A lead and a vase of flowers.
The sight of roses turning into blood is the image that snapped my eyes open each time I tried to rest. It was like Marcus was watching me. I’ve convinced myself the pale blue of his eyes must be due to contacts. They’re simply far too blue, far too beautiful.
Ping.
My phone dings on the counter. Setting my mug down I click on the screen to see it’s another message from my sister. As if fate couldn’t be any bigger of a bitch.
I’ve gotten three messages already today.
My mother left my father. She’s an emotional wreck and my sister is in shambles even though for years she’s been saying they aren’t good for each other. Of course they need me now. Of all times, my sister wants me to come home right now.
She’s practically demanding it and holding the fact that all I do is work over my head.
Hell… if she only knew.
The first time my phone went off this morning, I was making my first cup of coffee and I stared at my phone on the other end of the island where I’d decided to work. It couldn’t have been any later than 6:00 a.m. My initial thought when the chime went off was: it’s Marcus.
There was a hiss in the back of my mind, one provoked by the memory of his fingers against mine in the parking garage. One that taunted me. One that claimed I didn’t tell anyone because it was my secret to keep. No one else was allowed to have it.
I’m only faintly aware of that voice. It can so easily be blamed on the lack of sleep and the loneliness that crept up on me in Cody’s large, cold bed covered with black cotton sheets and a white and slate striped comforter.
The only bit of personality in that room was due to the full shelf of books. They’re classics and their spines worn down. The one that made me smile was The Hound of the Baskervilles. It figures that Cody would like Sherlock Holmes.
I tossed and turned in that empty bed, doing everything I could to rid the day from the deepest, darkest places of my conscience. I even took four of those sleeping pills I packed, but they didn’t do a damn thing.
I crawled out of bed and was met with that text from my sister, then one from Claire telling me to work from home today.
They don’t want me back in the office until they have more information on who is really responsible for the note left at my door, a.k.a. a lead.
It was easy enough to agree and keep my feet planted in Cody’s place. Not that I can focus enough to actually work. All I can think about is the phone number, each digit burning into my memory.
I haven’t messaged Marcus; I haven’t told anyone about it. Those four sentences feel like a ticking time bomb, and I don’t know how to find the wires, let alone cut them to prevent inevitable ruin.
My sister’s constant texts are the cherry on top of this shit sundae. At that very thought, another comes in:
I mean it, Dee. She won’t stop crying. She’s hysterical.
My sinking heart drags every cord down as it drops, stretching out the agony of it all.
Sometimes we see things we shouldn’t. We go through moments that take ahold of us. That’s the only way I can explain how I’ve felt since last night. It’s not detached, it’s overwhelmed. There was a time, when I first started, that I had to watch video evidence of a woman being beaten to death. It was only minutes and in this field, it wasn’t the most gruesome thing I’d ever seen. But there was a child present, and he couldn’t have been more than three years old. He was screaming and crying. He hit the man who was beating the woman. He wasn’t even her son.
I wasn’t right for a while. Days, maybe a week or two. I heard what people said to me but it took a moment too long to process, because all I could hear were the cries of a child wanting the bad man to go away. I understood how I felt, but the way my body responded and the way my thoughts weren’t keeping up, I just wasn’t right. My mind was stuck on the sound of a small boy crying out in time with the crunch of the woman’s skull hitting the concrete pavement.
I can take a lot. I like to believe I’m a strong woman, but I’m slipping just like I did then, only now it’s so much worse and seemingly slower. I’m slowly falling into a place I don’t want to be and I don’t know how to stop it. There’s no side of a well to cling to… I’m simply falling into an abyss.