Chapter 8

She hangs on for dear life as she suffers inside.

Chapter Eight

Dear Life

 

            Darkness covered the world. Rain fell, pounding on the pavement, drenching the world with sadness. Arachne wandered aimlessly in the rain, getting herself soaked from head to toe. She shivered slightly as a chill from a raindrop ran down her spine. She looked up. The sky was thick with clouds that looked like smoke from a fire. It looked as if it might never stop.

            Arachne bowed her head solemnly, her wet hair falling over her pale face.

Why? Why did it have to be my fault? Why did Viola have to die because of me? I wish…I wish she was here. I’m breaking down without her. She was the only thing…person that managed to ever keep me sane.

            Arachne sighed, backing herself up against the alley wall. She fell down on her pride softly and hugged her legs to her chest. She placed her face in her folded arms as hot, bitter tears ran down her cheeks. The rain pounded down even harder. Arachne’s heart was aching. She felt so lonely. She wanted someone in her life, someone to comfort her, someone who…understood. Her muffled sobs and whimpers echoed into the night. Arachne wailed and cried. Her soul heaved and hurt. She wept, feeling so melancholy.

            She felt so…exhausted; the fight and the girl had tired her out, completely drained her of all her juice.

I’m…going to…lay down…for one…minute…

            Arachne laid herself on the damp pavement. She was suddenly sleeping soundly, her dreams rampaged with horrible images of Viola dying over and over…and Arachne couldn’t stop it…

 

_____

 

            The rain soon stopped, coming to a light drizzle. A foggy mist had settled over the city. The clouds clogged out every ray the sun tried to shed. When Willow awoke, everything looked just like a black-and-white movie.

            Willow quickly returned to her room, climbing up the thick growth of ivy that stretched all the way to her very window. Willow’s sleep was horrible; nightmares of Viola in her head repeated, the events scarring her broken soul.

            She dried herself off with a ragged gray towel, throwing it carelessly onto the black carpeting. She slipped on an unused black silk nightgown that Aggie had purchased for her the year before. Collapsing on her bed, Willow snuggled into the freshly laundered sheets. They smelled faintly of lavender. Willow lay with her eyes closed, thinking only of Viola. She turned her head and dug her nose into her pillow and inhaled a deep breath.

            The crimson pillowcase smelled exactly like rosewater. It was heaven She inhaled deeply. Soon, Willow was yawning in the sweet scent, stretching and relaxing herself. It all felt so good after sleeping for about two hours on hard concrete.

            A few seconds later, Willow felt herself drifting off. Somehow, roses reminded Willow of her mother.

            That’s who she dreamed about that night…

 

            Willow dreamt that once again she was falling into darkness, nothingness, but this time it was warm and welcoming. She let herself fade into it. Suddenly, there was a faint scent, a warm, flowery smell. She landed on the ground and looked around her. Willow’s surroundings consisted of a strangely familiar place…she knew what it was, but wasn’t able to place it.

            The scent grew stronger as she approached a doorway. She breathed it in deeply. Once Willow was in the doorway, she pushed the door open farther. Then, the smell was at full blast. Someone was standing in the room, and as Willow slowly opened the door, her breath caught in her throat.

            “M-m…mom?” she called meekly.

            The person beside the bed was folding clothes in the last rays of the sun that flooded in through a window. Lily looked up at Willow, and, noticing her, smiled a smile as bright as the sun. Her beautiful honey-gold hair shone in the light. Her fair face glowed lovingly.

            “Hello, Willow.”

            Willow entered the room slowly and breathlessly. She stopped adruptly a few feet before Lily.

            “Mom? Is it really y-you?”

            “Yes…it’s me. Come here,” Lily replied warmly, opening her arms wide with a big smile on her face.

            Willow ran into Lily’s arms and sobbed hysterically, whimpering and wailing.

            “M-mom, I-I’ve m-m-missed you so…much…,” she said through her tears, burying her face into her mother’s neck, taking in a breath of her mother’s perfume.

            “Me, too. It’s okay…I’m here now. I won’t ever leave your side.”

            Willow stared up at Lily like a child. “How can you be? Y-you’re…you’re…dead,” whispered Willow softly.

            “Not as long as you remember me, Willow. I’ll always be in your heart…always.”

            “Mom…please don’t leave me! I love you…and I’m sorry I never got to say that to you before you died! I’m sorry I was such a brat to you! It’s my fault you’re dead!”

