I wake up for the second time today and glance reluctantly at the clock. It reads 9:57. I groan and turn over in my bed, further cocooning myself in my blankets. I squeeze my eyes closed and try to fall asleep again, but give up after 15 minutes with no success. I push myself out of bed, still only half awake.
I head straight to the kitchen to make Mary and I some pancakes for breakfast - it is Saturday morning after all. Mary and I have been eating pancakes every Saturday morning for as long I can remember. Mom used to be the one cooking, but I took over her position as chef after she died. Mom's pancakes were better than mine are, but Mary never complains. I am grateful for it.
"Good morning." Mary yawns as she enters the kitchen.
"G'morning." I return.
"Mmm," she hums, "I smell pancakes."
"Chocolate chip today." I say.
"But you don't like chocolate chips?"
"I know, I made myself plain ones."
"Oh okay, thanks!" She says with excitement.
"Felt like treating you today." I smile.
I feel her arms wrap around me from behind as she pulls me into a hug.
"Hey, careful, I'm cooking!" I laugh.
"Are you rejecting my affection?"
I turn around to see a play-pout on her face.
"Yes, that's exactly what I'm doing." I tease. "Affection is not permitted in this residence."
"But aren't you showing me affection by making me breakfast?" She counters.
"Shut up." I laugh, recognizing the truth in her statement.
As I give Mary her plate of pancakes I see a smug smirk on her face.
"No chocolate chips for you next week!" I joke.
"Hey!"
Now it's my turn to smirk smugly at her.
Once we both finish breakfast, I head back to my room to grab my phone. The package from yesterday still sits on the floor. As I go to pick it up, it is not empty like I had originally thought.
An opened pocketknife lays inside.
As I stare at the knife wide-eyed, I begin to feel my heart race erratically in my chest. Each beat pounds hard and quick against my ribcage, but this time I force myself to be brave.
With shaky hands, I take the knife out of the box and observe it closely. The blade is long and sharp. Once I am able to steady my hands, I touch the tip lightly with my finger, and a single drop of blood escapes. I watch it run down the length of the blade, then the handle, and then fall to the floor, disappearing into my blue-green carpet.
As I wipe my blood from the blade with the pad of my finger, I notice an inscription. It is written in a language I don't understand.
Omnia mors aequat
With the pocketknife still in my hand, I rush to my phone and enter the phrase in Google Translate.
Death makes all things equal.
My eyes go wide, and I slam the knife shut. I then shove it behind my dresser where the note is. I stalk backwards away from it until I reach my bed. My knees give and I collapse onto my mattress. I put my head in my hands, overwhelmed by the package once again.
When will I finally be able to put her death in my past?
I sit like this for a long time, drowning in my thoughts, before I decide that I need to get my mind off of things. I can't stand to sit here any longer, so I send Louis a text:
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Penumbra
FanfictionJacqueline Elizabeth White. Resilient, brave, determined, and terribly alone. After her mother was murdered and her father abandoned her soon after, Jacqueline was left an orphan. As she struggles to cope she must also take care of her younger siste...