The Day of Regret

Prologue

As her eyes fell on the picture of her old home, she was filled with familiarity. The picture taken long ago fading at the edges. The first colour she saw was purple. The purple flowers of her jacaranda tree from her childhood. It was her favourite type of tree. She loved the way it swayed in the wind and sprinkled tiny vibrant flowers onto the wet ground. When she was little she would stand under it while the wind blowed and would try to catch the falling flowers. Only barely touching them with her finger tips while the wind blew them higher and fell on the ground behind her.

The day the picture was taken was overcast. The grey of the clouds seem to dull every colour except for the purple. The moist earth and patches of healthy grass were scattered with teardrop shaped crystals from freshly poured rain. Making the fallen purple shimmer in the photograph.

Her house was on a slope so she could see where her footsteps were when she had taken the photo on the road. Her feet so small then, she remembered she would had to put all her force into the jump when leaping into puddles to create the biggest splash and she remembered the amusement when the water successfully soaked her younger sisters face. A face she would no longer see anymore.

Her eyes lingered on the photo for a long moment until she realised there was a rain drop quite bigger than the others. No not a raindrop, a single tear. She patterned the skin under her eyes and wasn't surprised to find it wet. She had never forgotten this photo. It was the day she didn't say goodbye to her sister. The day she regretted the most.

That thing that killed her sister, also killed the only compassion she had left for this world. Killed the passion and the will to live. But she couldn't take her own life because that thing would stop her just before the task was complete. She would have to live with the pain and the torture but never, ever again feel relief.

Why did this have to happen to her of all people? She had been stripped of all emotion, now she was dead inside. She had no will to live. Except with her sister, the only loved one she had left. She swore to protect her from the monsters under her bed. But couldn't protect her from the ones outside.

She was only three years old. Too young to know that monsters exist. Too young to know that the most evil of things offer you flowers, chocolate and an expensive diamond ring. Too young to know that you can't trust anyone, not even those who don't know enough.

But if monsters can't love than why should they.