Double Vision

11

011. bella .

feb. 15, 2024.

1:14 a.m.

I've been holding Reha for the last few hours. I think he might be asleep.

If Vira were to walk in right now, she'd probably immediately assume we did something and lecture me, but the poor guy just needs a hug.

One of his friends — I'm not sure if they were actually friends, but they lived together, so they must have been close to some extent — died from an aneurysm earlier. I had to help him deal with it and send everyone home and call someone to get the body and all that.

I gently adjusted his position as well as myself, trying to make sure he's at least comfortable. It's pitch black in here, so I'm not sure if he's awake or not, but it'd be awkward to try and strike up a conversation anyway.

As I'm sitting here, I'm seriously starting to wonder more about this case. Do I need to write everyone who was at the party down as a suspect? I don't want to give Vira the full story, she's going to assume it's Reha. I know he wouldn't do something like that.

Reha shuffled slightly, and I stiffened. It didn't last very long though as he went still again. I think he's asleep. 

I should probably sleep too, but I'm used to staying up late, so I'm not tired at all. 

I ran my fingers through his hair, the weight of the recent tragedy heavy in the air. The silence was deafening.

It makes me really happy I was the person he came to for help, though.

The questions lingering in my mind: should I consider everyone at the party a suspect? It seems like a drastic measure, but in the absence of concrete information, I feel like it's necessary.

Vira hasn't came in at all. She's probably asleep, honestly. I know she's going to immediately suspect Reha, though. My instincts tell me that he wouldn't be involved in anything like this though, especially given the vulnerability he's displayed the past few hours.

I hate this for him. I don't want him to be wrapped up in this mess, he's just a normal guy trying to live his life. He probably doesn't even know Aneri exists.

God, I feel myself sleeping. But I hate falling asleep after coming face to face with a dead person. It happens too often. 

Fuck it. Whatever. 

I like roses. But I'd rather not be in a field of black roses right now. 

Oh, Dad told me he wanted flowers, didn't he? Since moms gonna die when I get home. I don't know how I know that, it's just in my head.

Moms only 25. She had me and Vira when she was 12 and was forced to stay with dad. I wonder why she's dying today? She's perfectly healthy. 

I picked the roses one by one, the thorns digging into my palms. It hurts. 

Oh, the roses around me are changing colors. They're red now. I think Dad would like those more.

I let the black roses I was holding fall to the ground, and when I picked one of the red roses, it turned black again once I picked it up. 

That doesn't make any sense. 

I turned around. The black roses I had picked were gone. Maybe Vira will bring flowers. 

Oh, it's raining.

I don't know how, but after a few steps I ended up on my front porch. There's a wasp nest that Dads been saying he'd take care of for months. I've been stung by them multiple times before. 

I opened the door, and Vira was sitting in the corner in a ball. I see her like that a lot, don't I? Dad turned to me.

"It's all your fault."

What?

"Where are your flowers? She died since you didn't bring them."

Thats not fair. I wasn't even here. How is it my fault?

"She wasn't supposed to die young. I hope you die young, too."

What did I do?

I felt someone shake my arm from behind. I turned around, and—

"Fuck!" I shouted, shooting up from my bed. 

Reha was sitting next to me, a puzzled expression on his face. His hand was on my arm.

Oh, that makes sense. I rubbed my eyes. "Shit, my bad. Hey. You sleep well?"

Reha nodded slightly, still looking a bit disoriented. I took a moment to collect myself. That was just a dream – a weird, unsettling dream.

"Sorry about that," I mumbled, pushing my bangs out of my face. "Nightmare. Scared the shit out of me." I stifled a laugh.

Reha gazed at me for a moment, saying nothing. "It's okay."

"Yeah," I said, the events from last night flooding back into my mind. "How are you feeling now?"

He shrugged. "I don't know."

"I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry?"

"You're sad."

He paused, seemingly contemplating his response. "No I'm not." he cleared his throat. "Thanks for letting me sleep over, though."

"Hey, it's nothing!" I smiled. "I'm just being an amazing friend, despite you assume me not to be one."

"I don't think you're a bad friend. I just think you're a nutcase."

"I hate you."

I want icecream.