Fabian's Wisp

Day of Departure

            Her feet felt heavy as she walked down the familiar hallway for the last time. Everything was in its place, the pictures of her family, hanging perfectly straight on their places on the wall, the long dead roses sitting upright in their vase, the flaking white paint. She knew these things like the back of her hand. She had seen them many times each day of her life, for 23 years. She paused briefly, at the round window above the stairs. The sun peeked out from behind a cloud, reflecting on the bright snow. The empty fields were almost blindingly white. Snowflakes drifted down from the sky, aimless and carefree.

It was a beautiful morning, a beautiful morning for her funeral.

Turning her head away from the window, she walked-a slow, mournful walk. She reached the end of the hallway, turning down the old wooden stairs. Running her hand down the smooth banister, she felt her eyes water. She'd never come up these stairs again. She knew this would be the last time she heard the familiar sound of her father making breakfast in the kitchen, or of the cars driving down the street. The last time she would eat in a peaceful place. It seemed like a normal day, yet the house was still and mournful. As she walked down the last step, she hesitated momentarily, her foot hanging in the air. She took a deep breath, and then placed her bare foot onto the hard wood of the ground floor.

Her family would be waiting for her in the kitchen. They would offer her food, but she wouldn't be able to eat. Her stomach felt like a twisted knot in her body. She didn't know if she could face them today. Would it really be too late for her to run away?
No, she thought, as she turned to the left, towards the sounds of her family's quiet whispers. What were they talking about? Were they wishing she would escape, run away, never enter the kitchen doors? It wouldn't be that easy. She couldn't run away, it would only be selfish. If she ran away, they would punish her family. Punished in an unimaginable way. Letting her go was the only way. If she could last for long enough, her sister would never have to face what she would.

As she continued towards the kitchen, she wondered what she would be thinking today if she didn't know she was going to die. All over the world there were people not knowing they were going to die soon, perhaps they would die today. Was her situation better than theirs, knowing she was going to die? Or would it be better if she had gone about her life normally until one day she got in a fateful accident, or passed away quietly in her sleep.

She reached the kitchen door, it was closed, it never was closed. It had only been closed one other day she could remember, a day quite like today. She remembered it vividly, every movement she had taken, every tear she had cried. The difference then was that she had been on the other side of the door that day.

Why must it happen to her family? She thought, as she clenched the doorknob, her fingers tightening on the cold metal. Her knuckles began to turn white. Her family's whispers had quieted.

She closed her eyes, relaxing her grip, her hand dropping to her side. If she could succeed in her plan, maybe she would be the last one. If she could somehow end the cycle, perhaps nobody else would have to be sacrificed. 

She sighed, it was a useless thought. How could she fix anything? How could she understand what was going on in there, when it was all some big secret? She needed to embrace her fate, today was her funeral. There was no point in running away. It was her fate, nobody could escape fate. 

As she stood in the dimly lit room, light spilling in from the round window above, she took a deep breath. She reached for the doorknob, and twisted it with caution, reluctantly welcoming her fate.

She didn't look back as she stepped into the kitchen. Leaving the cheap rays of sunlight reaching out, mournful in their own false sense of comfort.