𝓝𝓸𝓿𝓪

➪ 𝒪𝓅ℯ𝓃𝒾𝓃ℊ

BROWN HOUSE, ATLANTA, GEORGIA |FEBRUARY 24TH, 2036

Carlotta Brown enters the reception area of her former salon and home. A torn down with the overwhelming smell of wet wood, garbage left for a decade, expired hair products and foods, and rundown furniture seeping into her nose. She pinches her nose, heading up the weak and broken stairs. Creaking sounds escape from the floorboards as her feet press down on each step. Until she reaches the second floor, a shell of what it used to be.

The hallway lit by the natural light coming through the window at the end and a small light on the white ceiling. A broken window lets in the snow from winter. Vulgar messages were inscribed on the walls by the trespassing homeless people and items from the homeless who settled in the home were scattered everywhere.

Carlotta limped over to her former room, to see if the king-sized bed she bought at a pawn show in '95 was still covered by her favorite turquoise duvet. If the yellow curtains she installed were still shutting out the sunlight. But all she saw was a filthy bed, surrounded by waste and the yellow curtains flying up in the air whilst clutching onto the bar.
Entering the room, her first thought is to go to the cupboard to get her journals, documents, scrapbooks, etc. The intention was to hide as many secrets as she could before the public got a hold of them and exploited them or rather exposed her for who she is. And soon, who she was. Her big hands swing open the cupboard doors, nearly hitting her face.
Frantically, she scratches for the documents in the box, but it's empty. To make sure her fears were not confirmed, she rumages through every box. Searching through them one by one, with no hope. The police swore up-and-down that the trespassers were excused days after they entered the property and never had any possessions.

But they lied like she always had. When there was no hope left, she accepted that she once again failed everyone and that she could fail in life. Scrambling on the floor, swiping the boxes to the walls, and wailing out to the top of her lungs. Wanking on her thin. Banging on the floor asking God why she was the constant target of misfortune.

Carlotta tried to struggle up, but she collapsed out of exhaustion. Landing on her side. A pain traveled through her body, particularly her chest. Her breathing was shortening as her heart raced at a rapid pace. The world was blurring before her eyes. And darkened soon afterward. A few tears streamed out of her eyes and down the side of her face. Every memory of 64 years on Earth swept through her mind. The faces of those she loved and failed flashed one-by-one.
Including the memory of a crying little blonde girl who crumbles down to get in the grave of her mother to join her in whatever place she is. The rain-free falls hitting everything beneath. Mixing in with the tears of the attendees. Two toddlers play in the puddles, hopping in and out. Oblivious to their surroundings, only knowing they were having harmless fun.

She looks at them with envy and pity. So innocent yet they have been through so much at their young age. They draw out their names and the few words, understanding the meaning behind them. They are platonic soulmates, just like she and Mary were. She can only look at them. She cannot bear to look down. To see the loved one she failed.

Carlotta lays on the floor with tears streaming from her face as she draws her finally breathe. The fight was over.