Broken Lies

The Visitor

I watched as the fiery fiend licked the papers, before turning the papers to charcoal black. The wisps of silver grey smoke curled and danced their way through the thick, hazy air. I coughed as the grey smoke entered my lungs, my eyes beginning to sting. I reached my hand into the welcoming yellow flames that flickered and danced with no thought of the oxygen they consumed. They had no appreciation of what had been given to them and no concern for what would be left after. I wish I was like the flames, they existed without a care in the world. The flame licked my finger and pain shot up my arm. Quickly, I pulled my arm away, the flames dying out. The red flesh slowly began to heal, skin growing back, the pain fading, concealing the wound like it never existed.

I really was immortal.

I could never die.

----------------------------------------

The next few days I had tried questioning the neighbours whether they had seen anything on the day of my mother's death. But I always received the same answer, 'No,' It was as if she had been killed by a ghost.

As I inserted the key and opened the door, it triggered a memory from that day. The door had been open that day, there was no sign of forced entry. My mother had known her killer. She had let them in. Someone she knew had killed her for her research.

As I entered the house, I saw a photo lay under the table. I picked up the photo, there was a younger version of my mother holding a baby, me. Beside her stood a man who had perfect cloudless sky blue eyes, just like mine. Who was he? Was he the killer? Maybe the picture fell out of the killer's pocket, but what was their connection?

--------------------------------------

The days flew by, there was nothing about the mysterious man in the picture. It was like he didn't existed.

A single knock rang filling the room, followed by another, I quickly made my way to the door before there was another knock. I opened the door, my hand gripping the cool surface of the metal handle. I twisted the handle, revealing a man. A man with perfect cloudless sky blue eyes.

'Who are you?' I managed to stammer from my parch throat. He could be the same person who brutally murdered my mother. 'I'm your father. Your mother never told you about me because I left you both when you were just born.' I stared at him, like he was a pale ghost. My father? My mother had told me he had died in a car crash not long after I was born. Had she lie to me? 'May I?' he asked as he took a step forward. I moved a side, letting the man who claimed to be my father in.

He looked around the house, 'It hasn't changed much,' he murmured to himself before resting on an antique armchair. I sat opposite him, he took off his hat, putting in on the table before brushing his chestnut hair that seemed like it had been dyed to hide the grey streaks. I watched as he saw the photo lying on the table. He reached out to grab it, 'Where'd you find this,' he asked, his voice full of cautiousness. I looked at the photo, it was the one I had found lying under the table, however if I told him that, he may suspect me. 'Oh just a photo my mother kept,' I replied as smoothly as I dared. He placed the photo back on the table after examining it for a while. 'So where's your mother?' I stared at him. Was he just pretending? Or did he not know. I exhaled deeply, 'She was murdered a month ago.' A sadness that lay deep in me stirred. I looked up to see his expression. A mixture of sadness, anger, loneliness and a tinge of regret. What did he regret though? Leaving us? Or killing her? 'Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that. She was a loving mother and woman.' His expression was now unreadable, was he just pretending? 'Is it okay if I stay the night?' he requested, his eyes full of hope. I hesitated before replying with a simple 'Fine,'