Candles

45 | L O S T

BY THE TIME I GOT home, it was late. Shutting the door behind me, I locked it and squinted my eyes as I looked around the apartment. All of the lights were off but I knew Olivia was home because her car was in the parking lot. I was able to detect a faint smell of burnt popcorn and my assumption about her being home was correct.

I felt extremely guilty for making her think I left her behind. Of course, I had planned on coming back home with her but my plans had changed right before my eyes. I made a mental note not to tell her anything about what happened tonight. The less she knew, the better. I was only trying to keep her safe and if she knew too much, she would pay for it.

"Olivia?" I called out, reaching out for the light switch. Tripping and falling was not in my best interest at the moment. The smell of popcorn was still fresh enough to let me know it had been popped not too long ago. How long had I been gone? My fingers brushed against the light switch and the living room burst to life. To my surprise, it was empty although I expected to find her passed out on the sofa.

Instead, I found her in the kitchen with a bottle of water and a fashion magazine. Her back was facing me and she flipped through the pages of her magazine, making side comments about how none of their outfits matched and how she could have been a model if all she had to be was tacky. She had changed out of her clothes from earlier, now wearing jogging pants and a shirt that came down to her knees. I assumed it belonged to Billy.

I just stood there, paralyzed, unable to make a sound. Olivia laughed a mirthless laugh and flipped another page of the magazine. An empty bowl sat beside the magazine on the counter and I wondered if that was where she had the popcorn after popping it. She scratched the back of her head and took a sip of her water before turning around.

At the sight of me, she shrieked, dropping the bottle and allowing the water to spill everywhere. She did not bother to pick it up, as her main focus was on me at the moment. I was slightly confused when she hurried across the room and grabbed my shoulders, shaking me slightly.

"Sydney?" her voice was full of worry and concern. "Sydney, what happened to you?" My lips parted but she did not give me much time to answer. "Oh, God. You're hurt!" Her hands moved from my shoulders to my wrists and she pulled me away from the kitchen to the bathroom. Once she turned on the light, the person standing beside her in the mirror was not me at all.

My orange hair was stained with blood—my blood—and my left eye was slightly swollen and bruised. Scratches covered my chest and my bottom lip had split sometime during the fight. By the awkward angle of my nose, it was quite obvious it was broken. I was in too much pain to notice the real damage done to me. I convinced myself I had walked away with a few scratches when in reality, I had walked away with more wounds than I had ever expected.

Olivia forced me to sit down on the toilet and she grabbed one of her good washcloths from the closet, wetting it with warm water and applying it to my bloody face. Although she looked completely calm, I knew she was terrified. She had no idea what happened to me and it must have been eating her alive not knowing the truth. The white cloth soon enough turned red and I closed my eyes, no longer interested in watching Olivia clean my wounds.

"Who did this to you?" she demanded, her voice calm but bitter.

I kept my eyes closed and my shoulders stiffened at her words. As much as she wanted to know who did this to me, I wanted nothing more than to forget. I wanted to climb into bed and close my eyes, hoping to wake up without a single memory of what happened tonight. Slowly, I opened my eyes to look at her and her bottom lip was tugged between her teeth with concentration. She rinsed the blood out of the cloth and squeezed out the excess water before applying it to my face.