Exactly one month after that horrific day, it began.
The chain of events that would lead me to reminisce that day.
It began innocuously enough. The way it does in the movies. A cloth thrown here, a mirror at a weird angle. I paid no attention to these things. There were more important things in life. The guilt of Rose's death was eating me alive.
The expression on her face, as she realised that her closest friend, her lover, was doing nothing to stop her horrible fate..that expression haunted me at night. It felt almost as if she was staring at me as I slept, like she did when she slept next to me. Only that now, it was unnerving. She couldn't possibly be here, could she? She was dead, after all.
The first signs that I noticed were the ones which affected my work. I was filming a documentary with one of the interns when my video camera automatically looped back to an earlier recording of Rose. I could've chalked it up to an equipment malfunction, but then I remembered this scene. It wasn't even on the same memory device!
As startled as I was, I couldn't let anyone know about this, so I worked as if nothing was wrong. However, my conscience was now almost a different person, yelling at me to correct the error of my ways. I realized with a start, that I was too far gone.
There are different versions of us living within the minds of others. Sometimes, I wonder how different they all are. It's not limited to others, though. We have several different versions of ourselves fighting for attention in the depths of our minds. Right now, I was divided. Much like a civil war re-enactment, the two halves of my mind were interrelated, but they wanted to be free of the other and achieve supremacy. One half wanted me to go back to the way I was..to forget about the whole thing and move on. The other half, however, was a pricking me like a thorn. Constantly telling me that I should rectify my mistake..go to someone and confess. Maybe there would be redemption, maybe I could salvage a part of my psyche by coming clean about Rose's death.
This, however, was the option that the bravest people would choose. I knew that the serial killer was still out there..keeping a lookout for me. He had seen my face, and I still feared for my life. How much ever I loved Rose, I didn't want to end up someone's dinner. I was no hero but to be a victim of the horrors that she was, during her favorite time of the year, I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy.
That evening, the air grew colder as the sun set on the horizon. Winter was hardly welcome in our part of the world, but now, it was too cold. Unforgivable, almost.
As I sipped on a cup of coffee, a sharp pain went up my spine. Unable to call for help, I crawled out of my seat and made my way to the phone. As I tried to make a call to emergency services, I realized that the phone line was dead.
My cell phone would've been the next logical option, but, only that morning, I had received a rather disturbing voicemail which almost sounded like Rose and then my phone had stopped working* It hadn't been the best start to the day - something I never thought I'd say if I got to talk to Rose. The real Rose - and now the day was just getting worse.
Suddenly, I got a call on my cell phone. Confused, I crawled toward it. As I got nearer, the pain in my back subsided.
"Hello? Who is this?" I said. "Hey, maybe we should've stayed home today, eh?" answered the voice on the other side. I almost dropped the phone in shock. The voice..it belonged to Rose. There was no mistaking it. "If this is somebody's idea of a joke, it's not funny, asshole! Who is this?" "Babe," 'Rose' answered, "it's me. I'm here for you. How's the back pain?" How could the caller know I had a back ache? This was freaking me out. "What do you want? I want nothing to do with you!" I said, as I threw away my phone and slumped back onto the floor.
It was at this moment, that I saw her. Rose. Standing at the doorway. She looked as beautiful as ever. "Why'd you cut the call?" She asked. Her voice was simultaneously the sweetest and the most disturbing sound I could hear at that very moment. She looked unscathed, pure, as if nothing had ever happened to her. The look on my face was probably one of pure terror, because she looked concerned. "Babe, is everything okay? You look like you've seen a ghost," she said. "Y-you, b-but, how? How?" I stammered. "Well, I always knew you weren't good at taking care of yourself, hell, you couldn't even take care of me. So I came back to..help you take care of some things," she explained, as if this was common sense.
"R-r-rose, I didn't m-mean," I struggled to find the words. This time, it wasn't shock, but almost as if my tongue were tying itself into knots, impeding normal speech. "Seeing how good you are at keeping your mouth shut, beloved, why stop now? Let me help you stay silent - permanently." Her voice was now a mixture of disgust and malice, nothing like the Rose I knew. This was when I knew. This was my penance. Rose had come back to end me. "I'm surprised you got a pain in your back, considering you don't even possess a spine!" Her voice grew louder, "Here, beloved, take a moment to grow one. Oh wait. You're never going to be able to! So, darling, consider this a break up!" By this point, I had been walking away from her, and I realised, too late, that I was at the edge of our balcony. "Jump", she said. I obeyed like a little child. "Don't bother calling me on the other side," she yelled out, as I plummeted twenty three storeys down, into the busy street.
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YOU ARE READING
Mortis et Amor em Rosa
Mistério / SuspenseLove can either push us to the greatest lengths to save someone, or paralyze us when there is a lack thereof. This is the story of my one great love, and how everything went horribly wrong. This is the story of Rose. May she rest in peace.