The Last Symphony

Chapter Four

The rest of the night passed by fitfully. By the time the sun stretched its weary head through my window, I found myself awake staring at the dust flickering in the light. With a sigh, I reached across my bed and grabbed my phone off the end table. Inky blackness caught the corner of my eye and I paused. The tattoo was back. Then again, it'd never really left, only missing in a dream. I laid the mark against my forehead and lifted my phone.

By habit, I unlocked the screen and scanned through my friends' news feeds with no real goal. I struggled not to throw the device. Arguments, drama, same old same old filled my screen. I wanted to share my troubles, to text my story against that glass screen, but I didn't. They'd all think I was crazy.

Maybe I was.

Sliding my feet onto the floor, a cold sensation traveled up my legs. I shuffled towards the hallway, my baggy pajamas brushing against my legs. Today, I had work. I had a job and coworkers who relied on me to show up and cover my shift. But inside, all I felt was emptiness. I was doomed to death, why bother with work? But the Jackal had provided an estimate and it was just that, an
estimate. I didn't want to spend my last few days, months, or years wasting away and dragging my brother down. He deserved better.

When dad died, mom couldn't take their room anymore and made Jacob switch. He took over the master bedroom and bathroom. But I had to take the long trek down the hallway for my bathroom. As I got closer, I noticed that the door was shut. Mom? No, she was always so loud when she came home.

Giving a courtesy knock, Jacob should be home but he never used my toilet unless it was an emergency, I waited but there was no response. It could be the girlfriend. Had the tattoo disappeared and he brought her home to celebrate? I wasn't ready to face her. To face what she'd done. She put my brothers life in danger.

Perhaps it would be better to face her now. In the light of the morning sun, when my brother was sound asleep. She might have answers to this. I jiggled the handle and it easily swung open under my hand. I shaded my eyes and called out. "Sorry, sorry, I was just-" my voice echoed back at me in the empty room and I moved my hand away.

"Huh."

He might've used my bathroom when he got home. Not extremely uncommon for him in an emergency, especially if he forgot to stock his own with toilet paper again. I shrugged and made a mental note to spare him a spare roll. I stepped through the threshold, the bathroom floor bitter against my foot. But as I reached the toilet, the world started to turn blurry and unsteady beneath me. Wildly trying to catch my balance, I glanced from the sink to the shower as they swirled before my eyes. The porcelain bled like ink. The ground beneath me moved and the shift continued until I no longer stood in my bathroom. Hard tile beneath my feet transformed into dirt. The stagnant air became breezy and bitter against my skin. Cold strains of hair whipped against my face as strange lights mixed into darkness came into view. And people.

Other people.

A nightmare. Except I wasn't naked, I wore pajamas. And I'm not asleep. The fabric was thin against the cold wind. My body shook from the shock of a new environment and I fell to my knees as the dizziness settled. The loud noises of a crowd, the bight flashing lights of activity. Concerned faces turned toward me, and panic seethed in my chest. Stands of produce and wares lined the sidewalk. I pushed myself up and ran into the closest building.

As I pressed against the glass, the door chimed. I glanced up at the old bell sitting atop the worn wooden door. Movement caught my eye when the cashier slid around the counter, a wiry old man with a pair of spectacles on the tip of his nose. His dark hair matched his tanned skin. But it wasn't just the cashier that caught my attention.