Chapter 5 | Mourner and the Mourned"What's in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet."- Juliet from Romeo & Juliet
**Tune in to "Helium" by Sia**
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I didn't expect a response and there wasn't one. The clock reads 9:43 p.m. I am exhausted and the ideas running by my mind do not help the fatigue that quickly starts taking over.
I pull the sheets up to the neck, trying to find comfort in the warmth that fills the space around me.
I dream of Mr Levington lying on the wooden floorboards of his house, cold and very much lifeless. But I don't see blood. No gashes on his body, that an onlooker can see.
I wake up with the alarm ringing away to glory -- why am I waking up to an alarm set at 6:30 a.m.?
I run downstairs for water. Reaching over the kitchen counter, I grip the handle of the water tumbler, pour it into a glass and sip.
It feels nice. The cold water soothes the parched throat. It hits my stomach, making me feel like as if I'm rubbing it's interior with ice.
I look out the kitchen window that directly shows us the hall. I see dad watching the news.
I set the glass on the window sill, making a soft thud like noise to which my father turns his head around. He acknowledges my presence by a "hey!"
"Your up!" He smiles as he walks up to me, until we are face to face, his hand on my shoulders, keeping me at arms length.
"I know he meant a lot to you. But everything happens for the best." He says like as if he knows I am still troubled by the heart wrenching event.
I manage to let out two words- "I know" as I gently push his hands off my shoulder.
"Your mom's still asleep. She got a slight fever yesterday. I mean she was literally worried sick." He says with a grin.
"Well that's new," I say sarcastically as I open the door to the fridge. I pick out a packet of cheese slices and the bottle of milk and shut the door behind me.
I turn around to see my dad who has already made himself comfortable, seated at the kitchen table with crossed arms and a massive smile on his face.
"I'm eating whatever you are," He teases, "I'm serious."
"On a regular day, those would normally be my lines, but okay." I speak, bored and disinterested to converse.
His features distort at once as he bends over the table and reaches for my wrist. "Hey look at me, hey - today is a regular day."
Grief strikes my heart as soon as my brain processes the hefty meaning of those words.
"How did he pass?" I chirp, as I close my eyes, tears already streaming down my cheek.
"Stabbed." He leans back in to the upholstery of the seat, "He came back home after the play and Val went out for groceries, when she was back within 10 minutes, he was gone due to loss of blood." He responds with a low voice.
"He did mean a lot to me," I wail, as I set the things I picked out of the refrigerator on the table and wipe my face with the hem of my shirt.
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