Fading Light (A Short Story)

As I lay there, though my eyes are closed, I can see you. You recoil at the bite of my icy cold skin. It upsets me, but I understand — you’re not used to seeing me like this. In this state.

A tear rolls down your flushed cheek, but you’re too focussed on me to notice. I wish I could wipe it away for you. I see you’re wearing the dress that I helped Dad pick out for you at that shop you love. It suits you. I do feel guilty for always teasing you about shopping there, but you never had the money to go elsewhere. Something else I let you down on — the promise of giving you a comfortable life was swept away as my selfish needs came first. Again. Not that that ever changed your love for me — unwavering.

Graeme and Todd came by this morning — it’s the first time I’ve seen either of them since the crash. They both came out okay — I don’t resent them for that. They told me you felt differently though, that you weren’t speaking to them — please don’t blame them. I took the pills, it’s my fault.

Even though I’m not here, the horrors of that night still haunt me — her eyes, Mum. Her eyes were the last thing I remember. What did I do? You won’t mention it, but Graeme and Todd told me what I did.

That poor little girl.

Her family.

I’m a monster…

There’s a figure in the shadows. I can see it in the corner of my eye. It’s following me, watching me. I don’t know what it wants Mum, but I don’t like it. Is this my punishment? Please help me Mum.

Wait — it’s telling me something. I think it wants me to go with it. I can’t tell — its voice is distorted and hard to understand, like the sound of marbles rolling about in your hand.

I have to go now Mum. Take care of Dad.

The light is growing dimmer now. I’m following the figure — everything is fading, except the croaking. There’s a horrible, musty smell, but I don’t care. I don’t even feel anymore. Why don’t I feel?

It’s dark now, so dark…