By Ouanessa Nana
The blood stains on the bottom of my shoes refuse to fade. But I guess it doesn’t matter anymore, it’ll just match the new dark stain that’s blooming crimson on the front of my shoe.
Today’s the thirteenth of May, one year since my aunt passed away.
Six months since my boyfriend found out the truth and left me.
Three months since my reputation was dissected and talked about by millions.
And it’s been two months since I’ve finally been able to say sorry without the words lingering and swelling inside my throat.
My cell is about ten feet. I think.
I’ve never been that good at measurements. The room is tiny with gray concrete walls and floors, and the bars were peeling. There are two wooden bunk beds with paper-thin mattresses. Well, my bed doesn’t have a mattress anymore, my cellmate took mine.
Her name is Monica Roffee. She’s older than me by a lot. She refuses to tell me her real age but I know there’s no way she’s the same age as me. Her skin has withered and her eyes are sunken so deep inside her face that I wonder if she can even see anything at all.
Monica knows everyone around here, bantering with others and sharing secret handshakes. I didn’t bother to learn anyone’s names or make friends. I don’t deserve to have that. To be calm, normal, happy, not when the invisible gleam of blood that’s still on my hands will forever be anchored to the dark.
When I first got here I cried myself to sleep, begging for my Aunt to come back to me. The first week Monica told me to shut up but I couldn’t stop sobbing. Then one night she climbs down the ladder and I’m certain she is going to suffocate me to death with the pillow she brought with her.
“Scoot over Fawn,” she says.
I sniffed, wiping my tear-stained eyes with the back of my hand. “What?”
“You heard me.” She snaps, her lips pressed into a thin line.
“Okay.” I say softly, my eyes hurting from the strain of sleepless nights. I yawn, sliding to the side of the wall until the cool hard concrete touches my skin.
Then she lay down next to me, even though the bed was too small to fit two people, we squeezed. Monica then began to stroke my hair until I fell asleep.
She did that every night up until two weeks ago. That’s around the same time she took the mattress but it seemed like a fair way for me to thank her.
Sometimes when I think about the night my aunt died my body still trembles and shakes so viciously that I can barely breathe. But I don’t have the heart to tell Monica. I think she knows I still get nightmares because sometimes she’ll start singing and it’s always my favorite song, I Will Wait by Mumford and Sons.
The ghost of the person I used to be would wait for me in the deepest crevices of my mind, to be slithered along my skin, hostile and cold, trying to fit between blood cells that didn’t match anymore. Putting her on was like trying on an old jacket, uncomfortable and difficult, and that just made me feel sick with grief because no matter how badly I wanted to be her, she was gone.
I had abandoned her a long time ago.
The guards at the prison come to get us at twelve for lunch. After thoroughly searching our beds they shove us outside to the dining hall to eat. I am handed a blue tray with a cup of meat fried rice, baked beans, a slice of chocolate cake, and water in a clear plastic cup. Monica and I take our food and sit down at the far left table where the rest of her friends are already seated.
“Shut up Emma. There’s no way Ava likes you when she’s had a crush on me for the past two weeks,” the girl with dark brown locks says. I think her name is Eve. I’m not sure.
Emma cocks her head. “Well, you weren’t the one in the showers this morning where she tried to kiss me.”
“So what I’m hearing is we’ve got to get to the bottom of who Zoe likes, Emma or Eve,” one of the girls at the table says with a grin.
“I vote for Eve. People always go for blondes.” Monica says and they all break out in laughter.
I glance up from my plate and notice that some of the girls are staring at me. They smile. I don’t smile back.
“What do you think, Fawn?”
I pretend to be concentrating on swirling my baked beans with my spoon.
“Excuse me? We asked you a question.” Eve says.
Monica smiles nervously and rubs my shoulders. “She’s just shy.”
I wish I could speak or at least pretend to be happy and give them the answer that they want but I can’t. It irritates me how well they can easily forget the past, and shrug off the crimes that placed them here when I can’t.
Then before I could blink Eve is rising from her seat and lunges toward me. I fall back into the bench and sharp pain edges along my spine. Her hand goes for my neck but Monica pulls her off of me.
“Calm down!” Monica shouts.
But Eve shoots daggers at me. “You think you’re better than us?!”
“That’s not it at all she’s just been through a lot,” Monica says, holding Eve’s left arm back.
“We’ve all been through a lot,” Eve says through gritted teeth.
Then I see it. A broken spoon clutched hard in Eve’s right hand. Monica hasn’t noticed she’s holding it.
“Wait!” I scream.
But it’s too late. Eve plunges the broken half of the spoon into Monica’s chest. She keeps pushing despite her screams, despite the blood, until you can barely see the plastic.
