in my memory. An endless nightmare that I’m trapped in an aphotic room imprisoned between four walls, so tight they suffocate me. The sounds of footsteps break the silence; I hold my breath for a good minute trying to divert my focus on the noise that seemed to be gradually growing with every step, sending shudders down my spine. The unknown creature behind closed doors stopped dead. Oblivious of the next move I should take I found self automatically scurrying to the corner of my wooden bed crouching into a small ball, bloodshot eyes fixed on the creaking twist emerging from the door knob.

I wake up, jolting out of bed still paranoid of my dream as I breathe rapidly wiping the sweat off of my face. “It’s only a dream, none of this is real,” I whisper to myself as I remain shivering in fright. My mother runs in, worry invading her face. “What happened?” She rushes towards me “Another nightmare right?” I quickly answer before she says what I wish she hadn't. “Mum, I'm ok, I don't need help.” She pauses, stands up bitterly and speaks again now with a frown across her face “Ever since your sister died you have changed. It is tough for me to Mary but I won’t be a part of this anymore. That's it I'm calling a doctor!"

I glance down at my laps in despair as tears trickle down onto the silvery bed sheets bellow me. My mother looks at me, eyes tearing up too. She stoops down, dries my tears and places a hand on my cheek “I’m sorry. You’re just not the same as you were before, but I don't want you to worry. It will be ok… I promise.” She breathed with an unsteady tone.

Ding Dong, the sound of the doorbell echoes around the empty house, bouncing from room to room. “Now who can that be at this time of day?” Mother lightly pecked my cheek before hurrying down to welcome none other than Dr Maria. She walks in taking large steps; her body so bony she could collapse at any moment. Her greasy brown hair just about covers those pointy elf ears and brushes the tips of her arched shoulders. She glanced around like a predator searching for its prey so vicious and hungry. Then those black empty holes caught up with mine. Slowly, she pulls a weird face moving her wrinkly lips to reveal these horrendous, decayed, yellow and revolting things that you may say were teeth; from where I was standing they looked like ancient tombstones ready to take me to my death. As usual, we are in the kitchen and my mother is explaining how I’m going insane due to the tragic incident on November 4th, an unforgettable night that has haunted me ever since. The day my little sister Lucy died. But I’m not insane! No one believes me. There’s absolutely nothing wrong and I need no psychological help. Slightly, seems like I don’t even believe myself anymore. After an hour of therapy and constant lectures about social clubs and other stupid ways to ‘help,’ me she finally reaches out her twigged fingers grabs her bag and stands up ready to leave.

The house is back to how it always is, quiet and still, neither a movement nor a sound just a space of eerie nothingness. I mope up the stairs, dropping my feet effortlessly then dragging them across the ground whilst my drooped head sways side to side. Walking into my room, I sigh making a loud groaning noise then drop face down onto my bed, wishing the ground would open and engulf me. Usually, I wonder disinterested around the room, unwillingly reading the same book I had once read with my long gone sister forcing myself to occupy this wasted time. However, now feels different; the memory of my sister haunts me. I find my mind wandering towards her every few cursed seconds. I can’t help but see her every time I blink. As soon as my eyelids touch one another, an image of her flickers in my mind and no matter how much I attempt desperately to eliminate these devilish images, they seem to reappear like a reprehensible sin tormenting my vulnerable soul. Still, as I open my eyes this vile bitterness does not fade but is engraved into my memory, carved into my unholy vision unable to be purified or forgiven. My mouth dries and my throat tightens; I feel the tears of heartache welling up in my eyes, impatiently waiting until I burst into an emotional breakdown. Gradually, this worthless corps of mine tenses up and immediately shut my eyes clenching onto the edge of the bed gripping it so vigorously that it marked the palms of my hands in blue. I place one hand over my mouth, scared that somebody would hear my hopeless cries and one onto my chest, over my fractured heart attempting to prevent the pain and agony from seeping out. Lucy was all that I ever had. Everything I ever wanted. She gave me life and now that she is dead she took that spark of happiness in me with her. So much emotion has mounted up inside me, difficulties on top of the other but I bury them away, afraid that the people I call friends may laugh. They don’t understand how much she meant to me, they will never know how it tastes to lose something they love until it’s gone. Countless times when I’m burning up inside, I put on a smile saying I’m ok when really my heart is torn into tiny fragments.

