Joanna (Short Story)

Joanna

11: 26 P.M. 24th April 2007

Jane Reese slowly crept into her sister's room; trying not to make a sound. She breathed in the familiar scent of Lilac & Lavender, but something depressing was swimming around in the air, overpowering the perfume. There was no need to be cautious as her sister wasn't in there. Jane glanced around the messy room, as a feeling of nostalgia settled within her; like it did every time she came in Joanna's room.

"How she hated cleaning," thought Jane as she stepped over the carelessly tossed bag which had been lying there two weeks and the last person to have carried it, was Joanne.

The silky, golden bob of Jane's hair shone as she walked past the window with blinds, which let in streaks of moonlight. Her small, slim and composed figure felt out of place in the room with papers, clothes, and paint brushes strewn about. There were rows of paintings lined up, opposite to the bed and each one was a masterpiece. The ones further back were older ones, happy ones. But, as time passed on these canvases, you could see the evident change in emotion.

The last one Joanna did wasn't a painting, it was a biro-pen sketch of the great oak tree on the edge of the cliff, which was her favourite spot. On one of the lower branches, there was a girl, leaning against the tree with her feet hanging mid-air. And if you looked closer, you could see her soft smile and both eyes shut with a breeze blowing through her curls. Staring at the peaceful drawing, it made Jane wonder if that's what she's ever wanted ...

"...peace," she whispered to the empty room in a faint hush and quietly left the room- without glancing back- just like she entered. The scars of two weeks ago were still fresh in Jane's mind and entering the room was like rubbing salt on a wound, but she vowed to never to forget her sister and try to revive and treasure every single detail about Joanna Reese.

Without a sound, the door closed and the lock clicked as Jane fastened her pace towards her own bedroom. Her feet padded the carpeted floor as gently as her falling tears. Clumsily, she brushed away the silent tears on her cheeks, the sob stuck in her throat was now a painful lump urging for a glass of water. She turned the knob of her door and shut it carelessly because all she wanted now was to cry shamelessly on her bed till she ran out of tears, like every other night since the fifteenth of April.

9:45 A.M. 15th April

Jane didn't sleep the previous night, which left her with dark tired bags under her eyes and in a slightly dazed state.

"The funeral is today!" she suddenly remembered, as she rolled onto her back on the bed.

It had been two days since the awful night where the Reese' got a phone call, to report the dead body of Joanna Reese.

"'A shocking suicide', the newspapers called it, which it was, but apparently the story was not good enough to appear on the first page," Jane thought angrily, " -in other news, another celebrity got arrested, again- what is wrong with this world?"

When funeral began, Jane saw her sister again after two days. Her mother, beside her, was sobbing uncontrollably and many relatives and friends; all dressed in black of course, kept glancing at her, as if expecting her to starting wailing like her mother. But she couldn't, her eyes were dry while the coffin was placed next to the burial pit.

Finally, everyone could see Joanna, but Joanna was long gone; even before she hung herself, she was dead.

The once vibrant jade eyes, that Jane was jealous of, was lifeless: just like her smile. And her hands which used to hold so much talent, which guided the strokes of sheer creativity, were now laid on bottle-green silk... forever still.

Prayers and sympathies were said and the coffin was closed.

"That is the last time I'll ever see her face to face," she thought wistfully, but the tears wouldn't come. "Why aren't I crying?" Jane pondered over why the sudden death of her sister hadn't affected her as much as it should have; when the first grains of soil were discarded into the grave, Jane realised why.

The mere thought about Joanna not existing- not sleeping in the opposite room to her and instead rotting away in a casket-was unthinkable. It was the refusal to believe, Jane's sixteen year-old sister had committed suicide; one thing she couldn't understand.

7:15 P.M. 15th 2009 (Jane's POV)

Two years. Yesterday was Joanna's two year anniversary.

As a kid, I always thought anniversaries were celebrated; now I feel stupid. Of course no-one acknowledged the date yesterday, and went on with our business. I live with my grandparents now, due to the fact that I couldn't cope with the lifestyle my parents offered to me.

One week with mum and the next with dad.

Oh, I forgot. My parents split, divorced, whatever. I didn't know what or how to feel about it. They were both workaholics, I can't say they were there for me when Joanna left.

Because they weren't.

They were too busy blaming each other for her death. I just rolled my eyes and put my earphones on full volume.

'What can I do?' That was my excuse.

One night I had enough.

2008, Like every other night since... you know.

I walked over to the entrance of the room and watched.

They didn't even notice me.

"It's you, you're what's wrong in this house George!"

"Me?! Who do you think you are? I know what you do at work with Richard!"

"Richard? Are you kidding me?! How dare you?"

They were just going at each other. Take any reason to bring out the fangs.

And I didn't feel anything, like every normal kid who watched their parents did.

They weren't my parents, we were just strangers living in a house whom make small talk to avoid the occasional awkward silence when at home. They didn't care about me, they try to ignore me when possible, it was like I didn't even exist anymore in their eyes. I was just... there.

And I hated it. I hated her for it.

Before she died, I was the younger child and had all the attention. As selfish as it sounds, I wish I could go back to the happy family. But I'm not the only selfish one. Joanna committed suicide. And did she give a damn about everyone else, mum and dad, me?

I don't know the reason behind why she decided to take her life, and I would never know.

The angry voices broke my thoughts as I realise, I have had enough.

"SHUT UP!" my voice thundered across to them. They turn the heads to look at, their little Jane who has never raised her voice, I was the golden child. Was.

"Excu-" my mum started.

"Just SHUT the HELL UP! I can't take it anymore, get a divorce or something I DON'T CARE!" I yelled as I took my built up anger onto them because they sure as hell deserved it, and I mumbled "I'm sure Joanna would agree."

It wasn't fair, after my sister dies, my parents start fighting, get a divorce, live with my grandparents.

Our family was broken, we weren't a family and I wanted to hate Joanna for it, but to hate someone meant you wish for them to be dead, isn't that ironic.

10:26 A.M. 14th April 2016

I lay the flowers on her grave.

What was it like to be dead? Did your soul go to heaven or hell or just not exist anymore. What happens to your thoughts, or memories and I think about my dearest sister. What was she thinking when she painted, why did she paint morbid paintings.

The emotions, sadistically sorrow.

Guess we'll never know why she did what she did, the rest of us just move on and I feel a weird sensation, like I was finally free from the misery that had casted over me for the past couple of years, as I realise; it was her choice to commit suicide.

I felt like I had reached an epiphany.

Dusting my knees, I got up and left. The dry grass and deadness of the place was melancholic and it was time to leave.

Bye Joanna.