Chapter I, Grace

I finally back to this gloomy place once more. This greyish stone along with the cloudy sky depicts the feeling inside my heart that I try so hard to hide.  The smell of wet soil still lingers in this place, I bet the rain has stopped not long ago before I arrived. Even my shoes look muddy and dirty, I feel ashamed to meet you in this state. I reach the soil to pick up some wild grass that grows over time, I keep doing other unimportant things to delay our conversation, I really need some time to dare myself to talk to you, I sigh, biting my lips then start talking to you.

Throughout our conversation, or so, this stupid water keeps dripping on my face and sometimes I wipe it off as if it’s nothing. I shouldn’t have worn this mascara today. I then pat the gravestone like I pat your head back in the day.  I told you things, about my life, days without you. I know I talk to nothingness right now. God, you might not even hear me. Even though, I’m kind of glad I agreed to buy that coffee shop near here last year, at least I could meet you occasionally like this. Hi Grace, my little sister, I really miss you.

I can hear the grumble from above. I look at the sky and realize that my time is up, I need to go back to my car, to reality. I glance at her home once more before I walk the path down. These trees around her might be the only friends of her now, so fragile yet so rough. I hope I could see her soon.

“Hey, are you okay?"

The coldness of the car handle somehow comfort me at the moment, I even stay still for a minute or two before he called me. I closed the door and just nodding to answer the question he asked earlier. The windows are wide open but I can still smell the scent of my boyfriend’s favorite cig. He looks at me and offers me one. God knows how much I want to take it but I know I need to stay alive, at least longer. Death is something we cannot cheat on after all yet what's so wrong to take care of myself before my end day. The only thing I learn from my sister’s death is, it never gets easier. Maybe someone will cry at my funeral, or not, but it is how life works. People come and go and then forgotten, just like that. Suddenly things get blurry, I know I'm on the verge of tears. The warmth of his hand on mine just creates a flood of tears on my face. Overthinking must be some kind of curse.

He turns the engine on. I hate it when I show my weakness like this, just because he is my boyfriend, doesn’t mean I want to look dependent and weak and disgusting like this. Ugh, grow the fuck up Emma. The feeling is feeling, you cannot keep inside all the time. The other thing I hate about life is my internal fight, this, just like this. I feel stupid to have a war inside my head. I turn the radio on to muffle the sounds inside my head before it blows up.

“You can talk to me now, glancing won’t answer your questions you know?”

Those words just jumble out of my mouth I look at him to see a reaction. He will hate me now. I’m an ungrateful bitch in this state. He is on his day off and I’m acting crazy again and ask him to the best place in the world, the graveyard. I don't understand how he still dating me, I would break my selfish ass up.

“We can talk later at the diner. Take your time.”

I still can't get over his deep voice. He looks back at me and kisses my hand while drive, this gesture is sweet but cringe but sweet. I can’t help but wonder what is inside his head. He's back focusing on the road now. His hand is now placed on the steering wheel. I just realize he is wearing the turtleneck I bought him last month. I know broken white will enhance his olive skin tone but this is better than I expected. He fixes his hair, again. I always think that his light brown wavy hair is neat but maybe he just very insecure about it. He fixes his hair often, by often I mean almost every five minutes. His icy grey eyes are now glancing at me and I could see the smile in the corner of his lips when he exhales the white smoke away are now obvious, ugh that smug face of him really annoying.  I turned my head away to the window.

That silver sphere is finally up. Sadly it lights not as beaming as the street light. These street lamps are illuminating the highway. Not many cars are passing tonight maybe because today is the weekend. This three hours of driving is nothing compares to our anniversary date last year. We went out of town for a tour to visit some of our friends. And we have a different circle of friends. He has a law and enforcement kind of friends or network to be precise. It can't be helped because he works as a policeman. On the other hand, I have snob, crazy friends, had.  I don't talk to them anymore because when my family falls into poverty they treat me like shit. Except one, Jan, her name is January but born in November. Her parents already set her name but then she had to born prematurely. I sometimes send her a present and say happy birthday in January to piss her off.

We finally arrived at our favorite diner. The neons in this place are so luminous, the place looks so inviting. It somehow gives retro vibes. He pushes the glass door, the bell jingling above our head. Inside of this diner is surprisingly spacious people could park six cars inside this place.

“Hi pops!”

He comes behind the counter to hug his dad. His dad's face looks beaming as ever. It's been a while since our last visit to his diners. He gestures me to come close to him.

“What a pleasant surprise.”

He pats my shoulder with a gentle smile. He’s been treating me like his own daughter since my parents passed away. He is always been generous. He told us to sit down and we will catch up later after the diner closed. This place is pretty packed tonight. I can see parents with their children, young couples, old couples, and even lonely people at the bar. The smell of fries, patty, and other tasty food filled the room.

 The music suddenly changes, I see the jukebox is surrounded by an adult couple. Dancing Queen by ABBA is now playing. Some people get up to dance. His dad sings along from the counter with the cashier and waitress. I wish I could feel the joy too. How can people dance so free and happy? Don't they have any problems in their lives?

“Do you wanna talk or just keep judging people?”

His voice startled me. He paused and touches my hand. I feel warmed and calmed. Those grey eyes feel intimidating yet somehow comforting. I know I need to talk to him about my sister, sooner or later. We have been dating for a while and I have never told him about my family, about Grace, not even once. I think this is the time.

“Her name is, I’m sorry, was Grace”

I tell him everything about it. Not everything. He later knows Grace is my little sister. She was four years old when she died, murdered. She was dead with a single blow on her head, the murderer was a robber. He banged her head to the wall and strangled her to make sure that she's dead. Psychopathic moves. She was just a four years old girl. I can feel my heart is boiling by just telling him this. I've told these stories so many times to the police but I still can’t brush off the pain.

I still remember what happened that day when we were at home. I was laughing in front of the TV with Grace and our babysitter, Annie. I like Annie, she let us watched cartoons until late, 11 pm. Staying at home all day is very boring, especially when it's raining like that night.  There were only three of us. Both of my parents are out to some sort of boring party for businessmen and other rich-famous people.  

I wake up early the next morning, I opened the window and hearing nothing but the birds singing. I noticed that it's kind of weird to not seeing Grace greeting me in the morning, she always going into my room to wake me up and asking for play. I walk downstairs and smells something like iron. My heart beating so fast at that moment. There is this intuition where you know something bad is going to happen. The horror that I have seen next is beyond my imagination. She lay on the floor unconsciously, not breathing with wide-eyed bloodshot eyes and all I can see is blood splatter everywhere, everything has turned red. Her head’s shape… I could see the dent. It is not appropriate to say dent as if her head was a car but it is what it is.

I'm standing still watching her lifeless body there. Until today, I have never felt like the time had moved that slowly. I notice everything and the picture of her death is now stick to my brain for a very long long time. The only thing that looks different on her is I don't see her bracelet. She won't leave the bracelet just like that because we have a matching one from the anniversary of our parents. I know something was up, I look around to find out some expensive things like golden ornaments in my living room have gone missing. The sounds of a door open slap me back to reality. At that moment, I thought I was dreaming. I was utterly shocked, I couldn’t scream nor cry. I was way too calm until I touch that lifeless body of her, then sudden realization streak through my head. That was the loudest screaming, yelling, and crying I had done in my entire life.