The Aftermath

Chapter 1

Lucian's POV

Ten years later

My heart pounds softly in my chest, the sound accompanied by the soft scrapes of silverware against plates and the quiet murmurs of my parents as we eat. Their voices kept low, as if scared to disrupt the now normal quiet lingering in the house. It's been this way for years. So deathly quiet as we slowly grew accustomed to what would now be our norm.

"Darling, is everything alright? You've barely had anything to eat." My mothers soft voice draws me from my thoughts. The red around her eyes less prominent than yesterday, a small, worried frown taking its residence on her face.

"Oh. Yea, I'm fine." I pause, the house going quiet as both my parents look at me, worry lining their faces, my father hiding it better than my mother. "Actually, I think I'm going to call it a night. I'm not really hungry." I finish, slowly raising from my seat, grabbing my plate as I make my exit. I pass by the dining room once more, my mom calling out a small, "good night" as I pass.

It's been like this for a while. After my sister's passing, they became afraid to speak any louder than a whisper in fear of replacing her usually loud deceleration. She brought life to the house, she kept everyone together. As I walk the hall, I pause, the closed door to her room staring at me, begging me to come closer. No one's been in her room since she passed unless it was to clean away the dust. I slowly make my way closer to the door, raising my hand over the door knob, pausing once again as a combination of fear and hurt begins to surface. Taking a deep breath I open the door before closing it just as gently. My eyes wander, glancing from her sage green bed sheets to the faux leaves hung around the room in a way that reminded me of vines.

Empty flower pots rest in places that used to hold flourishing hibiscuses and peace lilies and half empty canisters of paint neatly sat across her desk. Everything about this room screams her. It screams at me that she's still out there somewhere, breathing and thriving. That this was all just some sick joke and us the victims. Tears began to prick my eyes as I took in the room, left exactly how she left it. No matter how much I wish and hope that this was a joke, a lie, it never will be. She's gone, and I have to accept that, but it's hard to accept that the one person who ever understood you is gone, forever seventeen. Taking a deep breath, I continue scanning my eyes across the room, flickering from gifts she received to projects she had started before finally zeroing in a shelf full of journals. Full is a bit of an overstatement as only three journals lay there, one bigger than the others. Hesitantly, I make my way to the shelf, pulling the first journal from its place, almost regretting it as it disturbed the piece that was once her room.

I stare at the slowly wilting cover, some pages bent as if closed in a rush. The journal had no name, no defining features that told me what lies inside. The only clue was the feeling of dread slowly creeping up my spine the longer I stood there, staring. Was this her diary? Would this tell me why she killed herself? With that thought in mind, I gathered the courage to open it, taking a seat on the edge of her bed as I slowly peel the cover, revealing the messily neat handwriting sprawled across the page. I take a deep breath and begin reading.

May 31, 2006

It's been a hectic day. Mom and Dad were arguing again, luckily Lucian didn't hear it, I can't imagine what he would have thought. I don't know how they do it, honestly. They have fight after fight and still have the courage to put on a happy front for Lucian and I. Maybe it's guilt? Maybe it's a way to make it up to us? I don't really know, and honestly, I don't really care as long as it doesn't affect Lucian. They fight about me a lot. Turns out I ruined a lot for them but I guess the same could be said about other families as well. They always round back to the same thing, that they still love me. Honestly it seems contradictory to me but what can I say, I don't have kids so I don't know. I love them regardless, they made me, and while I might not always like myself, they gave me a gift better than anything, my little brother. School was hell, as usual. Samantha came at me ten times harder than before, claiming I was trying to steal her man. I don't even know who she's dating this week haha. If I'm being honest, I kinda feel bad for her. Her friends never treat her well, she always seems like she  has so much to say but her voice is never heard unless she's putting others down. Maybe this is just me being naive and I'm giving her too much credit, I guess only time will tell.
    - Ella~

A smile rose on my face as I read, before slowly shifting to a frown, she was bullied? Maybe this is a misunderstanding, Morella was an amazing person, there's no way she wasn't one of the popular kids, she had it all. Shaking my head, I look farther down the page, reading the next entry.

June 4, 2006

My ribs hurt like hell, Samantha and her friends have been getting increasingly hostile. I'm not sure what to do, as time goes on, it seems my theory gets less and less plausible. Maybe she is just as bad as everyone says. She pretended to be my friend today. She came up to me, apologizing for everything she's done and I foolishly forgave her. I believed she wanted to change, to be seen for her instead of who she pretended to be. Later I found a note from her in my locker. I was such a fool.. The things she wrote were horrid.. "I've never met a more pathetic bitch, so desperate for affection. It's honestly sad. I'd rather kill myself than be friends with you." Her and her friends made sure to beat that lesson into my, it took all of lunch to gain the strength to stand after they were done with me. My head hurts. My heart hurts.
    - Ella~

I close the book with more force than necessary, a sharp sting tugging at my heart as I think of my sister being treated so poorly. She was the greatest person anyone could know, I saw it, strangers saw it, hell, everyone saw it. I simply couldn't wrap my head around it.

A creak in the hall broke me from my thoughts, two quiet voices slowly growing louder as the steps came closer and closer, eventually passing Morella's door. I quickly stand, gently placing the journal back on the shelf, ensuring no damage came to it. Out of the corner of my eye I see a small glass cat sitting on her desk. The cat was black with white paws, seemingly staring into my soul. I gently pick it up, twisting and turning the miniature figure to get a better look at it.  I guess one of her friends had got it for her, smiling at that though, I set it back down before moving away. As I turned to leave, I paused, taking one last glance around the room, tears forming in my eyes. She should be here.

Opening the door, I make my way to my room, one question bouncing around my head, why didn't she tell anyone?