This Has No Title, chapter 1
It was one of those cold, bitter, dank November days. It was raining. The kind of rain that was light to the touch but a prolonged exposure to it would leave anyone thoroughly wet. Despite the bleak outlook, people were braving the weather and were out on the streets, going about their daily business. Women with shopping bags or small children, pushchairs or umbrellas. Men with briefcases, mobile phones or carrier bags. Normal, everyday things. Nothing unusual or out of place.
People walking along the street would think nothing of her. She was just another passer-by. Just another person living just another life. No need for a second glance, no reason to be curious. Her hair was tidy, her makeup flawless, her clothes were fashionable. To them she was normal. A normal person going about her normal life. But she was anything but normal. In herself she had never felt so alien in all her life.
She walked quickly, fighting her way through the mass of oncoming people. She kept her head high, facing the elements. Another bump on the shoulder, another step on her heel. And still the sea of faces continued to pass her. Young faces, old faces. Happy faces. Normal faces. It made her sick.
She doubted that any of these people had been through what she had. Had seen what she had. Had felt what she had. She thought that she'd got over it. That she'd got her life back. But it was evident now, more than ever, that she hadn't. The slightest thing triggered it. Brought it all back. Music, television programmes, films, the brand of cologne, anything. Anything that reminded her of him. She couldn't help it that was just how it was. Who else would find an old shirt in their drawer and hold it close, as if somehow that might change things? She longed to talk to him again, but how can you talk to someone who isn't there? She longed to see him, to touch him, to just have him back. It cost her a lot to admit that, but it was true.
She reached the end of the high street and crossed the road. She walked hurriedly down a side alley and emerged onto another street. She turned right and continued on towards her destination. Her bag gently knocked against her leg as she increased her pace. She wanted to get back as soon as possible. Wanted to get back before it was too late. Perhaps today was the day. The day when she would find out it wasn't real. Maybe she would return to find him sitting in the living room, watching TV. Or in his room playing his guitar.
She jogged up the path and forced her key into the lock, roughly turning it and shoving the door open. The house was dark. She walked through the downstairs, turning the lights on as she went. Everything was as she had left it. She bounded up the stairs and stopped outside the door. No sound came from within the room. She carefully opened it and peered inside. And there it was. The room was empty apart from the odd box, but it was enough. Enough to be everything she needed to remind her. The regret, the loss, the agony.
She crashed back to reality. And with reality came the hot, bitter sting of her tears, rolling down her cheeks as she stood staring. How did she let this happen? How did she let it rule her life? Her every waking hour? How did she let herself become this?
At the time they had said it was normal. That she shouldn't worry everybody feels pain, just not in the same way. And she believed them. Time is a great healer, she'd been told. It may be true, but after eighteen months she failed to see it. It was just that now they didn't knows how she was feeling. She'd cut herself off, living in this fake world where everything might suddenly be how it used to be. But it never could be.
She backed out of the room and made her way downstairs, out of the front door and down onto the street. The rain was still falling. Heavy grey clouds hung in the sky, blocking out any light from the faded and distant sun.
Stepping through the gateway, she completed the journey she had made so many times before. Her breaths became short and laboured as she walked to the spot. She knew the way there off by heart. To the place she had visited on countless occasions. To the place that could bring her the closest to him.
She reached the spot and knelt down on the wet grass, her eyes welling up once again. She closed them, blocking out everything that surrounded her, as the memories came flooding back. She half smiled to herself, remembering the sounds, the smells, the pictures. The time when everything was okay. But the images of everything she wished she could forget pierced her peaceful reverie and her thoughts were filled with the sounds, the smells, and the blood. She shook her head in a vain attempt to clear her mind. She snapped open her eyes and everything was still. It was silent apart from the sound of her own shallow breathing.
She had to stop, she told herself. Had to move on. He would want her to do that. Not to spend her time moping over it. He would want her to be happy, to go out and live her life without him. It would be hard, but she at least had to try. For him.
She reached out and ran her fingers over the smooth stone. Felt the careful, precise engravings. And she whispered one simple word.
Goodbye.
