This is how an angel dies
I blame it on my own sick mind.
Just blame it on my ADD baby.
My heart skips a beat. He's... He's finally done it. That day, that day I always knew would come is here. He's tipped, he's gone over the edge, he's had enough. Now he's gone. He's gone... Tears prick my eyes, before soon racing down my cheeks. He's dead. It feels as if a hole has been ripped from my chest, where my heart once was. He's dead. He never told me anything about it, not a single word. I thought he would, but not even a whisper. Shows how special I was to him. Now he's gone, I feel as if I haven't got much left living for.
My brother is dead.
"Are you okay?" I hear the raspy tone on the other end of the phone, but I fail to register it. I have been like this for a while-I've not really been keeping track- a month maybe? Wrapped up in my bedsheets, sobbing my eyes out, the hole in my chest refusing to heal. Molly can see it all too well. Poor Molly, having to deal with me as a friend. More like best friend, to be honest. "You have to get out of your house, go for a walk maybe. Just clean yourself up Mary. Please."
"W-Why should I?" I manage to stammer out.
"Because you're broken, and I know that will help you heal." I think Molly cares too much.
Sobs grip me again, soul-ripping sobs, whisking it all into oblivion. My body is racked with tears and loneliyness.
"Mary? That's it; I'm coming to sort you out."
"But-"
"I am, end of story. You have to be fixed, and I'm the one that will do it."
A dull, flat beep comes from the receiver.
The tears release me. I finally open my eyes, to see a mess. My mess. The mess of my bedroom. Tissues litter the floor, with books and other things that once lay on my desk and are now lying peacefully with the other discards, other things I threw from my tabletops.
I slowly get up, only to feel strong aching, extremely strong aching in my legs. I try to stand, but instantly fall face-first into the sea of rejects. A strong, mouldy aroma hits me. I get away from it, and crawl into the shower.
My numb fingers shakily turn the dial to switch the water on. Millions of tiny little droplets of water cascade down onto me, and I feel my problems wash away, with the dirt and sweat I have collected over a month. They all wash away, down the drain, out of my life. But the hole in my chest refuses to heal, even in a clean body.
I step from the shower, and pat myself dry. I feel a tiny bit better, I guess, but a shower doesn't change the fact he's gone. The feeling of being alone. The worst feeling in the world.
The floaty cloth of my dress slips over my head. I smooth it down, and proceed to dry my hair. It flutters forcefully in the power of the hairdryer. When I finish, my hair is dry. The brush runs through it, taming the beast of my bronze hair. I style it into a loose bun, small curls drifting to the sides of my face. I drift a thin line of eyeliner along my eyelids, and add a slight pink tint to my lips.
I look at myself in the mirror. I can't really do anything more. Everything's mended, but my eyes. They are so deep, so broken, so cold. I wish I could change it.
Three raps at the door. I run to the door to find Molly standing there.
"Sorry about the mess." I mutter, as she walks into my house. "I'll be five minutes, just let me collect my things and put on my shoes."
"Okay." She smiles at me brightly, just like she always does. But deep down, I can see just how bad she's feeling. She hovers around my mess of a kitchen, waiting.
I grab my phone, lip gloss, eyeliner and notepad, and throw them into a small bag. I keep a tight hold of it, and race back down the stairs. I slip my feet into my peachy flats, and beckon Molly over.
"Where are we going?" I ask her.
"We're going to meet my friend, John."
"Oh, okay."
Turns out the outside world is rather pleasant. Now we're just sitting here, on a bench, waiting for John to arrive. Molly's sitting by my side, babbling on about some of the bodies she had looked at recently. I don't really listen; what a good friend I am.
I look about me. Bright little park, full of pigeons and bright green grass. Very quiet. Extremely quiet. Maybe a little too quiet.
A man looks towards Molly and waves. She waves back. He limps towards us and sits next to her. I smile at him, and he smiles back.
"Hi." He says. He rests his stick on the bench arm, and relaxes a bit.
