Death was something most humans feared. The things that came after, the uncertainty of what was beyond. Anxiety plagued them in their belief that nothing came after this existence. Yet he held onto none of those fears. He did not get the fact that once he was gone from this world, he was gone forever. All he wanted was to be gone. It did not matter what came after. He was tired of the suffering, of the shame, and of the guilt, which slowly and painfully obliterated him. He had begged for death to come faster. To end all these with one single blow to his heart. If he were stronger and his limbs were not so weak that they no longer needed his calls, he would have prayed to death until they arrived at his door. But Eliana was faster. Ahead. It was because he was here, bedridden like this. If not, what was she to him other than an annoying fly that he could easily swat away? She could not have been faster, nor would she have had the thoughts of punishing him or putting those thoughts i
The festival had been a blast. After Sophie joined them, they danced and twirled till their eyes saw double, and they lost control of their bodies. Then they joined the rest of the villagers and continued the celebration till dawn. Rhys was the first to wake up from where they had crashed into the rock. He could not remember what time they had come back here. Memories of the night were foggy and broken, but he remembered the shouting as their bodies rocked each other, the eating, and the clapping. He stumbled to the sea and retched, discharging half of the food he had eaten yesterday into the water. If food would intoxicate someone, then that was what must have happened. Or perhaps it was the drinks. His head throbbed painfully, and he held it in his hands as though that would help him get rid of the headache. He looked around; Raul and Sophie were still asleep; she placed her head on his shoulder; and the clearing in which the festival had taken place was strewn with half-fini
Eliana threw back her head and laughed. There was something about Rhys that reminded her greatly of her youth. when she was young and not so uptight. It made her feel like she could be young and free again. She could throw all caution into the wind and just live, not minding the consequences. Tears had begun to appear in her eyes from all the laughter, and she cleaned them off with a finger. “What did I do?” She echoed his question. “It’s funny. I’m sorry, but it is really funny. For you to think that an old woman like me can do anything.” She smirked and corked her head to the side. “What did you think I did, Rhys?” Rhys stared at the woman long and hard. And she laughed again. He frowned. “Are you drunk? Did you take those pills again?” She narrowed her eyes. “What pills? How do you know about the pills?” He rolled his eyes and got up from his seat. “You took the pills. Get up; I’m taking you to bed.” “No,” she shrieked. “I am going nowhere.” “We have a guest in the ho
Rhys reclined on his foot. He watched the scene unfold with a mixture of guilt to and admiration. He heard her voice as it flew through the air. It was loud and clear. It showed him the ones she ran from, the ones she wanted to forget, and the ones she loved. It was the story that she struggled to tell him, and he understood her perfectly. She wanted the works to be seen, yet they were all ignored. As she sang, something shifted within him. With each verse, her voice grew stronger and more resolute, as if finding its footing on uncertain ground. It soared and dipped, rising like a dove from the pieces of her despair. Then there was a moment of pure clarity. The moment when he realised that her voice was her instrument—the melody and harmony of her soul. This was all she needed. Sophie was not mute; she was not disabled; each note confirmed that. She was strong and powerful, and her voice was the deadliest weapon she had. He smiled as he thought of Eliana. If she ever saw this, sh
Rhys tapped his feet as they waited for the therapist. They had driven a long distance to be here, and Sophie was anxious to go back home before her aunt noticed their absence. The receptionist, whom they had booked their appointment with and had received them as they came, returned with two bottles of chilled water. “Here please.” She smiled nervously, handing them one bottle each. “Vivienne would be here shortly. She doesn’t usually keep her clients waiting, but something came up last minute.” “No, it’s fine,” Rhys began saying, but stopped as Sophie punched his thighs. “Uhh, if there is a way you can let her know we are here and in quite a hurry,” he said instead. The woman took a step back. Rhys had the time to take a good look at her now—he hadn’t before. She looked like she was in her early or mid-thirties, chubby with a chinless face and fat legs that hid inside a pair of flat soles. “Well,” she began. “Ms. Vivienne is aware that you are here, and you do know that your
Rhys himself could barely explain how it felt to hear those words from her mouth. Those three words had evoked a lot of feelings in him all at once, and he could not react immediately. He had spent almost a half hour staring at her, unbelieving, yet he wanted to hear the words again. He had scooped her in his arms and kissed her until he felt all his feelings evaporate into thin air, and all that was left were their bodies. They are hot against each other. That day, he loved her back. He let go of everything that held him back—all his restraints—and gave her all of him. He could easily picture that day as the best day of his life. The day he had been free. They made love there in the meadow. Her favourite place. He would do anything to be there again, in that moment, with her. And then she returned to being mute. He did not know what happened; she did not know what happened, and now he really wanted to help her. So he called one of his buddies, and they recommended Vivienne. She
The hell was not quite as hot or brutal as Rhys thought. Sophie’s aunt had no choice but to agree with Sophie’s note. She was old enough to go wherever she liked without coming back home to answer questions, but her aunt still had to remind her that she was living under her roof and eating her meal. Sophie, at one point, was tempted to ask whose fault that was but decided it was better to let her aunt have the last laugh rather than drag this out longer than they both wanted. After the loud bickering and the passing of the storm—again, Rhys’ thoughts—Rhys decided to go through Sophie’s note book again. It had been so long since he had a glimpse into her past. He stole the book from Sophie’s room—she had taken it back sometime ago without his knowledge—and retired to his room and sunk into bed. Yesterday, he received a letter from the ‘new owner’s stressing that they had closed down their shop for more than three months and this was affecting his businesses. He was going to prop
You know, I can’t find her book. Uncle had gotten two of the same kind of books and given us one each. I can’t find hers. Ever since she went missing,. Rhys shut the book and laid it to one side. He hated how the book made him feel, but he was thankful for the things the book showed him. Sophie’s past, which he now feels connected to in some way. Eliana had been wrong; his relationship with his mother had been strained, especially towards the end of her life, but her family, the one she tried to hide from the world, was the absolute worst. He could not imagine a father who killed his own daughter, scared his wife’s niece so much, and a mother who tried to protect that man. It was obvious that she did not love him. Then why did she do it? Why was she so bent on making everyone believe her family was okay? Why did she not report him for his crimes? Was the opinion of society and how she appeared to them all that mattered to her? How could it be all that mattered? He got out of bed