Since He Left ✓

17: White Lips, Pale Face

Chapter title inspired from Ed Sheeran's 'The A Team'

****

The walk home from school wasn't that long, quite short actually. The warm weather was somehow soothing, the light air winded through my hair. The streets were surprisingly empty, free of people. I liked brightness, it had always been that way. On the other hand, darkness wasn't my cup of tea. Sometimes it was frightening, in the middle of the night nobody around. I had felt safe there for forever, nothing really scared me but the dark.

 It was like when I was tucked in bed, as a child, my blanket had always been my safe haven. It felt as if nothing evil could reach me, not even in the dark when the doors were closed and the lights were off. Sometimes, I believed that there was an evil witch hiding above my closet. As long as I didn't leave my bed I was safer than ever, those were the most comforting moments. That was a comforting thought that would have helped me deal for what was coming next.

****

My phone buzzes, I pick it up from my pocket. Unknown Number is displayed on the screen, I wearily answer. "Hello?" There was no one on the other end, I only heard a deep wind sound.

"Isla? Isla, it's me," a hushed voice whispers. My stomach drops. Goosebumps rise on my body. Tears threaten to fall. It's impossible. It can't be. It's a voice I can recognize from an ocean's length, from two towers, from a raspy phone conversation.

"Gr—Grayson? Is it you?" My hand, holding the phone, feels numb.

"Yes. Isla, it's me. Grayson." The whole world feels like it's spinning, my mind seems to be shrinking. Suddenly I think I'm claustrophobic, shocked to be conscious in my small head. Breath rushes out of me, a breath I wasn't aware of holding inside. For some odd reason an image of roses expands into view, roses being stepped on rather harshly. I didn't know what it meant, I didn't want to. All I desired was to hear my brother's voice once again, as realization of what was happening sinked in. For the first time in what felt like forever, I was speaking to my long lost brother. A stream of thoughts washing ashore in my mind.

What was happening?

"Grayson! Wh-where are you? What, what, who, when—" I was stuttering uncontrollably, forced words were coming out with a cluster.

Is this a hoax, is this some stupid kid trying to fool me?

"Look, Isla. I'm fine, okay? I really am, I just had to tell you that. I know you've been looking for me, Sabrina told me." Sabrina. Sabrina the girl in Marseille, she had lied to us. Acting all innocent, I feel like ripping her face off. "Please, don't look for me. Vitam post mortem. Goodbye, Isles." His last words seemed to stutter, his breath hitching. My heart seemed like a rocket in my chest, about to take off, creating a hole in the midst of pure flesh and bone. I recognized the latin words 'vitam post mortem', 'life after death'. He must have said it for a reason, a reason that I knew nothing of.

 The phrase was one we had used, as children, when a particular unfortunate event had occurred. Our grandma had passed away, Maman had wept for days on end. At the funeral, I whispered the latin words to him, he asked what it meant and I explained. "After something bad happens there's always going to be something good, everything happens for a reason, Grayson," I reassured. "There's always a spark at the end of the tunnel, but to see that spark you need patience and acceptance. Always remember that." Hugging him, I felt like a true big sister. I was there for a purpose.