"Hi." I reply.
Well, this is awkward.
"I'm going to go and get coffee. Want anything?" Molly breaks the silence.
"Black coffee, two sugars please."
"Tea please." We both speak at exactly the same time.
"So that's one black coffee and one tea? Okay, I'll be five minutes." She walks off, cream coat billowing behind her. Such a sweet girl.
"You're John, then." He nods. "I'm Mary. Hi." He smiles at me. "How long since you came home?"
"Excuse me?" He seems surprised.
"You went to war, did you not? That kind of limp is from war trauma."
"O-oh, yeah. I got back a few years ago. Afghanistan." His eyes seem pained.
"Are you okay?" I whisper. A single tear falls from his eyes, a diamond of sorrow. I scoot a little closer to him.
"I-I'm fine, honestly." He chokes out.
"No you're not. What's up? You can tell it me? I read too much into people, sorry."
"N-no, you just- You remind me of him. My best friend. He's, er-"
I don't say anything.
Molly seems to be taking a while.
"I understand." I manage to say. "If you had seen me this morning, I would have been a mess. I mean- I was mourning. Molly managed to drag me out of the mess of my bed, out here."
"Mourning?"
"My brother, he..." I cough. "He died, about a month ago."
"Ah."
We stay in silence until Molly returns, and hands us both a cardboard cup. A few slurps every so often, but silence.
"I heard you were looking for a flat, John." Molly whispers.
"Yeah."
"Well, Mary has spare rooms." I just give her the death stare.
"Does she?" He seems actually interested. Well, fine. Maybe this could work.
"Yeah." I breathe. "Why don't you come and have a look, I dunno, next Monday?"
"Okay, sure." He really seems happy about it.
"Molly can give you the address, right?" I say.
I have a heck of a lot of cleaning to do.
Stars. Beautiful, tiny twinkling spots of light. Diamonds that grace the satin of the night. I adore them. They are so magical, so awe-inspiring. I've always dreamed of them, since I was small. Amazing. It'd be even better if I could see them, against the amber glow of civilization outside.
I sigh, and my hands go together. This is what I like best, writing. It's my first choice for a career, always has been. I have loved writing since I was tiny, always writing funny little stories about my cuddly toys and people from school. They weren't very good.
Knocks echo from the door. I jump from my seat in the study and run to the door. It's John. I smile, and welcome him into my home.
"This is the main room." The kitchen and living room are all open planned. One wall, the largest in the room, is covered with fitted bookcases and books. He looks at them, and chuckles to himself.
"I'm guessing you like reading." He smiles.
"Maybe a bit more that just reading. Perhaps I write them too..." I try to prompt him. He just looks confused. "I'm a writer."
"Really?" He seems genuinely surprised.
"Yeah, but under a pen name. Nobody knows it's me." I beam. "Find mine on there, I dare you."
He looks the bookcase over, and finds it within an instant.
"Bluebell? Not such an original penname."
"I was rushed! The publishers were okay with me having a penname, but they wanted one on the spot, and that was the only thing I could think of." He laughs.
I show him upstairs, and the two choices he has for a room. One's bigger than the other, so of course he chooses that one.
"You will be moving in then?" He nods. "Great!" I never stopped smiling.
"I think I will be back tomorrow evening with my stuff." I whisper a little 'okay'. "See you then!"
I wave goodbye, letting him out before I return to my computer.
I really ought to sleep, but that would be a pity. I'm in my 'state'. I could think for hours and hours on end, without any mention of sleep. Thinking about the night sky, about exploring it, about exposing every wonder the universe has to offer. Educating the masses about the wonders of space.
I may be able to find a few stars. I can see the North Star... Nope, it's just an aeroplane. But I can definitely see my favourite stars, the triplets, Orion's Belt. They're my favourites because it is the first constellation I can see, no matter where I am. But sometimes, it is impossible to see them, because of the storms, because of the glow of street lights, so I just imagine them there. They comfort me, my stars.
Sometimes, I feel so alone.