Who We Were | Book One

4. Stay Safe

I had never felt so lost inside my own home. 

The dread I felt crowded the hallway as the walls closed in, suffocating me. Everything was still in the same place it had been, still as clean as I remember. I brushed my fingers over the china ballerina figures on the hall shelf. Their delicacy had survived and not even a scratch tainted their carved bodies.

Tears pricked the back of my eyes as I stood in the living room, my gaze falling on the bookshelf which was proudly arranged like a museum exhibit. Books were piled on top of each other, stacked to the ceiling and organised only by their colour. It was a neat rainbow of literature accompanied by the soft scent of ageing paper and unopened words. 

An overwhelming sense of nostalgia washed over me and the aroma of something familiar was suddenly too much.

Mud had been trodden into the black tiles of the kitchen, creating dark, ombre streaks across the floor. The smell of stagnant water filled the room. It came from the small fish tank which sat on the counter. Instead of clean water filling the box, a thick, green scum clouded the glass and shielded its contents. 

The tank was my dad's. It was a birthday gift from mum when she had run out of things to get him. I remembered the day she had bought it and how she was so convinced he would like it.

* * *

"It'll keep him occupied," she'd said, bored of shopping.

"A fish?" I scoffed. "Are you sure? I've never heard him say he wants a fish?" 

"I've never heard him say he doesn't want a fish," she corrected.

"Why are you buying a castle with it?" I'd asked. "A fish doesn't need a castle." 

"Nobody needs a castle," she'd told me. "He might get bored otherwise."

* * *

The picture in front of me was wrong. Floating belly up on top of the slimy green water was Dorito, my dad's goldfish. He looked out; eyes wide open as green algae coated his orange scales.

I forced my way into the hall, tightening my grip around the wooden bannister as the staircase let out screams beneath my feet. Before, I trod them like an obstacle course. I knew every place they creaked, every stair to avoid when I sneaked in late at night. 

That didn't matter now. 

I pulled in a breath as I reached the last step, staring at the closed door of their bedroom. The white paint had begun to chip away with age and the shine of the golden knob had faded to a dull bronze. I reached out a hand and pushed it forward, swinging it open.

It was the smell that hit me first, unavoidable as it slammed against my chest, forcing the air from my lungs. 

My hand swung to my face as my knees buckled and I dropped to the floor. It was the two bodies on the bed, lying next to each other, that I couldn't rest my eyes on. 

My vision fogged as I panted through the sobs that wracked my chest. My mouth was open, gasping for air but none came. My fingers grasped at the carpet, nails digging into the ground as I tried to find something that would tell me it was a dream. Anything. 

The bed in front of me was a blur as I struggled to focus. Their hands were closed around each other, their fingers loosely intertwined against the duvet. 

The realisation that I was too late, that I was alone was too much. 

My body collapsed further to the ground and I screamed into the carpet, releasing every emotion that filled my body. I was past caring if there was anyone around to hear me, it didn't matter if I died anymore.