NIKOLAI

prologue

when it's cold i'd like to die- moby

"I don't want to fight the tide,

I don't want to swim forever,

When it's cold I'd like to die."

ʚĭɞ ʚĭɞ ʚĭɞ

A scarlet river of blood running down the pearly white staircase.

Drip.

My crystal heart shattering on the floor.

Drip.

Agony seeping into my chest cavity, its dark tendrils reaching for my heart.

Drip.

Gripping, tightening around the wretched organ until I was sure death would come for me next.

Drip.

My mother's beautiful eyes, forever closed.

Drip.

My incessant tears that sickening night trickled endlessly as the leaky faucet above me does now. I didn't stop crying for seven days straight. I started doing this to see how long I could make it all stop. After all, if one cries underwater, it's as if one weren't crying at all. I didn't care that everytime I did it, my chest felt like it was caving in. Or that the quiet was deafening, blocking out everything else. I already felt like that every moment of every day. The longer I stayed, the closer I felt to the edge. The closer I felt to Mama. Because if I died, it meant I would be with her again.

As my head breaks the surface, I immediately start coughing. I take frantic, desperate breaths, attempting and failing to fill my deprived lungs with air. My throat burns raw. At first, I only wheeze in what little oxygen I can. But eventually, my breathing evens out, my deliriousness being the only proof that I almost just drowned myself.

Slowly, I get out of the porcelain tub. Bathwater drips off of me onto the bathroom tiles, making the same sound my mother's blood made as it met the staircases' marble. When I look in the mirror, a ghost looks back at me. My skin has turned blue; my lips, purple. My bones have begun to stick out in some places. My eyes are completely lifeless. What beauty I once possessed has been smothered under the weight of my mother's death.

The only thing that made me get out of bed this morning was the promise of visiting her today. And the fact that I am the only one my Coco has left.

After pulling on a dress and some shoes, I'm ready to head to the cemetery. "Come on, baby," I tell my cat, scooping her up into my arms. "Let's go say hi to Mama."

ʚĭɞ ʚĭɞ ʚĭɞ

IN LOVING MEMORY OF

SCARLET MILANI

BELOVED MOTHER AND FRIEND

1975-2010

Her headstone is simple yet tasteful. When she passed, her funeral costs were paid for in full. I'm not sure if the neighborhood pitched in or if it was an anonymous donor, but I never found out. I couldn't afford to question the blessing. But I was grateful someone was kind enough to do that. I don't know where I would have gotten the money. I had no job and no trust fund. My mother always told me to focus on my studies and we had always been well off. I never counted on losing her.