It was slowly becoming apart of Elena Piers. It hid within her sanity. It clawed through her normalities. It chased her existence into lies. It trailed her, hushed at night, melting into the darkness only dancing in the flickering light. It was an e...
"Why are you suddenly so quiet?" She asked, an undertone of friendly curiosity in her voice. "I'm not a monster, love."
A whisper of a chill ran down Elena's spine.
You're not but I am.
"Don't know," she mumbled into her hand. Wear that lie you're so used to wearing, she told herself. If you don't they'll catch on. You do everything a little bit wrong and soon enough they'll realise. They'll catch on.
A moment passed. "What's your name?"
"Elena," she muttered, her voice so dry it was hardly a sigh.
"What was that?"
"El- Aleena," Elena choked. "Aleena. What's yours?"
She wasn't sure why she'd said a different name. Perhaps it was because every time she heard her name it sounded lost and damaged but somehow her clumsy, made-up name sounded sweet and gentle. To her Elena was a monster, a murderer's name and it reminded her undoubtedly of Fake-Elena.
In the dark, she gave a half smile at her new, awkward name. I'm Aleena to strangers now. Wait...was Frank's mum's name Aleena. A smudged memory scratched dauntingly against her skull, but Elena chose not to venture further, Just the thought of Frank made her cry.
"Roslyn Stone or Rose, whatever one," she replied.
A vague sense of familiarity washed over Elena. In that fleeting moment of familiarity, something clicked deep within in her mind; something she could not grasp.
"It's just dejavu," she muttered underneath her breath. "Hang on."
A single, bleak thought rose from the depths of her mind. Glancing back at the newspaper article, Elena only managed to grasp half of the words underneath the flickering light, but it was undeniably there. However, something else odd was found at the crime scene: a detailed, accurate sketch of the victim before her murder, she read.
She didn't draw a picture of Violet. Was it possible that it was a different crime? Sudden hope flushed visibly on her face. Turning the page over, she studied the sketch of the girl. To her absolute terror and realisation, she remembered drawing it. She drew it before her murder, before they met. She drew the girl in the car the night they had arrived, the night Frank’s mother died. That was only yesterday but somehow it felt much, much longer as it slowly unraveled itself before her.
How did I do that? That's insane! That's way too much of a coincidence! No!
Pressing against the memory of the murder, she recalled their conversation. Every word hung in her mind, soulless, wordless but not forgotten.
Violet Stone or Vi. Whatever one.
Violet Stone, Roseline Stone who both have Scottish accents. No! That's way too much of a coincidence. What if I'm talking to the mother of the girl I just murderer? The mother who still has no idea.Â
The panic started out as thin as, something her rough, warped breaths could pierce. In another minute the panic was a deluge of ice water surrounding every limb, creeping higher as her mind focused on the single, desolate thought. She could be talking to her victim's mother.
"Why....what- where are you going?" She stuttered, her lips hardly moving.
"Trying to distract yourself from your fear of trains? Good on you," she smiled through the darkness as if she was genuinely proud of Elena. "Well Aleena, my daughter's a bit of a nutcase. She likes to runaway a lot and does terrible things, drinks and the lot,†she paused, crinkling her nose as if the very thought was sour and bitter tasting, so I'm arranging therapy sessions as a last resort."
"Do they work?" Asked Elena with a distracted tone. Through the tumbling black, she struggled to make out the resemblance between the Violet she'd met and Roslyn. Then again, she'd also seen Violet in the half dark, underneath shadows which quite literally seemed to emerge from her.
Something snickered in the back of her mind, faint like the rustling of leaves. If you're dark enough everything around becomes dark. She shivered. It's true.
"Can't say they do," she shook her head. "It's just a bunch of loony and a reason for strangers to get their noses in other people's business. And don't worry, I'm not talking about you, dear."
"So why do it?"
"I've run out of ideas. Plan a, b and c have failed and pretty much most the alphabet. I feel like I'm giving up, thought and now that truly scares me," Roslyn said in a half, clipped whisper. As an afterthought, she added, "it's funny how we can tell strangers anything and everything and knowing full well we can trust them more then the people we hold close."
If you knew my secrets you wouldn't say that.
"I'm sorry to hear," said Elena, sounding not a single bit sorrowful but instead flat and empty. "What's her name?"
"Violet. Violet Stone but I just call her Vi."
I know this is a short chapter but I split it wrong. Do you guys prefer the chapters in parts or it too long?
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