I slowly stepped down the stairs. Even though it had been six weeks, I still felt as if the troubles happened yesterday. I hadn't accepted any food lately, and although I was starving, all food reminded me of something. I sat down on the sofa. Winston yet again tried to give me tea, but yet again, I refused. Everyday he'd tried to make conversation with me, but I didn't speak. My lips had been sealed for the past two weeks.
"Lara, I understand-" Winston was cut off by me.
"No you don't understand Winston! You don't understand what it's like to be trapped in your own thoughts! You don't…"
Winston's lips trembled. He stepped back, and he walked up the stairs.
"Winston, I…I didn't mean that…I…I'm sorry…"
"It doesn't matter…I'll…I'll leave you to your thoughts…" I saw a tear slide down his cheek, and he walked up to his room. When he shut the door, my temper rose.
"What is wrong with me!? Oh my god, why do you keep taking your anger out on other people! I'm a monster…" I ran to the kitchen. Whatever I was forcing myself to do, I wasn't going to like it. I opened up the pantry cupboard door, and grabbed three bottles of bourbon. I'm definitely not a drinker, but this was meant to be torture to myself. I popped open the cork, and stuck the bottle in my mouth.
When the whole bottle was finished, I sat down on the couch, my vision blurry and my reflexes tired. Suddenly, the phone rang. I was going to ask Winston to get it, but I slightly remembered what I'd done to him. I stood up, and answered the phone. It was Werner.
"Oh, hi Werner! How're you doing?" My voice was juvenile.
"Oh, Hi Lara. I'm going…good. Look, I need you in Paris. I've accepted a commission and I'm worried."
"Paris! Oh, you mean the city of lights? Oh… I love lights! They're pretty."
"Lara, this is probably a long shot, but…are you…drunk?"
"Drunk? No…I don't know what you're talking about." At that moment, I fell to the floor.
"Lara? Lara, are you alright? I knew she was drunk." Werner sounded disappointed. He hung up.
"Lara, come on. I need some help. Can you give me a hand please? Wake up!" Winston yelled at me. My eyes slowly opened.
"Winston? What did I do?"
"You were drunk. Come on, up onto the couch!" I flopped my legs onto the arm of the chair.
"Werner called. He wants you in Paris."
"Paris? Werner? Okay, tell him I'll meet him there," I said. "Oh, Winston,"
"Yes Lara?"
"Sorry…about…before…that's what the bourbon was for…torture." I explained sorrowfully.
"It's fine Lara. I'll start packing your bags too."
Paris…
I trudged through the rain, my boots squelching against the cement. No one was outside. There was a newspaper stall out, but nobody hosting it. I took one, and read it.
"15 murders have been reported by the police, no known survivors. Citizens are asked to stay in their homes until further notice."
Intriguing. I had better keep my eye out. I stared up at the Chantell building. It was tall; about fifteen apartments high. Winston had written down the address.
'Apartment 12Chantell building, Paris 75020' I liked Winston's handwriting. It was very neat.
After climbing the 11 flights of stairs, I knocked on the door.
"Who is it?" came Werner's voice.
"It's Lara." I mumbled.
"Lara!" He immediately opened the door.
"Lara! Gee, it's been a while hasn't it?"
"Yes, yes it has." I sounded pushy, but I was actually kind of happy to see him.
"Come in, come in!" Werner was wearing gloves, and I wasn't surprised. It was very cold. I slumped into a chair, and he sat down in front of me.
"So, how have you been over the past few weeks?"
"Not very well. I can't get over what's happened."
"Ah... Oh! I have something for you Lara, I'll go and get it." He stood up, and walked behind the spiralling stairs. I heard him open something. He came back with a small box, and pulled out what seemed to be my life.
"Werner! How did you get it back?!"
"I found it in the Great Pyramid. I tried to put it in the same position it was before it was…lost." It had seemed my backpack was as important to Werner as it was to me.
"Lara…I need to ask you a favour."
"Oh? What is it?" If I had of realized what he was going to ask, I would have backed out no matter what he said.
"I need you to get something for me."
"Go on…" I started to worry about his tone of voice. It had gotten quieter, and more sincere.
"I'm tracking five obscura paintings for a client called Eckhardt. But he's a psychopath."
"Not my problem. You took the commission and now you're out of your depth. Why should I care?" I started to get warmer, and I could feel it.
"Because I'm being stalked! I daren't go into the streets! People are dying out there!" Now, I'd really lost it.
"Handle it Werner! I had to when you abandoned me in the tombs!" I started to have a headache. My head pounded. I stood up, and was ready to walk out the door into the rain.
"Lara, please. Go and see this woman, Carvier. She can help."
"Sort out your own mess. I'm going."
"No, Lara wait!" I pushed him back into his chair and leaned over him.
"Egypt Werner. You walked away and left me. There was no pity then."
"Get out!"
I don't know if he was aiming at me, but Werner shot three bullets. I don't know how, but somehow I was bashed up against Werner's cupboard. I saw Werner, lying on the floor…dead. It was definitely unexpected. I ran up close to him.
"Werner? Werner!? Wake up! Wake up!" I yelled in his ear. But it was no use. He was dead. I sighed, and a tear dropped down to the floor. I lifted him up, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Lightning struck outside, symbolizing my time to leave. I sighed a sigh of desperation. I longed to go back in time, to stop myself from opening that Stupid sarcophagus in the Tomb of Set. But that, like many things, was impossible.
A bang at the door interrupted my thoughts. It was the police.
"Dammit," I whispered. "Got to find somewhere to hide!"
I searched frantically. Werner had piled up his cupboards with clothes, food and old towels. I guess he was normal.
I ducked behind the spiralling staircase. The policemen had busted themselves inside, and where now shining their torches in every spot the light could reach.
Coming closer to the kitchen, I thought I could sneak past them.
I crouched down and crawled towards the front door. Unluckily for me, I stood on a piece of glass, which broke under the pressure of my boot.
"Damn!" I whispered, I had hoped that luck would have been on my side today, but it wasn't. I ran out the door, just as one of the police officers said into his walkie-talkie,
"Suspect has escaped the building. Call for backup. Over."
