Ghost flames flash before my eyes. Haunting memories of a tragedy that occurred not so long ago. Memories that invade my every thought, my every panicky breath pained by what it left behind. The scar running down my ribcage will heal. Other’s will not.
The sky is dark and strangely peaceful, like it’s mocking my paranoid mind. The beating of my heart sounds like a loud hammer pounding on metal to my ears. I take a deep breath, letting air inflate my lungs before grasping the cool brass doorknob in my shaking hand. I can see my reflection in the door’s window. I look like a broken child, eyes swimming in wild fear. That can’t be me
. I breathe out slowly, attempting to calm my racing thoughts. Trying to will my heart back to a steady beat. I squeeze my eyes shut, collecting every inch of bravery in me and then twist the knob, opening the door with a click.
I immediately feel the cold seep into the house, even though I’ve only cracked the door open. The winter weather seems to wrap around me in freezing tendrils, invading my blood and sending a harsh shiver down my spine.
I can’t stay here all day, debating with myself whether I should go or not. Without giving another thought, I shove the door open, throwing myself outside. I walk out onto the steps, hugging myself, and then proceed to button my dusty pea coat up all the way to my neck.
The wind bites at my ears and causes my eyes to sting. My nose and fingers start to feel icy and numb. I lock the door carefully and pull on it just to check. My breath forms small clouds of fog as I cautiously make my way down the concrete steps, slick with ice, catching myself on the rusted metal railing as I lose my balance.
When I reach the safety of the sidewalk I squint into the darkness until, thankfully, a street lamp flickers on, illuminating my path. Looking down the street, it seems to belong to any other neighborhood. A thin layer of snow covers the asphalt road, trees are planted at neat intervals, and a cracked sidewalk lines the rows of similar brick houses. Then you start to notice small little out of the ordinary details. Almost all the doors have two or more locks, windows are boarded shut, and curtains are pulled closed. Everything is deathly quiet, not even the sound of crickets chirping or birds calling can be heard. There are no cars and the street is completely deserted.
I walk into the middle of the road, my boots leaving footprints as I step on fresh patches of fallen snow that had been previously untouched. I stand in the street, facing forward, looking down the long winding path. All of it seems to lead into a vast, black, empty space. The trees bow down from the heavy weight of the snow on the branches, like they’re trying to kiss the ground. It creates a beautiful tunnel-like effect. I can see the stars and the full moon shining radiantly and I admire the intense contrast between them and the inky sky. I long to reach out and touch those stars. I want to stand on the moon, look down, and see the world churning below me.
I slide my hand into the pocket of my black tattered jeans and wrap my fingers around the smooth glass beads of my necklace. It calms me as I begin my walk. It makes me strong.
I’ve memorized the way to my destination and I walk it in my dreams, though, I’ve never made it alone. I keep looking to my right, expecting to see him there. My ears strain to hear the sound of his footsteps intertwining with the sound of mine, though it is not present. Damien, my older brother, is in the government circle at the moment. I’m sure of it. He would never leave us, never leave me.
I continue down the road, softly treading on the powdery snow, straining to keep my mind from wandering. Each time I approach another streetlight, it lazily flickers on, sensing my presence. Every time I pass one, it shudders off. They work this way in order to conserve precious energy.
