Beautiful, Beloved

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞

┈ ┈༺♡༻ ┈ ┈𝘊𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘦┈ ┈༺♡༻ ┈ ┈ 

"You coming?" the son asked. I tore my eyes away and followed him.

My steps were careful and quaky, as I followed the son to an alleyway.

"You look really pretty," he told me, admiring my body. I stood there with a blank expression, not sure what to say.

"Er, thanks," I decided. He stepped closer and I stood still like a complete idiot. His lips found mine, and I gasped.

His mouth was dry, and tasted like cottage cheese. The sores on his lips poked into mine and I could see into his upturned nose as it brushed against mine.

"Stop, stop." I pushed him back. The kid nearly tumbled over, and looked at me.

"I'm sorry if I led you on," I explained. "I don't like you that way." His eyes started watering and he turned his back on me. He extended his arms, and ran. I felt like shit.

Instead of chasing after him like a normal person, my dumbass self went to find the husband and wife. They were in the car, loading furniture and knick knacks into the trunk of the car.

"Where's Nathaniel?" the wife asked me. My mind clicked immediately, his name was Nathaniel.

"We got separated in the crowd," I mentioned, saying the first thing that came to mind. I had the strangest feeling that I was being watched, and soon enough, Nathaniel came back to the car. He avoided my eyes, and didn't say a word the entire car ride home.

"It's late," the wife said, changing into pajamas. They all went to their beds like any normal night, and I slept on the couch.

Morning came along and the sun looked beautiful. I felt a grin come across my face, and I stepped out of bed. I scurried outside to get the newspaper, and read the giant headline.

"Hurricane coming," I read to myself. I shrugged and tossed it onto the sofa for the husband to read during breakfast. That's when I heard a noise I'd never heard before.

It was bloodcurdling, and shrilling. The noise sounded like a cross between a dog whistle and a crying baby, and it pierced both of my ears. It was coming from the bathroom.

I slammed open the door to the bedroom, and called, "is everything okay in there?" I couldn't just burst into one of them in the bathroom, it would be mortifying.

Loud sobs from a man and woman came, and I gathered my bravery. I picked up my medical bag just in case, and held my eyes shut.

The doorknob was cold and shiny, as I twisted it to the right. I stepped into the bathroom and smelled something utterly nauseating. I had only smelled that smell once before in my life, and I opened one eye to check on my theory.

I dropped my medical bag in horror. I was right.

Sweet, innocent Nathaniel sat sprawled across the tub. His right arm was over the edge and his left arm was on his heart. There was shampoo in his hair, and the water under him was a dark red. He had a knife through his chest.

"Do something!" the husband shrieked at me. "Walter, there's nothing she can do," Emmeline sobbed. I was frozen in fear as I managed to sputter out the words on my mind.

"How did he-" I started, as I noticed a note on the sink. A note on the same paper as the one I saw the first day. It was a suicide note, and suddenly I felt a pain in my chest. He killed himself, because of me.

I bit down on my lip, and my eyes fluttered shut. Next thing I knew, I was on the bed.

"Aren't you supposed to be a fucking doctor?!" the husband, I guessed named Walter demanded. Emmeline shook in fear.

"What kind of doctor passes out like that?!" he screamed into my ear. I felt hot tears of guilt running down my cheeks.

"Walter, calm down" Emmeline whispered through tears.

"I will not calm down!" he yelled. "My son is dead because of this- this- thing who calls herself a doctor!"

'"I'm sorry," I tried to tell him and myself.

"This is why doctors should be men." Walter huffed. I could tell Emmeline wanted to say something, but she didn't.

The cabin was tense later that day when we all went to sleep. Cold. Alone. Horrified.