✓ 𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐝𝐞 𝐥𝐮𝐧𝐞

8 | flies

tw

I stare in disbelief and confusion, my feet frozen. There was a singular lamp in the corner that lit the room up briefly. Then in the middle, a baby's crib.

I was scared to approach in fear that I would wake up whatever was in there. Why wasn't the door locked if there was any type of baby in here? And why when the gun went off, it didn't cry?

I step closer and closer until I was looking over into the crib.

I immediately felt nauseous, and I wanted to throw up. I wished I hadn't even come down here, I wished I had stayed in the living room and minded my own business, I wished I could have not been nosy.

Its skin was blue and its eyes were closed, it wore a blue onesie with matching socks and gloves. It had dark black hair and a small button nose and fat cheeks. It was about 3 months old.

But it wasn't a baby that cried when it was hungry, it wasn't a baby that played with toys and rolled over, it wasn't a baby that was ever going to learn how to crawl or walk or speak.

This baby was dead.

I then, without thinking, reach out at it, touching at the skin on his face. It was cold and hard, and his cheek had a texture almost like silicone. This was a baby who died fairly recently, possibly in the last few months.

Yet, he didn't have any incisions or blood on him, so how did he even die in the first place?

The room had nothing else in it besides the crib. Noah wasn't even planning on having a baby in the first place then.

In a way I felt bad for it. He must have died in his sleep. I wonder if he was ever taken out of his room, or played with, fed even. My biggest question, why was he in a room that was guarded by a door made for walk-in fridges?

It wasn't cold in the room at all, it was warm even, and if this baby wasn't disposed of soon, the basement would soon become mustier and more smelly than it already is. It was all a waiting game until the skin started to rot and the flies got into the room and laid eggs in his nostrils and mouth. Soon, maggots would be eating through his body down to the bone and there would be nothing left but his baby blue onesie and skeleton.

-

"Come in for dinner!"

Sao and I rise from the couch then walk into the dining room.

"I'd like to have a talk with both of you. None of you are in trouble."

I wanted to have a talk with him too.

We take our seats, waiting for him to speak.

"You guys know I cherish you right? You're my family I never had. But I need you guys to get along, or this family won't be the happy family I wished for."

"Why can't we just go back to us two?" Sao asks.

Noah sighs, "Sao you know why. I've spoken to you about this multiple times. I don't understand why you want it to be just us? Now you get company."

He looks at me, "I don't like this company."

"There's no reason to be rude, Sao. We need to get along, not make each other feel like we aren't wanted. You know this."

He crosses his arms and leans back in her chair, pouting.

"And you Larissa, don't feel like you aren't wanted here. You are, and I thank you for staying. I wouldn't be the man I am today without you guys."

He smiles at us, then places both his hands on the table for us to grab. I place my hand in his, feeling at his fingers wrap around mine.

"Thank you."

I blanked out that entire speech.

"Noah," I say quietly, almost a whisper.

He nods.

"Why is there a dead baby in the basement?"

His smile fades, and he takes his hand back. He hesitates, and this is probably the first time I've ever seen him nervous, "He was ill."

"He's dead. Has been for a while. Why is he still there?"

His eyes go soft, and his demeanor was fragile and awkward, "I don't know."

"You don't know?"

He dips his head like he was ashamed of himself.

"It's a dead fucking baby! In your basement! What do you- how does that even happen?"

His hands fly up to his face, covering his eyes with his palms.

"Are you crying? Stop fucking crying."

"I couldn't let go! I wanted to stay with him forever!"

I scoff, "You're pathetic," I spit before standing up and walking off. I was absolutely disgusted in every way.

How could a grown man be so irresponsible and gross? It was beyond me.

I couldn't even sleep in the basement anymore without thinking about what was in the next room. Did Sao know? Did he just allow that to happen?

I was enraged, disgusted, and sad all at once. He was messed up in more ways than one. He needs help, professional. He wasn't just some guy who killed people for fun, there was meaning to the people he killed, reason for each one of them.

All of them meant something to him, and each of them reminded him of something whether that be good or bad. He wasn't a good guy, and he knew that too. He knew what he was doing wrong, but he couldn't stop it.

This had to be caused from a certain trauma, some brain damage that I couldn't put a finger on. This wasn't normal behavior and it certainly wasn't normal for him to switch from cruel to innocent like that.

-

The mattress was still stained with blood, but I grabbed an extra blanket and slept on the floor anyways.

It was hard falling asleep, even harder when Noah came into the room.

"Larissa."

I hum.

"Come to the couch with me. I don't want you sleeping on the floor."

"You let Sao sleep on the floor."

He sighs, then walks over to me, kneeling down. He reaches out his hand, running his pointer finger over the side of my cheek.

"Why do you do this?"

"Do what?" He whispers, running his fingers over my lips.

"Do this," I say, "You act all bad and mean then all of the sudden you're nice and sweet."

He doesn't say a word, instead, he sits down all the way.

"Do you love me?" he asks.

I freeze up at the words.

But it came naturally. Too naturally.

"Yes."