Penumbra

Chapter 3

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: