Being alone is not the most terrible thing of all.
But what is, most terrible, and most frightening is when you are left only with nothing but four walls. This is when your inner self starts to potray itself, relishing the evils and horrors of one self, engulfing the purity in jealously, ignorant to the outer world. This is where, seclusion seeps in.
I looked outside the tinted window-pane - fine, parrallel lines that guarded the glass within its sight ever so carefully; and watched as the snow flakes gently fell onto the barren, deserted land, covering it with layers and layers of innocence and purity.
The landscape reminded me of Life. Where lies, secrets, betrayals and wrongdoings can be covered up when the snow falls, where cover-ups actually exist, and everything in the past could be erased from memory, or at least, a brain-washing illusion to deceive oneself.
"Where are you going?"
There was no answer.
He pulled on his clothes and grabbed the jacket on the back of the chair. He was solemn, had a straight face. Blake received a call 30mins ago, and he didn't said anything. It just went like: "Yes, yep, I'll be there." And the call ended. Then after he did not speak. Not even a word. Reclunctantly, I took out a 'bug' from my bag and placed it into a dome-shaped keychain that was attached to his car keys. "Here you go, " I passed him his car keys which lied an inch away from me. He looked into my eyes. "Thanks." I was pretending not to know. I did knew. I'd always know. He thought I didn't but I did. How ironic. Acting as per normal, I smiled and gave him a peck on the cheek, like how I would everytime he went out.
An hour later, I switched on the GPS and started to get ready. Slapping some lotion from the half-empty Crabtree & Evelyn Rosewater bottle on the side of the bed, I pulled on a tank-top, a wool creme sweater and a pair of white-washed Levi's. Grabbing the keys on the glass bowl near the entrance of my apartment, I reached forward to open the door.
I stopped. My fingertips were still on the cold handle. Do I want this? I could have waited. Waited more. Perhaps, never know what would happen. Should I? Should I give him a chance? Give us a chance? I swallowed. I loosened the grip on the doorknob.
I took a sip of the cold coffee. It tasted bitter, and perhaps a little sour. I took a glance at my watch.
5.28am.
Tuesday.
The same day, the same time when he died. I tried to stop her. But she did not listen. My sister. She pulled the trigger on him. We were twins, I was the prettier, innocent-looking sister while she was the dark, isolated and the unwanted, all three in one. The attention was always on me, parents, friends, schoolmates, boys, everything. While she had to always suck it up and stay low-profile. I bent down under my bed, and reached deep in for the parcel-box. I opened the box and its contents flowed out. But what attracted my attention most was that silvery metal which contained only memories of me and my sister. The only memory. After that heart-wrecking incident, I tried contacting her but to no avail. I picked up the photo frame. In the frame lied a girl with raven hair and a healthy tan. I frowned. The picture was torn. Who tore it? Where was my sister?
I continued driving on the motor scooter, trying to focus, to swerve away from the flashing headlights in the opposite lane. Ridgeburgh Avenue 18, #07-459. I continue to track Blake on the GPS system. Left turn, left again, straight ahead, and right. I braced myself for what would happen. Would he just so happen to be a spy? From the United Cooperates(UC)? The organisation our A-team was so desperate to eliminate? I tugged on my jeans, where I had my shotgun clinging to the back of my jeans, just at my belt where it was hidden, covered by the long sweater. I approached the unit slowly but steadily. I was greeted with a rundown building. Breathing heavily into the musky air, I took out the gun, with it pointing down; raced up the stairs to the 7th floor. Suddenly, a bang was sounded. It pierced through the thin air. I gulped.
"Blake, where are you.." I whispered, shivering slightly at the thought of his non-existance, if I was ever to live without him.. I couldn't.. I couldn't take a glimpse of such a future.
"Blake!" I shouted as I pushed through the creaking doors of that unit and dashed in.
I screamed, and screamed, and screamed.
I would never forget that split moment, that split second. That split image of myself - my sister. Damiene, with her gun in hand, her back facing me.Blake was on the floor in the next room, covered in warm oozing blood from the wound, three inches down his heart. "Damiene! STOP!" . She turned around and rushed forward. I plunged forward at her, and we both fell onto the floor,our guns dropped; engaging in violent, vast kicks and punches." He's from the UC! He's from the bloody UC!" She shouted in between breaths. Our breaths was reduced to short, increasing intakes of air as we continued to lunge at eeach other. "But he's my-"
"I don't care!" Damiene shrieked as she attempted to reach for her gun within reach. I reached to get mine. She was too fast. I felt something cold on the back of my head.
"Don't."
I gasped.
"Don't..move." The two words pierced into the tense atmosphere. I could hear Blake, somewhere in the near distance, moaning in pain.
"You, you don't have to do this. Let's end this. Don't you find the killing meaningless?" I asked as I reached into my sweater.
"We do what we're taught to do. And, its to kill him," she pointed at him. "He's the mastermind of it all, the kiling of our mom. Don't you feel anything at all? Anything?? She's our mom!" She exclaimed. I felt my fingetips on that weapon, the only hope I could cling onto now.
I paused as I tightened my grip on my Swiss-knife at the side of my tanktop." No," I spoke coldly." She was never my mom. My mom died when we were seven."
I flagged a taxi as soon as I got down my apartment. "Ridgeburgh Avenue 18 please." I instructed the driver, and the car started moving. I clutched the photo in hand and looked outside.
"Enough talking." Damiene stated. She paced towards Blake, footsteps further away from me, tredding onto the hard, wooden floor. " I won't let you hurt him!" I swished out my knife and stabbed it right into her shoulder blade, she screamed in agony as she tumbled onto the floor. I dashed towards Blake. "Honey, are you alright? I'll get you outta here." I tried to help him up as I reached towards his jacket for his gun. "Can you stand?" I asked. He nodded in reply. Biting his lower lip, he focused on the floor and tried to slowly adjust himself to put some pressure on his injured legs.
"Arghhhhhhh," she screamed, lunging forward with her gun aimed at me. " You betrayer, she took care of us both and you do this now? Loving a enemy? Protecting him at all costs? Die!!" She pulled the trigger and shot. He clasped his hand over my eyes and hugged me, with his back taking the shot. "No!". It was too late. He exerted weight onto me as he crashed onto me, his head on my shoulder.
Damiene held onto the surrounding furniture in support to maintain her balance as she slowly made her way towards us. "Look what you've done." I did not want to even look at her. I was trying to hold back my tears. "Don't, don't come here. I don't know what I'll do." I spoke. "Go, go right now."
I walked up the stairs. Went back to where it all happened. There it lied among the remains and clusters of dust balls that accumulated during the years, was a letter addressed to to British Intelligence and Dr Marc Bains (Bachelor in Mental Health).
It must have dropped when Blake got shot, because it laid where he crashed onto the floor. I picked it up and opened it..
The ending of this story would be exposed to you guys if there's enough support on this one! ^^ alternative endings are also encouraged so please do drop your opinions and suggestions in the comment box below! Thanks for reading! :) improvements on the storyline are also welcomed~
