expire

Chapter 17

Chapter 17

The dark figure, shrouded within the shadow of a long, sweeping black cloak, remained silhouetted against my mind's eye, refusing to budge. Whoever it was continued to sabotage my thoughts, my conscience, and my sleep, a whole six hours after I had been informed of the murder of my family.

My glossy nightgown fell in pleats as I sat up in bed, my head groggy from lack of much needed sleep. I think it was safe to say I had had a long day. The pocket watch Solstice had issued me with lay untouched and silvery on my white night-stand, it's sleek chain glistening in the moonlight streaming through my window. Glancing over at it, I saw the time displayed through a pair of delicate golden arms. Three o'clock in the morning. Too early.

I pressed my hand over my eyes, darkening my world for just a moment. My eyes still burned with the image, and even with closed eyes the figure danced on the inside of my eyelids, taunting me, just out of reach. The sudden hatred I felt for that shrouded figure churned slowly in my stomach, and all of a sudden I felt sick, weak, tired.

I plumped my pillows and leant against them with a sigh, feeling my forehead with the back of my hand. It was warm, but not in an ill way. My hand was cool though, and I left it there for a second before it seemed to gain weight and dropped back into my lap. Glassy hands, I thought, tracing the lines that used to lace my human skin. There were none there now, of course, but the memory of them replayed suddenly in my mind. For a second I was free of the black silhouette; the peace was welcome, although it had made no noise. But soon enough, at just a hint of its existence, the figure reappeared, darker and more menacing than ever.

Water, I thought, would clear my head, and so with a heavy body I pushed myself upwards, and let my feet control the direction in which I was travelling. Somehow I sleepily made my way to the door without waking Seren, who slept soundly in the bed next to mine. I pivoted slowly, just to check she was asleep, before padding out the door.

Once outside, the temperature shocked my skin, and I drew my nightgown tighter around me, blocking out the cool night air. I glanced sideways to find the window open, it's shimmering silk curtains fluttering in the light breeze. I pattered over to them, the curtains embracing me with long, white tails, and reached my arm up to close the sash. A light breeze curled around my glass fingers as they enclosed the handle, and I lifted my head to see out the window.

The sky wasn't black, or navy, like the sky at home; it was purple, a deep, dark plum bruising the sky into a thunderous palette. From what I could see, there were no clouds, no stars, and no moon, and the sky seemed empty, almost soulless. The only lights came from the glittering city beneath it; windows glowed with the remnants of today's work yet to be done; the lights shone bright in the homes of late-nighters and hard workers. A hundred different colours sparkled across the city, brightening the thundering heavens, and for a moment, it was beautiful. But it was all man-made, unnatural, and shouldn't be here; this was a home for the dead, and the only light we got was artificial.

We lived in the dark. And that is how it always will be.

My attention returned to the sash, and I began to pull it closed, the wind continuing to wash against my skin. It lifted my hair into my eyes, and I had to brush it away, the watery feel of it lingering on my fingertips.

Suddenly a familiar smudge of yellow caught my eye, and I squinted, the window hindering my vision. It was the flower field Seren had shown me earlier, sitting in all it's glory at the very edge of my line of sight; at the very edge of the city. The ashen flowers Seren had held earlier came to mind, and I clutched my free hand together, as if I held one now in my palm. It was cruel beauty, this life. Beautiful once, then gone forever. So short-lived.

Those flowers were the only natural things in this world.

Without knowing, my hand slid back down the window, leaving the breeze to it's own devices. The glass window was cold underneath my fingers, although both were made of the same thing. My legs gave way beneath me and I fell, my head landing hesitantly onto the thick carpet, my hair spread-eagled around it like an enlarged halo. The wind smothered me, overwhelming me into a state of chill; it writhed between my limbs and brought forth a temperature I was not familiar with. I no longer felt like glass. I felt like ice.

I brought my knees up against my chest and tugged my nightgown around me further, although it did no good. The silken garment slid off my body like water, as if I were not beneath it, and hung in waves down to the floor, where it spilled into a delicate circle of white.

I felt small. Small and powerless. I had lost more than I had. My tears were worthless, but they continued to flow. Solidifying into glass as they fell. Remaining still once they had landed on the floor.

My family were once alive.

Now they were gone.