Monica’s eyes flicker and then she falls. Eve steps back in horror at what she’s done. It’s quiet and no one makes a sound. I ran towards Monica trying to get her up off the floor.
Blood seeed from the middle of her abdomen fast and she gurgled as blood spilled from her lips. She needed help. Where are the guards?
They just stood there in their crisp uniforms watching the scene unfold, their eyes looking straight forward.
“Monica!” I yelled, the words ripping through my throat.
No response.
A sob racks between my ribs and I feel rough hands reach for my arms but I grip her, pressing my forehead against hers. My body trembles and I grimace her blood sticking to me. I rock her body back and forth, singing our song into her ear.
With a quiet breath, I pulled Monica close to my chest and placed my cheek on hers. She was already chillingly cold.
When I went to bed that night all I could picture was Monica’s slumped body in my arms. I couldn’t sleep that much and kept tossing and turning.
Then an alarm goes off right in my left ear. I groan when I hear the pulsing wail roar in a continuous beat. I rolled out of bed and landed hard on the carpet.
Wait a minute, did I just fall on the carpet?
I open my eyes quickly and then close them again, blinking away the pain the bright light brought to my head.
I pull myself up to my feet and jump back in surprise as I survey the room I’m in.
The walls are painted bright blue and the windows are draped in white curtains. A computer is on the bed and there is crumpled paper in the trash can. I steadily take a step towards the white vanity table and taped to the corner of the mirror is a smiling picture of me and my ex-boyfriend, Elmer Woolridge.
What the hell?
Before I have a chance to piece together what is going on, a tall woman with brown eyes like mine and long auburn locks walks in, it’s my aunt Harley.
I step back in horror, stumbling on my feet and I grab the nightstand before my face hits the floor.
”I’ve been calling your name for five minutes, Fawn. Come downstairs for breakfast,” she says.
“This can’t not be happening,” I whispered.
She walked over and I tried not to flinch as she placed a piece of my hair behind my ear.
“I couldn’t hear you. What did you say, Fawn?”
My palms began to become warm and moist with my sweat and the hairs on my neck stood up as my heartbeat pulsed in my blood cells and along my wrists. Then somehow it found its way up my throat and it took every ounce of my breath to speak.
“What day is it?” I choked out.
“May 13, 2023.”
The worst day of my life.
I follow my aunt down the hallway dragging my feet. As I sat down I quickly eyed the pile of mail stacked on top of the counter. I stood up quickly but my aunt was already tearing open the first one with her house key.
“Fawn Spencer!” She shouts.
“Aunt Harley I can explain!”
She gave me a piercing stare, her hands crushing the paper. “All I ever ask of you is that you get good grades and you don’t. You never do.”
“I tried my best!”
She scoffs and shakes her head at me. “Really? When? All you’ve done this semester is hang out with your friends. Don’t lie to me. We both know you could have done better.”
A single tear rolled down my cheek and I sighed. “I’m sorry.”
She throws the paper at me and turns around tripping on a pile of empty water bottles.
She turned and stared at me. Her eyes are blazing. “Didn’t I tell you to clean this up yesterday?”
I gulped. I hung out with Elmer all night yesterday and completely forgot.
“Yes but-“
“You never do anything right. You’re a piece of crap! You’re lazy and stupid and I can’t believe I’m related to you!”
Tears streamed down my face and I could hear my heart beating, the pulse echoing in my ears in tune with my steady breath. If I could run away I would.
But I can’t so I scream.
She walks over to me, poking me hard in the chest. “You should have died in that car accident, not your parents.”
My aunt continues to speak but I can’t hear her anymore. All I want to do is make her feel my pain.
This was my anger in its full form. The shadow part of me that split beneath my skin, slippery and withering, leaving me breathless and an ache that ceases to dull.
Then I leaned over and bit her lip off with my teeth. She screams, her hands going up to cover her face. I spit out her skin and took the fork off the dining table and pierced her chest with it, shredding flesh and smearing blood until I saw bone.
I reach inside and pull out her heart, sinking my teeth into the tender muscle.
I was expecting her heart to be bitter and have a horrible aftertaste but it was strangely sweet.
My vision blurs and I drop to the floor, sobbing into my hands, my lower lip covered in snot.
What have I done? What. Have I. Done?
I wake up with an ache in my shoulder and my nose stuffed. The alarm on my phone goes off and I groan.
Wait a minute. I thought. No. No. No.
I clamp my eyes shut and then open them again. Blue walls, I’m still in the past.
But how? And why me?
I quickly get out of bed and take a shower. Then I pick up my phone and call Elmer.
“I have no time to explain. Can you please pick me up? Now.”
“Yeah, I’ll be on my way.”
