Short Story: ELEONORE

The Story

The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep.– Robert Frost

**

"Someone hold her, please! She's too sick to take all this."

I heard her shriek, growing panicky with every second that passed.

"Here ma'am, give me your hand."
A calm voice rang in my ears.

"Ma'am, please."
She begged.

She donned white clothing. Complete white. Hair tied in a clean bun, pinned with a white piece of one of those Florence Nightingale caps, formally pleated white pinafore and plain white ballerinas.

Her subtle tone made me comply as the middle aged lady in her late 30s held my hand and helped me get up. The world was spinning. I could see my whole life flashing in front of my eyes in a reverse traversal.

A drive I wish only ended on the note where my life actually surfaced for the first time on earth. I couldn't wend my way any more from here. What it was going to be, not even an iota of the word clue met my senses.With my hitched breathing, I controlled the endless tears that I could already feel brimming in my eyes as the nurse ushered me to the recliner in that massive room—a place that now looked like a slaughterhouse with every single thing scattered all around.

Flowers.
Photographs.
Coffee mugs.
Paintings.
Colors.
Candles.
And his watch.

*
"Slowly, she had surgery only two weeks ago."

My mother shrieked once again as her worried voice constantly came my way while she continued talking to the local sheriffs.With another jolt of realization hitting me, I clenched my fist, while the nurse held my other hand and finally made me sit.

".. Ma'am, please. Please control yourself. You are too weak. Your stitches are still fresh, you need to relax and not take stress."

Her words made sense but my own senses were too stubborn to fathom anything now. I could feel the bitter pain forming once again in my stomach as I touched my torso, the stitches and wounds still feeling fresh.I was ready, however, to go through that pain once again, maybe forever, with a tenfold more magnitude, if only I had the assurance that it would compensate for the pain I was feeling in my chest.

The void that I suddenly found myself enveloped in. An ambiance and turbulence I found myself ensnared in out of nowhere, where the stakes were higher, and everything that once seemed vibrant, joyous and wondrous, was now only wrier.

I shut my eyes hoping against hope that this would pass, not as a bygone but as a dream. But the mighty me could never comprehend that I was only a victim of human tendencies like anyone else—of wishful thinking.

"Its homicide ma'am"

"But there's no weapon."

"Once we find the murder weapon, we can.."

I could hear the sheriffs talking, saying something to my mother. All of which was vague, incoherent and unreservedly unavailing to me.

My affable conscience today had no ounce of emotions left, for the only person who I had reserved all of it for, was lost. Lost in the oblivion's curse, somewhere. Lost and gone so far, that my human efforts couldn't suffice in going against the fate's design.Nothing of me remained, really; From now on and forevermore.

Feelings—no zilch of it.

Empathy—No ounce of it.

Sanity—No iota of it.

Nothingness—A plethora of it.

It was something that now came in abundance, of course.

"Mr. David Saunders. Age 26. 6th Frazer Street, Manhattan."

The mention of his name hit me like a gust of a powerful wind—something that had the capability of affecting me, moving me, resurrecting me, and also killing me.A flood of tears streamed down my cheeks as someone who I longed, craved, loved, desired, cared for, lived with, now remained only as an entity, which was the new "duty" of the police officials.

"Time of death 18.30 hours. No murder weapon found. No wounds on body."

"But someone definitely broke into the house. Motives of stealing or not, I'm not sanguine sir. But the crime scene suggests it was a thief."

And once again those chains of words halted me to a point in life from where I saw no light. Miles and miles from where I stood, I felt trapped in a dungeon, with no definite end, where I couldn't run no matter how worthy my pace.

"He's not coming back"

The deepest layer of my conscience whispered in a hush tone. But the impact was so loud that I could feel every cell of my body dying, turning me into a lifeless soul.

Perhaps, "dying a thousand deaths," wasn't a shibboleth after all.Because every word against his existence dragged me to those gates of insanity from where there was no point of return.The pain didn't fade and so didn't his countenance from my mind that my sight had fondly settled for two years ago.

The ache was malignant and so were the thousands of memories which dated back to freshman year in college, to being enemies, to friends, and finally lovers, from the last two years.I don't know what pierced me more.

The fact that Dave was never going to come back? Or the now established fact that someone killed him and snatched him away from me.The idea terrorized me like nothing else.

"Oh my Sarah!"

My mother ran up to me and hugged me, while I buried my face in her bosom, my tears knowing no bounds and the ache in heart surpassing all perimeters."

Everything will be all right, sweetie. I promise. Please don't hurt yourself."She tried to pacify me. But didn't I say it before? I lost everything.

I lay callous as my mother tried beyond her abilities to console me, and cajole me to believe that this was not the end. That everything could once again be good.

I wish she knew I surpassed the age of bedtime stories and hunky dory endings.

"Sweetheart, I'm going with the sheriff to his office. They need more information to start with the right investigation." She said.
Her tone reflected her sorry feelings, perhaps looking at my indifferent reception for every word that came my way. Maybe she understood it like no one else. Losing dad in a plane crash when I was only two wasn't as easy on her as it was on me for my lack of human comprehension about destiny and life that time.

She lived through the harsh times and brought me up.But two days ahead of my engagement day and my fiancé is murdered with no trace of reason—this was harsher on me than her, and she knew it.

"Marice will stay with you," she said pointing towards the nurse who stood just next to her.

"I will be back in an hour, sweetie. Please, please, I beg you. Please control yourself."

My mother urged to me.I sat in silence as I saw the retreating backs of the officials along with my mother leave the mansion while the tall French doors remained open, letting the cold breezes in. I shivered as they touched my skin, while my mind shivered at the thought of all the conjectures I had reached in the past few minutes about my life, and everything else.

My stomach ached as I touched the thick layer of bandage that had stayed there for over two weeks now. I could feel the blood pumping in my veins and the stitches hurting bad from all the tension that I witnessed in less than 12 hours, both physically and mentally.My wounds suggested I was alive. There was life in me.While everything around me suggested, I had died long ago.

"Water"

I uttered softly, my voice barely audible to me.

"Yes ma'am, just a moment." The nurse replied politely as she rushed towards the kitchen to bring me some water to drink. The deafening silence reflected the abominable lull that now clouded this house, the same place which once used to be full of laughter, silly fights, iffy arguments, sweet nothings—and so much more.

**

"Mrs. Sarah Saunders"

"See? Sounds better!"

"No way! I'll rather remain Sarah Reeve than have that weird last name!"

"Oh yeah?"

"See you already have the hots for me, so you can drop the fake anger, Sarah!"

"Fake anger? Na-uh"

"I can't believe I'm going to marry such a brat who forgot his girlfriend's 25th birthday."

"But the same brat apologized, like a 100 times, got you flowers, your favorite Gucci dress, concert tickets for your favorite singer, and... well, a pool of never ending love from himself."

"Cut it short, Dave. Bragger, bragger, go and waver!"

"Okay, enough. I know how to make it up to you."

"Where? In the land of Narnia?"

"Whatever missy"

..And he scooped me in his arms as he shut the bedroom door with one kick, throwing me in the bed.

"You!!"

"You cannot get away with everything, alway-""Mmmmmm..."

Our lips were sealed.Just like our hearts.

Every single thing was a part of our lives together, everything except giving up on each other.

"I love you, little Miss. Sarah Reev-"

I shushed him as I placed a finger on his lips while his sight met mine, puzzled.

"Mrs. Sarah Saunders."