Summer House

Chapter Sixteen

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Chapter Sixteen

"Your death," Tay muttered inaudibly.

"My death?" Arthit's eyes widened in confusion.

"Your death wasn't a suicide."

Before Arthit could speak, Tay cut him off again. "It was murder. You died of murder, not suicide."

The words barely escaped his lips as Arthit murmured, "M-murder?"

Tay barely looked at him when he replied, "Yes. It was murder."

Arthit shook his head in denial. "No. I can't. I would have remembered."

"But you don't. You choose only to remember what you want to remember."

Arthit continued to shake his in disbelief. "It happened in my own bathtub," he exclaimed, envisioning the scene over in his head. He saw that he was sinking lower and lower, deeper and deeper into the cold water that filled his tub. Everything became blurry in an instant and the darkness finally engulfed him in silence. "It was suicide."

"I know it's hard for you to accept, but I only wanted you to know the truth," he admitted. "I want you to know what happened."

Arthit's eyes were suddenly filled with tears and he felt himself falling, deeper into his own mind. A mind filled with harsh memories, which were all too painful to invoke.

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He saw himself standing in the doorway as he watched his sister get into her car and drive away, waving her final goodbye.

Shutting the door behind him, the smile quickly faded and his eyes became glossy. He fell to his knees and broke into an immediate sob.

Everything shifted into another place and time and he saw his sister being led into a brightly lit corridor of a gigantic house and finally came to a halt at the last door. The door was wide opened. Gathered at the center of the room, five middle-aged men stared at the young innocent girl with a sickening hunger in their eyes. Their father had been standing behind her trying to convince May to go inside. He was nervous and afraid, almost hesitant to allow his daughter to enter.

May took hold of a stranger woman's hand and looked over to her father. "Dad. Will you wait for me?"

Her father whose expression was barely readable, replied, "Dad, will be here. Dad, won't leave you. Don't worry pumpkin. They'll give you plenty of toys and dolls. Just do as they say."

Once May was inside, their father threw himself the floor and broke into a quiet sob, covering his mouth. "I'm sorry, May. I'm so sorry."

Arthit finally understood why May had taken his hand and refused to let go that rainy day. He finally understood why May seemed so unhappy with her gifts.

When time shifted once more, he found himself standing in May's room. May who was only thirteen at the time, was applying scarlet red lipstick to her lips in front of the full length mirror. She wore their mother's red dress that was two sizes larger than her fragile frame. She slipped her small feet into the red high-heeled shoes, and stood confidently in front of the mirror, puckering out her lips and lifting her long dark hair over her head like a seductive mistress. 

Arthit knew she would turn into a beautiful woman. She knew it too.

"Arthit. I'm much prettier than you are. That's what they all tell me. I'm so much beautiful. They like me. Not like you, they like me."

She placed one hand on her hip and bowed, before raising her eyes to stare at herself once more. She reached out with her fingers and touched the reflection. Tears seemed to naturally fall down her pale powdery cheeks as if she was performing in front of a live audience. She wiped her face and spoke softly to her reflection. "I hate you Arthit. I hate you for making me suffer. I hate you because you're still innocent. I hate you, Arthit. I really, really hate you."

In the blink of an eye, May's expression became distorted into shatter of glass. Fragments of glass fell like shiny flat crystals to the floor and then she released a piercing scream that only echoed her anger and pain.