Fish Out Of Water

A bolt of lightening illuminated my dark bedroom, streaking past my open window as my curtains billowed in waves to the call of the wind. I counted the seconds, 1... 2... 3... 4... the familiar cackle that followed the lightening growled menacingly, I sat up in my bed, wide awake. The wind howled and the rain lashed out, creating small puddles on the glass, My room was simple, only the necessities were needed, a bed, a lamp and a wardrobe. My books were scattered in piles around the edge of the walls, each pile varied in size and contained a variety of titles, each of them well-read. Dracula, Frankenstein, The Great Gatsby, Little Women, Wuthering Heights, Fight Club, The Wasp Factory, Harry Potter, The Chronicles Of Narnia... The battered covers lay on top of one another.

There was a simple grey rug on the floor that sat on my worn wooden floor, the rug separated me from the only window in my room. It was quite large taking up half of the wall, the glass held in by a frame painted white. A small ledge extended into my domain, creating a makeshift window seat pilled high with cushions, some sown by long lost relatives, the edges frayed and tattered, others given as presents. I was a hard person to buy presents for; not that I asked for them.

My window was currently flapping outwards, beckoning to the storm. Living by the coast was a blessing and a curse, the sea brought in awful winds that rolled off of the top of the water onto the land like a poltergeist, upturning plant pots and creating havoc. I sighed heavily and twisted myself out of the bed, untangling my limbs from the blankets I had hidden myself underneath. I pushed my toes against the cold wooden floorboards and stretched my arms right up over my head pushing my shoulder blades together. I clicked my neck and stood up, waiting for my vision to clear, I had been laying down for too long.

I stumbled over to the bathroom that acted as a bridge between my sister and I. Her room, was symmetrical to mine, no arguments. I locked both doors and stood in front of the bathroom mirror, it hung above a cabinet endowed with a small sink. I turned the cold tap, and waited for the delayed water to gush out of the tap, it fell in what seemed like a continuous cycle, the water fell like a waterfall and was swallowed by the plug hole, into the unknown. 

I let the water splash over my wrists, and watched as it dripped from my arms. I gathered some into my palms and threw it into my face, then again, and again. Trying to eject the last traces of drowsiness that clung to my eyelids, I turned the tap in the opposite direction cutting off the water abruptly.

I pushed my shoulder length brown hair off of my face and tipped my head back, letting the tips tickle my shoulder blades. Shaking my head I laughed, not for any real reason, just because I felt like it. I had never been a dark, brooding person; I never used to be fascinated by tap water. 

I unlocked both doors and returned back into the room, the storm had let up a little bit, the wind had softened and the rain had diminished into a pathetic patter. 

Then from the corner of my eye, I saw a dark shape looming in front of my window. I gasped and jumped back against the wall, pressing my back into the cold pale paint. The shadow blocked out the dim light off of the reflective moon, but the harder I looked at the shape the more it began to look like... 

“Bells?” I whispered, holding my clenched fist to my heart trying to dampen the frantic jumping. 

The shadow didn’t respond, Bella didn’t even twitch. She was facing the open window, kneeling, her back towards me, her nighty hitched. It was an old cotton knee length dress with a bumblebee on the front, a little bit small. She had never had the heart to throw the old thing away, too many memories, most of them good; uncommon these days.

I edged around the side of the wall, keeping my movements small. Her face was illuminated and her eyes transfixed on the picture outside, the dark waves rolling along the coast, seeping between the shingle. The wind rustled her long, thick, dark brown hair; I had always been jealous of her hair, her patience. I could never wait for mine to grow out.

“Isabella?” I called out to her, unnerved by her stillness, “what are you doing in here? At...” I looked down at my wristwatch balanced on a copy of Alice in Wonderland, “3:33 am?”

I treaded carefully across the floor sinking my toes into the slightly damp grey carpet, and reached out to touch her. But the further I reached, the further she seemed to be. She wasn’t moving, wasn’t even breathing, I took another step and reached out with new confidence, I just wanted this to be over.

She started to lean forward to evade my touch, and I screamed as she started to tumble out of the window head first and I rushed forwards to catch her, but I was too late.

“Eliza!” she gasped as her knees left the ledge and she dropped like a stone to the beach below, her hair streaming past her face, she looked shocked and confused as she caught my eye, was that a hint of blame? 

“BELLA?! NO! FUCK!” I shrieked, tears rushing from my eyes like tap water. A sickening thud and crunch, made me want to vomit. I couldn’t breathe, I was hysterical, sobbing and hiccuping, screaming, chanting; “fuck, fuck, fuck. fuck...”

Something dark started to expand around her halo of hair, it seemed to hug at her body and seep down the cracks in the rocks she had landed upon, like a broken doll. Her eyes glazed like dark buttons, or glass, big blue glassy eyes surrounded by a pale, porcelain face. Beautiful. My chest shook and heaved as I chocked on air and I pulled myself away from the open window, and collapsed onto the cold hard wooden floor, the ledge digging into my back. I couldn’t move, I could only shake. I tried to scream, for Nick; for Dad; for Mum.

My little sister was dead, and I pushed her out of the window. I killed her.

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