Today was not different.

I woke up, struggled to get out of my lover’s embrace, went to the bathroom, took a shower, prepared our breakfast -making sure that I somehow managed to add all the ingredients and condiments Kookie had been telling me he craved- and waited for the heavenly-scented mix to cook.

Today, as it was no different, Kookie emerged from the doorway. He waddled into the kitchen, his feet carrying him swiftly across the tiled floor and dressed in a t-shirt and a pair of light blue jeans -a colour which definitely suited him well -though what did not.

His warm chest pressed against my back as he hummed a tune into my hair, making me feel content, protected, happy.

Today was just not different.

And it was wrong.

So wrong I felt my head spin, my insides collapse on themselves, my mind churn in agony.

And for the first time in nine days…

I remembered.

Clothes scattered everywhere, broken pieces of chair lingering on the kitchen counter and the floor. The carpet was darkened in some places were mounds of ashes lied. The bookshelves were striped out of their books, ripped pages flew around me as I swiftly moved about.

My right ear picked up a small sound, almost inaudible, emanating from my bedroom. A whining.

Oh no.

At the doorway, I saw him. His limbs falling down from the doorway, his collar attached to the window frame. The scenery screamed crimson red.

But I was mute.

You know that, when people tell you that they see something so terrifying that they freeze, I can say it is no urban legend. There is a certain amount of time -different for anyone- where the horror of the scene unfolding before them needs to sink in before they can take control of their limbs again.

And when they do, it is usually too late.

I remember, that was me.

This is how the police found me when they arrived at my apartment; standing in the doorway, rigid as a stone, facing my window, and him.

You know that, when people tell you about the most horrible things that they have seen, some shudder in fright, but others laugh? The shock might be so powerful on the brain that your grey matter cannot make the proper links and decide what is wrong to laugh at and what is not. Though it is only a small and rarely permanent kind of sociopathy, it often leads to both physical and societal confinement.

And I know. I know what it is because I remembered being in this infinitesimal percentage of society.

But the brain is a complicated machine, isn’t it? Creating different scenarii in your head to help you deal with the emotional hardships. Complicated and powerful, isn’t it?

I remembered how strong my family used to be.

Because you may forget. Your brain may decide to alter your perception, your reality, your memories. Not everything, but just enough to make you feel normal again so you can fit in.

Had I even left my apartment after this massacre? Was Kookie all but an hallucination? The dream of a reincarnation for my deceased cat?

But when reality hits you. You feel conflicted, was this all just a lie then? Is this reality? Or is the world you have escaped from, or been removed from the only consistent truth?

Then, doubts come. Through the thick fog of query, you wonder about the certainty of your life, what it has been, what it may be.

I remembered my mother.

Some decide to live with the holes of their memory, others fill them with what remains of happiness they have.

However, when you know that the joy you have felt is unfounded, what sort of refuge is there left for your mind?

Sadness.

I remembered my mother’s grave… The one I had never visited.

Because in this instant when you are trapped in this inner-turmoil of abomination and revulsion, you only wish that you did not have to live it alone.

Alone. I woke up alone the next day. There was no one in my life and there was never someone.

But then…

Then, how did this ticket for a flight to my hometown had ended up clutched into my hand?

The end.

 

Hi my dearest readers!

I must assume that this is not the ending most of you were waiting for. (Even though the warnings of the past chapter and this one might have gave it away.)

Before I thank you all for reading this, I want to very openly admit that my knowledge in traumatic experiences is very limited. I have been surrounded with people who have been through some grotesque things in their lives but I have never been through this myself. Therefore, if this is not a perfect representation of what you or an acquaintance of yours have lived through, please do not take my words as gospel.
As I said, everybody experiences things differently and deals with them undoubtedly differently as well.

I, in no way, presume to be a psychiatrist. I would even say that my knowledge of the brain is still pretty limited. However, if any of you do feel like opening up about your life, remember that I am there to listen to you.

Lastly, thank you to everyone who has been reading this story! I am very glad you put up with me until the last chapter!
I hope you enjoyed it! I had a lot of fun writing it (yes, even this last chapter).

I hope all of you have an amazing day and a superb 2019! I am looking forward to writing many more stories in the future, hopefully some more light-hearted ones as well!

From the bottom of my heart, thank you.
- FrenchieAuthor