DESOLATION

22

Day 15 in Garristown

The fire crackles in the hearth, sending up lazy sparks that curl and vanish into the chimney like forgotten wishes. Am I sad because of my forgotten wishes or because of those that became a reality? With these thoughts, I look as dry logs hiss and the wood splits open with slow groans, as if even the fire is tired of trying. The warmth should have wrapped around me, made me feel at home, but what I am feeling is far away from it.

Outside, the winter is pressing against the windows. With this, there is a faint sound of window glass rattling when the cold wind strikes. It is not snowing, but it will in a few days. Inside, it is colder not in temperature but in the way the loneliness is seeping into my bones, deeper than the cold ever could. There are no giggles, no sound of talking, and nothing except me and the silence.

I quietly watch the flame devour the wood, slow and greedy, and think of how loneliness is doing the same with me. It is devouring me in silence and slowly like a slow poison, which you do not feel at first, but it is silently working towards taking your life. It is working on me quietly, constantly, and bit by bit I am being hollowed out, but there is nothing that I can do to stop it.

I chuckle at the ironic thought. I am just like the log, which was once strong but is now breaking open and is splintering from the inside, just because it could not bear the fire.

Loneliness is not loud. It just sits beside me, patient and cruel.

As the fire turns stronger, it reminds me of what I have lost. After that horrible day of questioning my sanity, I did not feel like leaving this cottage and going into the town anymore. Only I know how many times I thought about it all.

Suddenly, the memories of how it all began start rolling inside my mind. I wonder where I went wrong. What did I do that triggered Lorcan to do this with me? Was it when I talked with George for the first time, or was it when he took me to his home? Maybe I should not have even talked with him. In this way, at least he would have been safe.

Look, now, Inez, where did this lead you, where did this lead George? Now he is forgotten, as if he never existed. I remember, I remember it crystal clear what Lorcan said to me before letting me go.

"Inez, you may be far from me, but you will never be out of my sight. If I see you giving someone what belongs to me, you know what I will do. Your smile, your heart, your body, your everything is only mine. Don't ever forget that you are the wife of Lorcan Gatchel."

Yes, those were his exact words. He warned me, he told me what would happen if I defied him, but I still made that mistake. He did nothing, yet did everything. The worry is eating me from the inside. Where is George? What happened to him? Is he even alive?

On one hand, I am sure it is Lorcan who did this, but on the other, a faint voice in my head is saying that maybe this time he did not do anything, and it was indeed my imagination. How could it be possible that no one saw him or even knew him when everyone knew him the day before? I would have believed Lorcan was behind all this if I had not seen the house and everything with my own eyes. It was different, everything was different, even the smallest details from the ivy outside the house to the paint and the furniture.

Could there be a possibility that, because of living without any friends for a long time, I imagined George? It is possible, but why does it feel so real then? And the bracelet? Why do I have it then? Maybe I bought it and thought that George gave it to me. If I can imagine a whole person, then why not that imaginary person buying me the bracelet?

With these thoughts, I look at the bracelet that is around my wrist.

These thoughts have started to give me a headache. I pull my knees closer to my chest and look at the empty living room. It has been a few days since I locked myself inside this cottage, and no one has disturbed me even a single time.