UNSEEN

SEVEN

The ceiling in the room is yellow, while the other four walls are white washed to such an extent, it hurts my eyes. The place stinks of death and nobody seems to be bothered by it, me included. I've been around the smell enough to know it never leaves. Ever.

The T.V is on the other side of the room. It's on mute and it's tiny, so there's no way for me to entertain myself. I look at the man on the bed next to mine. His eyes are too cloudy and dark for someone who's alive, but just bright enough to let me know he's not dead. I've seen dead and dying people before, but this is different. It's almost like he's waiting for death. I wonder if I look like that, too. Because, without a doubt, I feel that way.

The nurse escorts my mother inside. Evan isn't with her. I wonder if what I saw right before I passed out meant something. But then, if everything I saw meant something, then the world is way too fucked up.

She pulls a chair next to my bed.

"Did you get that bag I wanted?" I ask. She pulls up my turquoise slingy and puts it on the foot of the bed. I had asked her to get it because Liv's journal is in it, and I felt a desperate need to read it. She doesn't look mad anymore. She looks overwrought, and something tells me it's not entirely because of my stabbed leg. She looks like that all the time these days. Worried and simply worried. And that's what leaves me with one question. Does she have a reason to be?

"I saw something. It was weird. I was in the woods behind the school and I ....."

"Oh, sweetie, why did you go there?"

Sometimes, I feel she interrupts me on purpose, like she doesn't want me to finish my sentences, worrying I'll say something she won't like.

"Is there something you want to tell me, mom? Because you sure as hell don't want to listen to anything I say."

She sighs. "It's not like that, hon. Please, tell me."

"What happened that night?"

"You know I don't know, Reece."

"Do I?" I look at her with all the suspicion I can bring to my face with all the drugs and depression.

She looks at me in disgust. "You think I killed your sister?"

Words form and I spit them out. There's no way to hold them back, and I know I'll hate myself forever.

"It won't be your first time."

The colour on her face is gone but the repulsion isn't.

I remember it like it was yesterday. I pushed the door open, he was on the floor, there was blood pouring out of his head, our expensive vase was on the floor, broken. My mother pulled me inside, kissing me.

"Reece, we'll never say a word about this. Okay?"

I saw that she had a black eye. It wasn't the first time, he did that to her all the time. That night, she put an end to it, though. I hugged her and swore never to question her. That was her last black eye.

Pain. Pain is all I see in her eyes. I want to tell her I didn't mean it but the words refuse to come out now. No sound comes out of my mouth.

She sighs, gets up and say "Walk home." And she leaves.

Now that I'm alone again, I think about how much I've messed up in the past few days and conclude that it won't be long before everyone agrees that I'm demented and I get sent away for treatment without figuring out who did this to Liv and to me. I know I'm not crazy, but either I buy time to prove it, or find the killer fast. At this point, both of these seem impossible.

I pull out Liv's diary and hope to find something nifty. Or maybe I just want to read what she wrote to remind myself what I'm looking for, because, honestly, I don't even know anymore.

19th June, 2012

I'm over at Hailey's. I had to get out of the house. Mom read Evan's mail and found that his co-worker, Sara, was hitting on him. He told her that He'd already  told Sara to stay away. She didn't believe him and, to be frank, nobody would. Sara looks like a Victoria's Secret model. I know because Reece searched her up online for fun.

So now, there's screaming and shouting. Our neighbours called to see if we were okay. Reece wasn't home, she never is. She's still out, probably smoking pot with friends, if she has any. She never stays through the bad times, so I wasn't expecting much from her this time, either. But from Andrew, I did. He's dealing with his parent's divorce and goes to therapy. I haven't seen him in three days. He barely ever picks up when I call. He has a lot going on, but somehow, I assumed he'd be there when I needed him.

All I know is I need the only two people I care about and neither of them are here.

She was right, though. I was never there when she needed me and now that she's gone, I need her. I feel something behind my eyes. Tears? No. Haven't had those in ages.

I pop one of my pills, pack my stuff and get up to leave when the door is pushed open and Andrew appears. He's looking at me, I don't think there's anyone else he's here for.

There's nowhere to go now. Maybe, it is for the good. I could get some answers. Or I could slit his throat. Either ways, I'll get my much needed adrenaline rush.