            “Willow, I love you, too, and I forgive you for what you did. It wasn’t your fault. Never your fault…it was mine…I was protecting you when I was killed.”

            “You were? From…from what?”

            “Your father…he knows about you. He wanted you…for some government project. He sent one of his men after me to retrieve you. When I refused, killed me…”

            “N-no, it can’t be true! It isn’t! Please tell me it isn’t!”

            “It is, Willow…it will never, ever be your fault…never…”

            Just then, there was a breaking of glass. Lily and Willow pulled away from the embrace and turned towards the window. A surprised, but determined, expression on Lily’s face appeared.

            “Go, Willow.”

            When she didn’t move, Lily shouted.

            “WILLOW, GO! He’s here for you!”

            “Mom, no�"”

            “Willow, do as I SAY! GO!”

            Willow ran to the door, but in time to hear a gunshot ring out. She swerved around. The man was gone and Lily’s body was lying lifelessly on the ground…dead.

            “Mom, please! Not again! Not again!”

            But before Willow could even touch her mother’s body, she was sucked away as the scene faded into darkness…

 

_____

 

            Rain poured down, pounding on the pavement and pattering lightly on the leaves of the trees and plants outside. After a few hours had passed, the constant rain dulled down to a slight drizzle, sprinkling water lightly on everything. Mist lurked in every corner of Crescent City, curling up in the most unlikely places.

            When Willow awoke adruptly from her dream, or nightmare, the world outside was drenched. Willow shot up suddenly. The faint smell of roses lingered in her nostrils She placed a hand to her cheek and pulled it away. It was wet. She had been crying in her sleep. Lying down calmly, Willow mulled over the dream.

            What was she trying to tell me? How could she come back? Was I really touching Mom or was it all an illusion? I wonder if she was trying to tell me something important…

            Willow thought back to the night she had been in the Cemetery, crying over everything, including the fact that she seemed to have found something horrible earlier that night…

Wait a minute…that guy in the ski mask said something weird. I must have forgotten about it.

“Severin Struthers. He told me to say that he sends his best wishes to his daughter.”

            Willow widened her eyes. She had figured it out.

Why didn’t I think of it before? It’s impossible…it’s not true…it can’t be…

            She slowly arose from the softness of her bed and began to pace.

But it all fits…why would my own father, Severin Struthers, attack me? Why? Aren’t I his daughter? Does he hate me? I wonder…he killed Mom and why that? Why does he want me? For his own damn selfish reasons? If I meant anything to him, he would’ve…no, he killed Mom…he doesn’t care about me. He just wants me to suffer as much as possible.

            She stopped pacing and stared out the window. She narrowed her eyes slightly, her hands balancing her body on the sill of the open window.

            Willow looked out over the world from her window that was high up near an ancient oak tree that had been there long before the house had been built. The world was a black-and-white movie; everything was dreary and drained of its color. She preferred this weather to other types because it seemed to fit her personality.

            Viola said something about my father before she died. She said he had a plan for me. So…I don’t know what to think.

She glanced down, tears rolling down her face and her nose, falling off the tip. Others clung for dear life on her long, black lashes. She exhaled a shuddering breath and shivered slightly from the chill in the November, clutching her bare arms and rubbing them up and down. Goosebumps erupted everywhere.

I can’t really blame myself, but it is my fault Viola died. Severin was after me. He had Viola killed to get her out of the way. He had her killed because I told my secret to her…it is my fault…all my fault…

            At this, Willow wept even harder than before, letting out shaky breaths. She felt her nose running. She snorted quietly to stop it.  Willow sucked in a breath and managed to clog the flow of tears that were flowing nonstop from her eyes. She wiped them with her bare arm. She straightened up, her fists clenched.

I’ve got to be vigilant. I can’t be off my guard. I’ve got to be careful about who I trust, careful about what I say. He may be watching my every move. He’ll be waiting for me to slip up. I won’t ever mess up… not now…

She scowled at the thought of her father.

            Not ever.

 

_____

           

            Rain fell ever so softly, pattering quietly on the sidewalk, plants, and cars. A thick covering of mist soon draped itself over Crescent City. The clouds in the sky shifted in the wind and turned from a vivid black to a boring gray.