The sky is pitch black with a thick darkness not a single star in it. Still crying nonstop, I attempt to wipe my red swollen eyes and nose with the back end of my sleeve; breathing in and convincing myself ‘all will be ok’ when deep inside I know there is no escape. I walk towards the mirror my eyes meeting each other, ashamed of the state I’m in. Gently, I rest my forehead onto the centre of the glass: my warm breath fogging it up forming a blur. Clasping my hand together I create a firm fist, fingers tightly wrapped around each other. All the rage, the distress and the misery pile up inside of me as my body swells with fury until I can’t bear looking at the wreck I've made of myself. With all of my might, I swing my fist straight at the mirror shattering the glass as they scatter all around of me. Little by little, my body began to loosen up. Just at that moment, I feel a burning sensation bolt up into my arm giving me a sudden shudder. Due to the abrupt shot of adrenaline that had rushed through my body paralysing my nervous system, I had failed to notice the pain of my hand puncturing through the mirror. Slumping my shoulders, I glance down to the ground only to realise I have slashed my knuckles, blood flowing from the deep cuts in my flesh, dripping down onto the carpet beneath me. Through the only surviving shard of glass, I lay my eyes on another face staring at me Slashed and scarred! Gashes so deep into its bloodstained face, I could see the rotting flesh inside. Stitches across its bruised blue and green left eye and blood gushing out of its busted lip! Clothes wrecked and torn into bits, hair ripped off leaving bloody patches behind. Gasping, I jump up as my heart skips a beat my blood turning ice cold! I let out an ear piercing scream and scamper to the door desperately trying to open it. Banging on the large piece of wood blocking me, I pull the handle with all my strength helplessly slamming my aching body on it but it won’t open. “Help ... Please, Help!” I plead as my head starts spinning and everything around me blurs. I start to see things; hear my sister’s voice calling me “Come to me Mary, join me” my heart beats faster every second...
There she is. My sister Lucy standing there smeared in blood. “I miss you, Mary,” she whispers slowly in an eerie voice as she tilts her head, still staring right into my eyes. “No, No you’re not real!” I cry out struggling to convince myself. “Leave me alone!” Screaming like mad, I drop to the ground and force my head into my hands wishing this will all be over.

One week later I was laying in bed thinking about that emotional day. Seeing my dead sister come to haunt me not only frightened me but the fact that the door wasn’t really locked and no-one was actually there, terrifies me. Am I going crazy?

The next day comes quickly, and I greet it by cleaning my room and sorting out all the books, papers and boxes scattered under my bed. Looking through the mess, my eye caught a glimpse of something shiny hidden in a cardboard box marked ‘Don’t open’ in red. I glance back at the papers in my hand but I can’t stop thinking about that box, hence to prevent the temptation I shove it back under my bed; still curious to find out what’s inside. My mind ran wild, all the thoughts of what might be in their buzz in my head. I couldn’t help but open it. Reaching out under my bed, I drag the box out and quickly yank it apart only to discover an old dusty album alone in this strange box. Anxiously, I pick it up and gently blow off the dust to reveal little glittery stickers and tiny diamonds stuck all over the album. With the tips of my fingers, I carefully turn the pages exposing childhood photographs of me and my sister; a surge of memories hit me as I sunk deep into my imagination still turning the pages whilst dreaming about those days. Tears stream down my cheeks as I lay eyes on the smiles on our faces. I cannot bear all these memories. My heart raced like time when you’re having fun thudding against my ribcage, pounding out a jagged rhythm. Instantly shutting the album, I drop it onto the floor and take a heavy breath. Shaking, I squeeze my eyes shut and make every effort to forget.
After several hours, I lay flat in bed fascinated by the sight of the moon rising. Within a blink of an eye, I was captured back into reality. Just then, images of my sister flicker in my mind. I'm unable to lose sight of those large smiles or those innocent eyes. I felt a nudge in my heart the pang of regret and sorrow murders me. All of a sudden, my heart drops. I can’t breathe. Bursting out crying, I scream "Why? Why is this happening to me? I will be happier when I’m with her." Without thinking, I get out of bed taking my last steps. Hastily, I clutch a knife and look fixedly at myself in the mirror scared of the pain but relieved that I can emerge from this hell that I’m living in. Pulling the knife closer towards my throat, I whisper “I’m coming, Lucy!” As tears gush out of my red swollen eyes, I hold up my head and pull the knife across my neck as the blade slices through my flesh and veins I’m no longer capable of keeping myself up. I collapse to the ground and close my eyes ''Goodbye"...

The author's comments:

This is a piece I created as a school project but carried on working on it for a year because I really liked the idea of the story. I just began changing bits and pieces and adding different parts of the story until I felt it was complete. I wanted a story like this because it is so unexpected and I wanted it to shock my audience and live in their memory because a good story is one that leaves the reader stunned.

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