World Eater

43

THE HOUSE WAS QUIET. Sariel had grown used to the silence. It was an unsettling silence, the kind that came when something was missing. No radio or television could drown out that kind of silence. It was a constant presence on Sariel’s shoulders, making his head fuzzy and steps clumsy.

For the fourth time that evening, Sariel stumbled past the stairwell. He had tried to all but forget about the second floor. There was a certain stillness that hung in the shadows of the staircase, an eerie vacantness that made Sariel’s stomach churn. The absence of bare feet on wooden stairs was unbearable.

He stood at the threshold, swallowing to ease his dry throat. He couldn't just avoid one half of his house the rest of his life.  

Besides, he had to clean out his room eventually.

Sariel crept slowly up the stairs, a layer of dust slipping under his feet. The lights in the hallways were still on- Alzar never liked to be in the dark. It was like nothing had happened.

Alzar’s bedroom was trapped in the past, stagnated since the night of prom. In the corner of the room, his trashcan overflowed with used tissues and empty water bottles because Alzar always put off cleaning his room.

Sariel slipped into a routine he hadn't practiced for over a week. He crouched down, grabbing one of Alzar’s shirts and folding it into a bundle.

Sariel’s eyes were dull as he stacked Alzar’s clothes on his bed, shirts and pants he would never wear again. He stepped back, nearly slipping.

Sariel’s eyes cut down, spotting Alzar’s backpack. A sheet of notebook paper spilled out, messy handwriting spelling out Trigonometry notes and a poster for prom.

The sight was like a knife in his chest,  a reminder that Alzar wasn't coming back. Sariel covered his mouth, a miserable cry bubbling to the surface. He found himself laying on Alzar’s bed, sobbing into his pillow.

He couldn't pinpoint the exact moment he fell asleep.