Blackbird

Dropped

Going back was the hard part. I was just exhausted, physically, mentally, emotionally. I hadn't talked to anyone hell I went to help with arranging the funeral as much I could and stayed for the will but I wasn't allowed anywhere near the actual procession. My mother was even so kind to book my ticket back to Ireland, the morning of the actual funeral to ensure I would not attend. So now I'm sitting on a plane, my eyes raw my hands still stinging from the healing cuts and my mind shot. I don't know if I'm grateful I'm going back to Andrew or nervous. I essentially left with next to no explanation and just had one bad event after another. No one had international coverage so I couldn't call him. It's been almost seven days. That's how long we've been apart and it seems like longer. But I'm too numb to feel anything right now. I just need to rest before we land.

A stewardess wakes me up when we land, I don't feel rested if it's possible I feel worse than when I went to sleep. I think the stress of everything was making me sick but being back in Ireland is like a breath of fresh air, a home even if it hadn't been staying in Ireland that long. I don't have too much stuff to take with me and I catch a train to as close to Andrew's house as possible before just walking the rest of the way. It's not too bad, it's not snowing and I'm wearing warm clothes. The crisp winter air clears my foggy head and I'm almost okay when I make it to the house.
Getting there though I can tell something is wrong, something in the air like the electricity in the air before a thunderstorm. I step up to the door shaking off the snow that cling to my boots and find the door unlocked. That's when the smell hits me, it's overpoweringly sickeningly sweet and cheap perfume. The smell makes my head swim and I set my bag down before walking to the kitchen. Empty bottles of alcohol and various glasses little the counter, I pick one up noting the bright pink lipstick imprint on the glass.
I look at the time it's 8 am, maybe it was Mia? Did he call over the band? I try and scramble for any excuse telling me that the sneaking suspicion in the back of my head is false. I silently walk up stairs and find several doors are closed I open one and Elwood comes barreling out licking at me and I get down to my knees to pet him.
"Hey boy. What were you doing in there hmm?" I mutter absently, my mind wandering. Why was Elwood locked up? He was never locked up? Andrew wouldn't do that, would he?
I stand up abruptly and walk to Andrews door. I hear water running and I pause for a second, do I really want my question answered? I make up my mind and open the door. The curtains are drawn still and I see Andrew laying on the bed passed out. More bottles litter the room accompanied by clothes, woman's clothes and not mine. Steam is leaking out of the bathrooms shut door and I walk over to Andrew. I stand above him with a heavy heart, I see the remains of whatever happened. Smeared pink lipstick, red marks from mouth and nail. I bite my lip so no sound escapes, only stopping when I taste blood. I shake his shoulder and he wakes up disorientated.
He runs his eyes sitting up the sheet falling to his waist exposing his bare chest. He blinks registering my presence.
"Aria?" He looks confused then relieved and then panicked as he realises I know. I know what he did. He's about to open the door again when a woman steps out of the bathroom, barely holding the towel. However she clutches it to her when she notices me.
"Who is she?!" She points accusingly at me.
"I was just leaving." I smile softly, my heart finally dropped and for the second time in a week it shattered.  

••••well it looks like we are off to a rather dramatic part to the sequel. Be prepared loves. An author is out for blood this time.••••