Seeing Death

01

L I E S

Before my mother drove out to her doom, she had looked me dead in the eye, saying things I wished she hadn't.

"No one bloody cares about what you have to say, Maeve. I don't care!" She huffed. "If what you have to tell me has to do with that fucking curse, then keep it to yourself."

I had lied that night out of fear. I stared back at her eyes just as fiercely as she did mine when I lied. "It's nothing. You can go to work, mum."

If I hadn't lied, she could have lived. I could have saved her. She died that night and I died with her.

Lying is an art in its entirety, whether it was so. Lying is something I've grown with. Something that has gotten ingrained in me as time went by. Saying the truth required trust, trust I wasn't ready to give because it all started the same way.

Truth - trust - backfires.

People were backstabbing sneaks. More than once has taught me to keep my mouth sealed or to do something easier: lie. Not like I have to. No one bothers asking questions, and it's easier that way. It's best to avoid the child with the blood of people dripping down her canines.

My mother had lied too. She lied she didn't care about what I had to say, but there was fear in her eyes. Fear I had seen in mine each time I woke up from a nightmare. I realised that day that my mother didn't want me to tell her. She knew, but she didn't want to know. She knew she was driving to her death.

She was ignorant because she believed it was bliss.

I turned my crusty eyes away from the sun and wiped my face. The last thing I wanted was to leave home and witness it again. Witness another person die or watch someone jerk away from me. I had eaten cereal after my bath and I was certain it was all I'd probably eat all day. Knowing too much about how someone bites the dust each day could do that to you.

It was doomsday. Today, school resumes and I'll have to repeat the process all over. Glaring at new students who think I'm the sanest person to have a conversation with. Keeping my head down during classes to avoid getting called by the teacher. The new ones make that mistake. The old ones know not to.

It was a small town, after all. People feed on news, popular gossip and rumours. They feed on it till it’s nothing but ash.

Knowing wasting more time wasn't helping me at all, I shrugged my backpack on and walked to the door. I hadn't seen my dad in weeks, and I wasn't bothered. He was definitely alive, breathing and loathing me somewhere in his mind.

Tapping the door twice for good luck, I stepped out of the house. The weather in Melleys was what you'd call stable. It never rained much, so the farms where food was gotten were on the outskirts. It's constantly sunny and warm.

I watched children wave at their parents and hurry into their buses as I walked. It was hard to keep my mind focused on one thing when everything seemed to grab my attention.

Melleys is the town many people visit for their vacations because it's serene. The view of the lake at Paramount was breathtaking. The death rate was completely nonexistent. Or so they made it seem.

I knew it existed. I knew people died daily. Maybe not someone on my street, but someone somewhere.

The birth rate was far too high, and it was a wonder how the town wasn't overpopulated. The old folks hadn't died, though. They were still breathing and passing snide remarks about me.