x
"The most powerful socializing force in the universe is mutual dependence."
Frank Herbert
____________________________________________________________________
Cassie was asleep on the sofa, to one of the Harry Potter movies. I slowly reached over to grab the remote control and turn off the TV.
- Xio? Is that you?" she murmured, trying to open her clear eyes.- Yes, go back to sleep- Are you alright?
- Hmm, everything's fine. I lay a fuzzy plaid over her little body and head for the bathroom.
I undressed and looked at myself in the mirror, whispering to myself that I had to pull myself together. I had to be tougher, I had to become that cold woman again, at all costs. I had no other choices.
I crawled under the scalding water, staying under those watery tears, streaming down my skin for a good fifteen minutes. I thought of nothing else. The shower had the power to soothe my soul. One of the only things that calmed me was rain, the sea, lakes, a shower or a bath. Water, by virtue of so many benefits, had become a drug, almost as much as alcohol.
Once out, I rubbed my long black hair on the towel without delicacy to dry it a little. I look again at the mirror, now fogged up, seeing only the reflection of the outline of what's left of my being, letting that gray shadow creep into those blurred droplets. I'd rather not see myself. I'd rather not meet my gaze. I'd rather fade away like this reflection. I run my hand over the mirror at the level of my face, but even when I crush the drops, my image remains blurred. Now that was a good representation of me. Was I real? Was this world real?
I brushed my teeth and as the mist began to evaporate, I met my gaze again. My hair fell to the middle of my back and stuck to my skin. I lifted it up and tied it into a braid so that, tomorrow, it would be a little wavy. Not dull, not so smooth as usual. Why the sudden change? I wondered. But I didn't give it any further thought. Should there really be an answer to this trivial question? Such a small change wouldn't affect the course of my life. At least, that's what I thought.
My life had become a slow, insipid routine, ever since my father died and my older brother went missing; that was 11 years ago, I was only 15. My mother sank into depression. She no longer paid any attention to me, to my presence, to my distress. A young teenager having to fend for herself. I don't blame her, losing your husband and your son, it messes you up, it eats away at you; it changes you.
We were a rich family: my father was the director of a medical analysis laboratory, my mother worked for a recruitment company and my brother had just graduated a degree in computer science. We used to go out a lot, especially during weekends, family vacations abroad, then one day our outings became more and more spaced out. I could sometimes hear, in a whisper at night, my parents tearing each other apart, arguing like Zeus' lightning in a clear sky. I'd plug my ears until sleep took me away. At school, I'd hear kids telling me their parents were getting divorced, I laughed, thinking they'd never really loved each other. Deep down, I was afraid my parents would split up. My family... It evaporated without me even seeing it coming. I still remember that late Thursday afternoon, I was on my way home from school when my mum called me.
- Sweetie... I can still hear her voice muffled by sobs.
- Your father... She paused for what seemed like an eternity.
- He's dead.
Those three words felt like a cannonball in my stomach, echoing deep in my brain. I could hear her crying and screaming into the phone. Outside, the weather was fine, and the June sun was warming the hearts of those walking around me. They carried smiles and laughter with them as groups of friends crossed the street for a drink at the bar opposite, a couple walking hand in hand, a kid playing ball with his dog, drivers speeding down the road in a hurry to get home at the end of a long day's work. Everything was going too fast, too lively, too colorful, too noisy. I was staining the landscape. The storm had just hit me, I was already dying, leaving everything behind and deserting my reflection in the glass wall of the DIY store next to me. This could have been useful, to avoid feeling my heart crack. In that reflection, I saw my eyes empty. Nothingness. The storm had been so violent that it had taken everything with it. I stood there, impassive, waiting for the world to finish killing me.
- Just come home.
I can still hear her voice pleading me. The police were out in front of the house, journalists were trying to interview me, but I ignored them and ran inside.
- Mom! Mom!
I found her sitting on the couch. I slowly moved to stand in front of her. Her gaze shocked me. The whites of her now blood-red eyes told me her words were real. Her usually sparkling irises were dead. Her gaze was plunged into the family photo hanging above the fireplace. She didn't even notice me.
- Mom... I stooped, but his gaze passed right through me. I had become invisible.
I hiccupped, even stammered.
- T-Tell me what's - what's... going on
She didn't answer, so I raised my voice, grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her, crying.
- What happened... What happened to dad!
A policeman lifted me up with his hands under my armpits. He pulled me away from my mother, who hadn't moved an inch. I struggled, screamed, kicked his massive torso, begging him to put me down. He sat me down in the kitchen and asked me
- What's your name?
- Xiona. I replied, crying- Xiona... Your father has been found dead, I'm sorry. He took me in his arms, and my cries doubled.
- Why? Why... I said, calming down a little. I needed to know, it was a necessity.
- Do you know if your father did drugs?
- My dad didn't do drugs, no; he would never touch that shit. I said in a scathing tone. Are you saying he died from a drug?
- I'm not implying anything, we're just looking for informations, okay? Have your parents been fighting lately?
- Yes, all parents do.
- Do you know where your brother is? He asked.
- No, I don't.
- If he calls you, contact me at this number. He handed me a business card.
- My father... I looked up at the policeman.
- That's right, dear. We'd like to know.
None of the scenarios seemed plausible. Suicide? Drug-induced? Overdose? Impossible. An accident? No way. Murder. That's all I could think of. But why? I reached for my phone and pressed the call button of my brother's contact. Beep beep beep. Voicemail. Fear takes over my body.
- Does he know?" I asked hesitantly.
- No, he doesn't.
- Find him, what the hell are you still doing here! I shouted, trembling.
That night, my mother didn't sleep, still sitting in the same spot on the sofa. I couldn't sleep either, my mind filled with the worst-case scenarios and unanswered questions. while the master bedroom was blocked off with "no trespassing" banners. The next day, as I rummaged through my wardrobe to pack my bag and leave the house for an undetermined time, as the inspectors had requested it, I found a small brown letter. Nothing was written on it. I opened it.
"You must be worried, you can be Xio. I can't imagine the state you're in right now, and I apologize for not being by your side. I'm asking you not to try to understand why, or to look for me. Trust no one. Don't talk about this letter, burn it once you've read it. I'm not messing around, for once do what I tell you. I don't know when I'll see you again, or if I ever will. You should go away, far away from here, far away from this town. Don't make any waves, make yourself small. The only thing I can tell you, if it makes you feel any better, is that Dad didn't kill himself.
I love you, sis"
Many emotions ran through me. Fear. Incomprehension. Sadness. Rage. I folded up the letter and burned it with a lighter at the window. The smell of burning paper stung my nose and made me cry harder. I didn't understand what was happening, or what was going on in the shadows, but I had to face it. I had to start from scratch as he asked, after all, I trusted him, he was my big brother, a pillar of strength. I was hoping for one thing, to see him again, for him to explain everything so that Mom and I could mourn.
42Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡF2co431MXS
