Pretty Poison

Sixteen

My steps are featherlike, as they always are, but it sounds as if an elephant is parading in the foyer.

I step into the house further, closing the door behind me with ease. The lock quietly falls into place as I release the knob. I pivoted on my heel and I'm instantly brought back in time to a life I had tried so hard to forget. Years and years of loneliness return to me like a tsunami wave. Years and years of silence come rushing back to me. I struggle to push back tears, holding back a sob by pinching my nose shut.

My eyes glide up the foyer tower, the crystal chandelier casting a shadow on the wall where rainbow fractals appear in the morning. The floors are clean as ever, my reflection replicated in the smooth polish. I slowly lean against the wall to take off my shoes, scared to dirty the floors or make too much noise. I exhale a breath, trying to relax my trembling body as I walk away from the door and down the hall to the living room.

I come into the room, and am brought back to the countless parties that were held in this room. Images of men with their hands up dresses and women kissing other women flooding my brain. I'm reminded instantly of the countless trays that were brought around with lines of white powder, in which I learned later was crack cocaine. I learned of its effects and why the people here acted the way they do when sniffing it. I read about it profusely in one of the many books that I taught myself to read from.

It made me realize all the things that were hidden from me, all the things that I didn't understand as a fifteen year old, like why half naked women danced on poles and why people engaged in such intimate activities with more than one person. I never understood such things like taking drugs, but that was because I misunderstood the human element of pleasure, for pleasure is the reason people indulge in such sexual acts and bad habits.

I walk into the empty living room further, the furniture the same as it had been four years ago. The decor was abstract, each piece a brilliant gold that lit up the room even when no light illuminated it. Everything else was white, the walls, the floor, but the furniture was a jet-black. The rugs that covered portions of the floor were fluffy and clean, as if no one had ever stepped foot on them before. Gold lamps stood beside the couches, and a single chandelier hangs from the elevated trey ceiling.

I quietly walked to the wide window panes that lined the room entirely from one end to the other, admiring the brilliant blue hue of the chlorinated water in the pool. Few white chairs are set up around it, the rest of the yard covered in perfectly cut grass. Behind the pool stands the gardens I always found myself staring at from my favorite room. I longed to go outside and walk the grounds freely, but knew that wasn't a good idea. I walk the length of the room instead, never taking my gaze off of the plants and natural beauty outside.

I stop for a moment, something catching my eye. My eyebrows furrow as confusion takes over me. My shed, or where it used to be, is completely covered by bushes, the small structure that once resided there completely gone as if it were never there. Nights spent there were cold and dreadful, and I never understood why I was kept there. I couldn't help but wonder if Sergio knew. I couldn't help but wonder if he knew of what would happen if someone were to touch me, but how would he know if he himself never has laid a hand on me? How did he find out?

I would give anything to ask, to understand why this happened, why I was different, but I don't know if anyone could even answer that. There are so many unexplained phenomena in this world, and I count myself as one; it is a blessing and a curse.

I turn from the window, my feet quietly carrying my body farther into the room. Something captures my attention from the corner of my eye, a glinting frame. I turn and walk towards it, taking in the familiar picture in front of me. I stand inches from it, taking in every detail of the family portrait that has been burned in my memory.

Sergio stands in the back, his tuxedo pressed to perfection and his right hand resting on his wife's shoulder. Her dress appears even more blue in the dark, and her eyes seem brighter. I search them, taking in every detail. They feel cold, empty, emotionless. Her smile seems forced, and the painter captured that perfectly. Her dress hangs off her shoulder, the silk flowing down her arm perfectly. Two skinny straps wrap around her blades, holding up an intricately designed corset to the dress, embroidered with thin feathers and lines of silver. The rest of the dress is hidden by the figures of two boys, but I imagine the rest to be just as beautiful. The woman's hair fell freely behind her shoulders, few strands falling in front to frame her perfectly sculpted face. Her hair is the same beautiful shade as her son's, and I can't help but look at him next.

His indigo eyes compliment his mothers, for they match in utter unity. His young baby face smiles lightly, his brunette almost black hair perfectly groomed. Young Luca was just as attractive as the sixteen year old version I knew so long ago. His brother, Vincenzo stands beside him in equal attractiveness, but with different features. For one, Vincenzo had dirty blonde hair that matched his father's. He also obtained his father's breathtaking green irises that never failed to intimidate. He was a year older than Luca and I never saw much of him ever.

I turn away from the portrait, feeling as if their painted eyes follow my every step. I stride back to the living room, jaunting across back to the foyer, more and more memories coming back to me as if they have been locked up in a safe. The house is hauntingly quiet, the thought that it is in fact abandoned is clear in my mind. Slowly, I creep up the marble steps to the second floor, coming to a dark hallway that I always cleaned. I walk gently, running my fingers lightly on the textured stone walls. In moments, I come to the end of the hall where a single door stands. I recognize this door immediately, for it is the last one I entered through before leaving this mischievous place. Suddenly, I remember that I never took the key out of my bag, and I reach into a pocket and take it out.

I hold my breath, carefully inserting the key into the lock, twisting softly. The hinges squeak lightly as the door opens inward revealing the room to me.

The window has been fixed, but the opened boxes on the floor have not been touched or moved, a thick layer of dust covering each box and the floor. I lean down to the box holding the jade jewelry, the imprint of where the necklace used to be still visible, and my throat instantly runs dry out of guilt. I instantly stand and turn away from it, striding to the window to peer outside.

"Who the fuck are you?" The sound of a gun being loaded echoes throughout the room. At that moment, I nearly jumped out of it again to the sound of the piercing voice.

I hear the man step into the room further, closer to me and where I stand petrified.

"I said, who the fuck are you?" He reiterates, his voice growing more abrasive and terrifying.

I immediately place my hands up where the man can see them, my heart two seconds from jumping out the window. I feel the pulse in my neck as I struggle to breathe. I shake in utter fear in place, unable to move. The man steps even closer from behind me.

"Answer me!" He shouts, and at that moment I find my ability to turn around again, and that's when I meet the cold dead stare of his perfect indigo irises.