Pretty Poison

Fifty - One

◈ Luca ◈

I fold my lip into my mouth, biting down on the skin till I taste the blood seeping onto my tongue. I hold a glass in my hand as I stare at the portrait in front of me, my mind twisted and mingled in ways it never has been before.

My eyes glide over every brush stroke, every change in color, every little detail in the faces of people I no longer recognize. I stare at her directly, her dress a beautiful blue that matches her eyes. As the years went on, her eyes slowly drained of happiness, until now, when I see no emotion residing in them. Her eyes are cold, dead, staring back at me with vacancy. But his eyes, Sergio's eyes stare at me with mischief, hatred, his painted grin saying "I've won".

My heart picks up speed, pounding as I glare at the portrait with utter anguish. Without thinking, without a second glance, I placed one foot forward and thrust the glass into the canvas. The glass shatters all over the floor, the red wine splattering all over the frame like blood dripping from an open wound. The red drips down her face, drenching her sapphire blue irises in a deep shade of crimson.

I run my sleeve under my nose as it begins to drip, tears glazing my eyes like pottery. I stare at the shattered pieces on the floor, every two seconds another drop of wine falling to the floor to create a puddle. It's the blood dripping from a cut of a broken family that will never be the same.

I reach a hand out to touch the soaking canvas, my fingers tracing my mother's face as if to remember every last piece of her. The wine leaves behind a stain, and I can't stand to stare at it any longer.

Pivoting on my heel, I turn away from the canvas, tears now falling from my eyes as steam rushes up my spine. I run both my hands through my hair harshly, then they fall to my sides limply.

The house is cold, empty, the warmth that once was here so long ago killed off with an unforgiving bullet. The living room remains vacant as I step down into the room. Light shines through the open glass in thin beams that penetrate through the clouds floating weightless above. I slowly move towards them, as if in a trance.

I stop, my nose inches away from the cold window, my eyes wandering aimlessly at the garden beyond. It once was full of light, once full of nothing but joy. I can still see her wandering up and down the rows of flower bushes, her petite fingers touching every flower as she walked along. I can still see her image stop at the foot of the sunflower meadow, her chin pointed to the sky as she took in the calming scent of fresh pollen and wet soil from a passing rainstorm. I can still see her ghost wandering everywhere, sometimes her sapphire eyes meet mine in the distance as I stare out there. But eventually, everything just disappears, dissolves into the gloom that it has been for so long. Her light left with her as she was taken from the world, and I will never forget the beauty she brought to it before she left.

I thought that I had found that beauty again, that my mother had sent me a happiness I never would have found again if it hadn't been for Beatrice. But now I don't know what to believe. I used to pray to god above for someone like my mother, someone who brought nothing but pure joy and kindness to all who were deserving of such bliss. I guess that kind of thing only exists in angels.

I turn from the garden and the overgrown weeds that have fallen into disarray. Instead I take a seat at the bar, grabbing the bottle of red wine that was left where I put it. I down the liquid, the cold consistency traveling to my stomach, leaving behind a path of frost. I wipe at my mouth with my sleeve, stumbling ever-so-slightly over to a couch ten steps away from me.

My head begins to pound, as if a jackhammer was cracking into my skull without mercy. I feel my world start to spin as I stare up at the ceiling, black dots overcoming my line of vision until finally nothing is left but her face in the darkness, Beatrice's face.