She straightened up and pulled her jacket close around her. She sighed, wiping away the last of her tears. It would take time, but this was a start. A step. A step that she had needed to take. She would come back, of course she would. She was tied to this place, as was he.
She turned and walked away. Away from her brother's grave.
People walking along the street would think nothing of her. She was just another passer-by. Just another person living just another life. No need for a second glance, no reason to be curious. Her hair was tidy, her makeup flawless, her clothes were fashionable. To them she was normal. A normal person going about her normal life. But she was anything but normal. In herself she had never felt so alien in all her life.
She walked quickly, fighting her way through the mass of oncoming people. She kept her head high, facing the elements. Another bump on the shoulder, another step on her heel. And still the sea of faces continued to pass her. Young faces, old faces. Happy faces. Normal faces. It made her sick.
She doubted that any of these people had been through what she had. Had seen what she had. Had felt what she had. She thought that she'd got over it. That she'd got her life back. But it was evident now, more than ever, that she hadn't. The slightest thing triggered it. Brought it all back. Music, television programmes, films, the brand of cologne, anything. Anything that reminded her of him. She couldn't help it that was just how it was. Who else would find an old shirt in their drawer and hold it close, as if somehow that might change things? She longed to talk to him again, but how can you talk to someone who isn't there? She longed to see him, to touch him, to just have him back. It cost her a lot to admit that, but it was true.
She reached the end of the high street and crossed the road. She walked hurriedly down a side alley and emerged onto another street. She turned right and continued on towards her destination. Her bag gently knocked against her leg as she increased her pace. She wanted to get back as soon as possible. Wanted to get back before it was too late. Perhaps today was the day. The day when she would find out it wasn't real. Maybe she would return to find him sitting in the living room, watching TV. Or in his room playing his guitar.
She jogged up the path and forced her key into the lock, roughly turning it and shoving the door open. The house was dark. She walked through the downstairs, turning the lights on as she went. Everything was as she had left it. She bounded up the stairs and stopped outside the door. No sound came from within the room. She carefully opened it and peered inside. And there it was. The room was empty apart from the odd box, but it was enough. Enough to be everything she needed to remind her. The regret, the loss, the agony.
She crashed back to reality. And with reality came the hot, bitter sting of her tears, rolling down her cheeks as she stood staring. How did she let this happen? How did she let it rule her life? Her every waking hour? How did she let herself become this?
At the time they had said it was normal. That she shouldn't worry everybody feels pain, just not in the same way. And she believed them. Time is a great healer, she'd been told. It may be true, but after eighteen months she failed to see it. It was just that now they didn't knows how she was feeling. She'd cut herself off, living in this fake world where everything might suddenly be how it used to be. But it never could be.
She backed out of the room and made her way downstairs, out of the front door and down onto the street. The rain was still falling. Heavy grey clouds hung in the sky, blocking out any light from the faded and distant sun.
Stepping through the gateway, she completed the journey she had made so many times before. Her breaths became short and laboured as she walked to the spot. She knew the way there off by heart. To the place she had visited on countless occasions. To the place that could bring her the closest to him.
She reached the spot and knelt down on the wet grass, her eyes welling up once again. She closed them, blocking out everything that surrounded her, as the memories came flooding back. She half smiled to herself, remembering the sounds, the smells, the pictures. The time when everything was okay. But the images of everything she wished she could forget pierced her peaceful reverie and her thoughts were filled with the sounds, the smells, and the blood. She shook her head in a vain attempt to clear her mind. She snapped open her eyes and everything was still. It was silent apart from the sound of her own shallow breathing.
She had to stop, she told herself. Had to move on. He would want her to do that. Not to spend her time moping over it. He would want her to be happy, to go out and live her life without him. It would be hard, but she at least had to try. For him.
She reached out and ran her fingers over the smooth stone. Felt the careful, precise engravings. And she whispered one simple word.
Goodbye.
She straightened up and pulled her jacket close around her. She sighed, wiping away the last of her tears. It would take time, but this was a start. A step. A step that she had needed to take. She would come back, of course she would. She was tied to this place, as was he.
She turned and walked away. Away from her brother's grave.