My aunt walks into my room. ”I’ve been calling your name for five minutes, Fawn. Come downstairs for breakfast,” she says.
I grab my bag and kiss her on the cheek. “I would but I already promised Elmer that I would have breakfast with him. See you later.”
Then I push past her and run out the door.
“Okay, honey! Be back before four!” She yells behind me.
Elmer is already in the front yard in his gray Ford Mustang.
I kiss him on the lips as I slip inside. “Thank you for picking me up.”
He smiles at me, his dark hair just falling right above his green eyes. “Anything for you babe. So where are we going?”
“Anywhere but here,” I say.
As Elmer drives the car into the street, I see my aunt marching towards us with an opened envelope and paper in her hand. I face forward and pretend not to see her.
Elmer checks his rearview mirror. “Fawn, your aunt is following us.”
“Just keep driving.”
“I don’t know, she looks pretty upset.”
“Who cares?”
Then my aunt starts yelling. “You ungrateful child. Did you think I wouldn’t find out?!”
I hold on to my seat belt desperately trying to find a way out of this. “Can you please move the car?” I say to Elmer.
“Maybe you should talk to your Aunt first.”
“You don’t understand. I can’t.”
Then I reached over and pressed the gas with my foot not caring I was crushing Elmer’s toes in the process but on the way, I accidentally put the car into reverse and we’re speeding towards my aunt.
“Fawn! What are you doing?!”
“I don’t know! I must have switched gears by accident.”
“Stop the car!” Elmer shouts, frantically looking behind him.
“My foot’s stuck!”
And then there it was again. A subtle rage, a ghostly hand pulling me under, my hurt raw and bleeding, all my trauma rendering bright crimson.
My aunt is still in the street with a warning glare in her eyes. Then there’s a loud thud and the tires screech.
Elmer and I quickly jumped out of the car and saw my aunt’s feet sticking out from underneath the car.
Elmer drops to his knees, his shoulders trembling. “Oh my god, Fawn…what did you do?”
Then everything blurs and the world around me starts spinning.
I wake up in my bed, with walls painted bright blue, a headache, and a throbbing ankle. I rip my blankets off of me, relinquishing the warmth and stumble out of my bed, gasping for air as my chest caves in.
What was happening to me?
I stagger to the bathroom, trying to breathe but failing miserably. Discomfort eats away at me and I’m sure this is how I’ll die. I drag myself against the cold linoleum tiles, slowly rising as I grip the edges of my porcelain sink.
My reflection in the mirror is shadow, splitting, tearing, cracking through me. I stare at the pill bottles. The ones I don’t take because they are me feel numb.
The ones I don’t take because I thought I was strong enough to fight this on my own.
Depression is like a flood, an open wound. This is what I tell myself as I shove two small blue pills into my mouth. They scrape my throat as they go down and I shudder from the aftertaste. When I blink my aunt is standing in the doorway wearing her work clothes.
Her eyes bloodshot, and sleepy, the dark ridges underneath, so dark and vibrant it looks as if she’s been punched in the face. Her jaw twitched, a mouth in a scowl as she crossed her arms against her chest.
“When were you going to tell me that there’s a hole in the wall?” She asked me, a slight twinge of irritation in her voice.
I blink at her, frowning. “What hole?” I asked her.
She spits at me, letting out a long and sharp breath. “Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. The hole you and dumb boyfriend made yesterday after he idiotically broke the door stomper. I’m going to make you fix that hole,”’she snaps.
“Oh,” I say, holding my tongue. The memory comes back to me now but telling her it was just an accident will just make her more mad.
Prolonged and intensely milky, my vision blurs, warped and pulsing like a throbbing laceration, venturing into a dark hurt. I breathe deeply, digging my fingernails into my palms. I watched as the puff of her body hardened to a crisp iciness, unsettling into the wrinkle of her forehead as she pressed her fingers into her temple.
I wondered if she saw the same wintry dark that I felt.
“Breakfast is ready. Come downstairs,” she finally says before leaving me alone.
I exhale, collapsing to the floor. The tears trickle down into my face before I realize it, hot and fast. I think about my parents and how I thought no one could be any worse than them but I was wrong.
The darkness swallowed them whole, trying to erase the family I came from. Legacies, generations of stern tones, sharp fists, verbal slices that churned up violence, vengeance, hate. It bleed into my bones, a bloodline I couldn’t run away from, cutting into me, a blistering scab of elevation demanding me to fall at their feet.
My lungs made every attempt to draw air from battered lungs, cells and tissue no longer stitched together. There’s a raging storm in my chest that never settles down, the white of my eyes tiny blossoms searching for every reason to let go but also digging for every reason not to.
THE END.