Love Bites

Chapter III

The drive home was silent, the kind where words have run dry and nothing remains but grief. The humming car engine was the only sound apart from our quiet breaths. Every once and a while I could feel Sadie's gaze turn to me, but I wasn't looking at her. My eyes were locked on the road, darting between the fleeting trees and passersby, as if he might materialize from the crowd. Not that I would have able to point him out, I didn't even know what he looked like. It was so dark that night I couldn't see well, but my mind still spun trying to piece together frayed memories.

I knew one thing though; I had seen his eyes. I was sure of it. If I closed my own tightly, I could still feel the coldness of his breath as he loomed over me. I just needed to remember, but that was easier said than done. The few details I could recall came in scattered flashes, and I was afraid they'd eventually dim and disappear too.

My heart faltered as we turned off the main road. The familiar outline of our street brought me no comfort though. Each house we passed, with its warm lights and signs of life, was a stark contrast to the emptiness that awaited me at home. These sights, once so ordinary, now seemed distant, like they part of another life I could no longer reach. Sadie slowed as we approached our house, emerging before us like a question I wasn't ready to answer. It stood unchanged, seemingly undisturbed by the events of the last few days.

I swallowed the lump in my throat as we pulled into the driveway, the gravel crunching harshly beneath the tires. She shut off the engine, plunging us into an even deeper quiet. We sat like that for a moment, gathering our courage. I stared at the house and it seemed to stare back at me, darkened windows reflecting the dying light of the sky. My grip tightened around the keys in my hand, I let the teeth dig into my palm, the pain providing a twisted reprieve.

Stepping out of the car, I felt a chill run through me. Not from the evening air, but the realization that walking through that door would mark the beginning of a new reality-one without Dad. I treaded forward, feet uncertain on the path I'd walked a thousand times before, each stone now a reminder of a time now irretrievably lost.

As we reached the entrance, I couldn't help but hold my breath. My hand trembled as I reached for the door, unlocking it. It opened with a deep sigh, as if the sadness embedded in my bones had somehow seeped inside. I stood still, the seconds stretching out endlessly before me. Everything looked the same, yet different somehow.

Sadie moved in first, her footsteps echoing in the hollow expanse of the entry way. I trailed behind, every little detail felt sharper, more excruciating. The discarded magazine on the living room table, a cushion askew on the couch, the pictures on the mantle-all reminders of a life that felt both achingly close and impossibly faraway.

"I think I'll make some tea," Sadie suggested softly, "would you like some?"

I nodded, clinging to whatever threads of normalcy were left. As she moved into the kitchen, I headed upstairs to wash up. The wooden steps groaned in protest beneath me, the sound of each step magnified in the otherwise quiet house. The unnerving stillness all around me was hard to ignore, surrounded by family photos looking back at me like silent watchful ghosts.

Averting my eyes, I made my way to the bathroom. Pushing the door open, I turned on the tap, letting the water run over my hands, watching as it swirled down the drain. The cold had a numbing effect, and I took what felt like my first breath all day now that I was alone. I kept trying to hold it together, I knew how worried Sadie was about me. She never said it out loud, but I could see the tension woven like wire into her frame, unyielding and rigid. It was in her eyes, the way they were always creased and observing me; as if I might break at any moment. I wanted to tell her not to worry, I was already broken.