FLESH covered LIES

The Touch of Death

The air was quiet and still, as if some divine being had stopped time altogether, just to savour this moment again and again.

My thin nightdress clung to me, yet still managed to leave me exposed to the chilly atmosphere that surrounded the garden, which looked like an undiscovered realm of mystery and magic in the dim light. If I faced away from the house, as I was now, I could just about convince myself that the gardener's hut was just a wild hut that I had stumbled on in the woods on my adventures. 

Of course, I wanted nothing more than to head back upstairs and return to my warm and safe bed where I belonged, but I was sure I had heard something. At this point, I had no clue what it was that had awoken me, but it had sounded like a rancid screech, as if some savage animal was being torn from its own skin. 

As I entered the small hut, I knew instantly that something was terribly, horrifically wrong. The smell of fresh blood drifted towards me, its metallic scent taunting me to walk on further inside. 

And that was when it hit me like a slap to the face. Pinned to the wall, like a crucifixion was the tortured victim I had heard the cries of. Blood covered his face, like a scene from a mass murder. And although I hadn't even been here when the murder took place, I felt as if I was the bystander who had watched this terrible event unfold. He was put there like a display, a warning, a threat to all around. Someone had played with death, and Jonathan's cat was the poor being that had been selected, Sherlock the cat was the victim. 

I wish I could describe to you that event in more detail. But I can only recall my less dominant senses, the moans I could hear myself making, that gruesome scent of death as a constant reminder of the life that was lost. I cannot recite to you what I could see, because it was my vision that went blurry as I began to waver, it was what I could see that I can no longer play back, because that's what stopped displaying the event as I stumbled, and my head hit the ground.

I had been right about this place, I had been right all along, since I took my first step into the front door. This house was here to beat and hit me until I had nothing left, and it had just delivered its first blow. 

PART TWO

"And that's all you remember?" 
The voices were filling my head like sand, blocking up my mind, and causing me to recall the event even less. 
"Yes. It was Sherlock. That's all I remember"
Around 3 hours had passed since my incident in the shed, and already the evidence was gone. My mother had found me, after realising the back door was open, and coming outside to find me. I had been lying on the floor, blood on my head in the gardener's shed. Sherlock's body wasn't there. Most people in the room probably didn't believe a word I was saying.
"And you're sure you weren't dreaming?" My mother asked frowning and handing me a mug of tea. "Darling, it's common to have nightmares after moving or any large and stressful event, perhaps you were sleepwalking?"
I was sick of arguing. I knew what I saw, and it was unlikely that they: Jonathan, my parents and Harissa could ever trust in that, so why should I bother. 
"Perhaps. Maybe it was all just a bad dream."
I spotted Harissa frowning, it seemed she was the only one in the room who could sense that I was lying about considering it was all my imagination. 
I smiled awkwardly at her. I was still pretty traumatised about the whole thing, and it made it better to know that there was someone there who actually believed my story. 

Jonathan's face was distant and depressed. Whether he believed I had seen Sherlock's dead body or not, having not seen him for a few days, it must have crossed his mind that there could be some truth in what I was saying. Before long he would crack under the pressure, and the loss of a loved one would truly and outwardly hit him.

Before long, almost everyone left me in the library with a blanket over my knees and a mug of lukewarm tea. It was just me and Harissa. She came and sat opposite me on the window seat, and looked at me with a sincerity I had never seen her show before. 
"Gerda. Did you really see what you said you saw?"
I raised my head, tears in my eyes.
 "Yes. I saw it."
She sighed and brought her legs up under her into a cross legged position. Her short hair flopped over one of those brilliant green eyes she was lucky enough to have.
"Then we are going to have to do something about it. This has something to do with your bald man Gerda, there's an obvious link, we need to....." She trailed off. "What? Why are you.... smiling?"
And it was true. I was smirking at her, a huge grin on my face. I even let out a short chuckle. My emotions were mixed, I had a bittersweet taste on my tongue.
"You believe me. You actually believe me."
She shook her head in disbelief, and unexpectedly reached out and took my hands in hers.
"Of course I do Gerda. I can't let you deal with this alone."
There was this moment, where we were just sitting there, hands touching together, in a comfortable silence. And then of course; Tyler.

He came rushing in as he always did. He had slept through the whole thing. 

"Where's Mummy?" 
I drew my hands quickly away from Harissa's and said with haste, "Downstairs Tyler, go find her."
He left with the same speed that he had arrived. That comfortable silence was gone, I was blushing awkwardly, and now it was more like a hot embarrassed quiet. 
"Oh God. Gerda I'm sorry, I need to go check on Jonathan, this must have hit him pretty hard."
"Of course." I answered, and I was left alone once again.

It used to be my favourite feeling in the world; being alone. But now it just gave me the uncomfortable thought of being watched, and every inch of safety seemed to have been drawn from my life.