Faceless

(Day Five, "Lucia")

Dear Lucia,

You were the best sister a girl could ask for.

You were sweet and kind and a lovely friend, even in the rare moments when we fought.

You were scared of the dark. I remember when we were young--nine, I think--and you were shivering and crying. I called you over to my bed and calmed you down as best I could.

I was never good at that, and I'm so sorry for that.

You were always good at the feelings stuff.

I never was.

But that doesn't mean I don't have feelings.

It killed me, truly killed me, when you died at my hand. Now I'm just a phantom stalking this hollow shell we call Earth.

I remember that day, more clearly than Father's or Cass's or Eros' death.

We got in a fight.

You learned about my deal with the Curtain.

It was the only time I've ever seen you spitting, cursing, raging mad.

And you blamed me for Cassie's death.

I know you weren't in your right mind. It was quite obvious.

But it still struck a nerve.

I started crying. You were crying. We were both yelling.

I can barely remember what we yelled about. It was fuzzy then in my rage-filled mind and it's fuzzy now in my clear mind.

I stomped off to the roof. Technically, no one should be able to go out on the roof, but I'm a good enough climber to where I could scale from the highest window to the lip of the roof and from there I could drag myself onto the roof.

You followed me. I was scared for you--you weren't the best climber--but I let you come anyway. I wanted to apologize. I wanted you to apologize. Selfish, I know. Especially when I realized you were dead.

You climbed up after me.

You grabbed my hand. I spun around.

It must have rained, because my foot slipped on the slanted roof. Your foot slipped.

I could barely stop myself from tumbling over the edge. You did, but I had a grip on your hand.

A weak grip. A very weak grip. My hand was smeared with tears and snot from crying, and I couldn't use my other hand to grab you as my other hand was holding onto the roof.

You slipped from my grip.

It happened almost instantaneously.

But you fell in slow motion.

Reaching back towards me, fear sparkling in your eyes, exact replicas of my eyes. Your hair fluttering across your face.

I couldn't look away as you hit the ground with a resounding crack.

Blood circled your body like a halo, slowly seeping out from underneath your corpse.

Even from so high up I could tell you were dead.

I crawled away from the edge and curled up on the roof. I was sobbing, shuttering, screaming in pain. It was like every bone in my body was being ripped through with a blazing hot knife.

I'm not crying now.

I'm so sorry.

I'm not crying.

I should be.

I miss you.

I don't have any tears left to cry.

I'm sorry.

I killed you.

I love you, Lucia.

Happy hunting, sister.

Happy hunting in the stars.

(end of recording.)