OBLIVIOUS

[bUrnįng L0V3]

The small blue, bloodstained, velvet covered room we were in seemed to merge into the playing fields across from my childhood home. It was summer, and Sofia was laying in my lap still. This time staring up into my eyes smiling. I could smell the pollen and see the hundreds of thousands of yellow flowers in the distance and the birds were chirping happily. Sofia was wearing this loose, bell sleeved yellow dress, which went down to just above her knees. He feet were bare, but they were warm, the sun was bouncing off of her golden skin peacefully.

There was also a large picnic blanket and a couple of glasses of red wine set out, with half of a French stick in the middle of it. Sofia stopped staring at me, sat up, and reached for her glass. Her demeanour was calm and collected, and she spoke in a soft voice to me.
"Where do you see us in 5 years Emma?"
I couldn't speak, but she answered for me. My exact thoughts.
"I think we'll be settled down with a kid. A little boy I hope. Oscar his name will be. And Picasso will be getting older but we'll buy him a huge cat mansion and make sure he lives the best life he can." She smiled slightly. "You know I love you so much, don't you darling?"

This seemed to trigger a reaction in the world, and it turned dark and black, and there was a stench of death. That's the only way I can describe it. Sofia lied back down in my lap, but as she dropped into it, her head became like a huge boulder, crashing down on my thighs, causing me to grit my teeth, and go numb almost instantly. Her head turned back so she was staring at me, but this time her expression was in pain, and I saw her skin turn a grey-like colour. Right before my eyes. Then the skin around her eyes looked purple, as though it was bruising and the veins were prominent. I shouted out in disgust and tried to push her away but I couldn't. And then I woke up.

"Fuck!!" I screamed. The blood had started to thicken and dry up, and it was soaked into my sleeves and legs, coagulating like treacle. I felt like I was going to be sick but before I could even gag, I began to shake again, and I realised just what had happened. She was gone. There was nothing I could do about it. But I HAD to call the police. Quickly. I frantically scrambled through my pockets but I couldn't find my phone. Sofia's clutch bag was about 6 feet away from me, so I stretched to get it, wincing out in pain. She was a full dead weight on me now, like my legs were stuck under a building or something. It was so painful, silent tears began to stream out of my eyes, then I finally grabbed it. I took her phone out of it, and when I turned it on, there was a message on her lock screen.
"I finally got her."
This set my gag reflex off, and I was sick in my mouth. What kind of fucking creep would do this? I didn't even know someone was looking for her. I guess I was just oblivious...

My fingers shook violently but I managed to dial 999.
"Hello, what's your emergency?" I choked back the sick.
"I don't know where I am, there's so much blood and I can't understand who would do this to her." My tears were flooding out again.
"What is your name miss? Can you recall the events of the night?" Each time the calm voice spoke it put me in even more hysterics.
"There-I'm-Emma Waters-we're in Manchester... the outskirts of central Manchester." I was sobbing like a child who had just lost their family pet. It felt as though there was no air in my lungs anymore, and my entire body ached, and a sharp pain was sent up my legs if I tried to move.
"Can you describe the place you're in to me?"
"It's... blue. Like-blue velvet. There's so much fucking blood. There is a large bed with... like a... lip print on. And the sofa-" I choked back a cough. "It has black and white zebra print on."
"Okay, we're sending someone there now. Please stay calm miss."
I just sat there crying.

The next thing I remember is being at the police station. I had finally sobered up, though my clothes were still soaked. My head was thumping and I had been wrapped in a metallic hospital blanket. Someone led me to a little room with a stark white light, and I winced as I sat down, glaring at the dull desk as though it had killed Sofia. I didn't want to make eye contact with anyone. I felt isolated and alone and my world had crashed around me. It was scary to close my eyes, because I had that image printed in the back of my skull-of her, stripped bare, covered in her own blood. The thought alone was vomit inducing, and I didn't particularly want to throw up again, especially not in the spotless interrogation room I was in. Besides I was feeling queasy anyways from the aftermath of the drugs we took, and the binge drinking. It must have been around 4am now, and I was just sat alone, in the rather uncomfortable chair, dwelling in sadness. I couldn't even mourn as my brain still had to function, and I needed my cat. It's such an overwhelming feeling of sadness to lose the person you love the most, and considering my parents don't want to talk to me either, I have no one apart from Picasso.