            Al woke up groggy, slowly opening his eyes. Memories of Willow and the almost-kiss flooded back to him from the day before. He grimaced at the thought. Things had not gone according to plan.

But that’s life. Life is supposed to be unexpected and unfair.

Then there came a light tap from his door.

            “Yeah?”

            His mom poked her head in. “Oh good, you’re up. Why don’t you get dressed and come down for breakfast?”

            “Sure. I’ll be down in a minute.”

            “Alright,” she said, closing the door but opening it once more. “Do you happen to know the times of the funeral again?”

            “Mom, I thought you knew!”

            “I…I forgot.”

            “It’s from nine to ten, Mom. Can I get dressed, now?”

            “Oh…uh, alright.”

            She closed the door as Al went to his closet to get black attire. A strange, melancholy feeling overtook him and glazed his eyes over in sadness. Things just feel so different without Viola here. I wish that Willow would just talk to me.

            Then, an idea sparked in Al’s mind and he grinned a Cheshire grin.

            “Yeah, that’s it!”

            Still in his boxers, Al stumbled over to the phone in his bedroom, still half-asleep. He picked up the cordless and pressed Willow’s number in. It seemed to take at least a million years for him to dial and for the other end to ring.

            Ring…ring…ring…ring…ring…ring…

            Then someone finally picked up.

            “Yeah?”

            “Willow? I-is that you?”

            “Who are you and what do you want?” she snapped, practically biting his head off, or in this case, his ear.

            “Okay, who are you and what have you done with Willow?”

            “A-Al? Is that y-you?” she said breathlessly.

            “Who does it sound like?”

            Willow nervously chuckled. He heard her sigh softly in the background. Willow’s breath tickled the phone, crackling it a bit.

            “Well…I don’t know what to say.”

            “Then don’t say anything at all.”

            This time she laughed, almost heartily. Allister couldn’t help but love her laugh. It sounded something like chiming bells. He smiled, his heart thumping harder than usual. He just loved to make her laugh.

            She stopped suddenly with another sigh.

            “Seriously, Al, I…I don’t know what to say to you. After what happened yesterday and the whole thing about Viola, well…I don’t know.”

            This followed an awkward silence, which was only broken by the inhale and exhale of Willow’s breathing. Yes, things had definitely separated them with Vi’s death, especially the almost-kiss. That especially was very awkward indeed.

            Al finally broke the silence.

            “Well…I’m sorry that I can’t…understand what it’s like to loose someone. My goldfish died once when I was little. Does that help?”

            She laughed, her voice tinkling pleasurably.

            “Thanks, Al…but, not really. Thanks, though. I’ll…see you at the funeral, okay?”

            “Well…okay. See you.”

            The phone clicked just as the dial tone began to hum once more. Allister hung up, placing the phone in its place just as it beeped. That feeling of melancholy washed over him again as he thought of Willow.

Things are just so hard now. I don’t know what to do. It’s just so weird. Everything is weird. I wish Willow would talk to me. I don’t want to push her too much.

            Al slipped on a black sweater over his head and a pair of battered black jeans. He looked sullenly out the window and wasn’t surprised at all that it had been raining; and still was, apparently, just very lightly. Ironically, the weather always seemed to fit his mood. This time, it was reflecting his sadness over Vi’s death. So much had happened in the last twenty-four hours that he couldn’t clear his mind of all of it. It seemed all so sudden and so rash.

            I hope Willow’s okay.

            Then, we went down for breakfast.

 

_____

 

            He just had to bring her up, now didn’t he?

            Tears slipped down Willow’s pale cheeks once more. Her ashen hair fell past her face. She sniffed sullenly and blew her nose into a stray tissue. She balled it up with one fist and aimed for the trash can. Missing, the tissue fell down beside the black container, lying there lifelessly.

It was bound to come up anyway. I can’t keep ignoring the fact that Vi’s dead. Or that her death was my fault…all my fault. I can’t get into this now. I have to prepare.

            She arose from the sheets of her bed and made her way to her closet, which was bombarded with dark-colored clothes ranging from midnight-blue to black. She sifted silently through each hanger. One held an unworn black jean skirt, another a frilly black shirt.

Too wimpy…too stupid…too ridiculous…jeez, I have nothing!

            Finally, Willow chose the black skirt topped off with a midnight-blue turtleneck. The skirt was finished with a black belt that held a bright red bloodstone; it glowed in the few rays that came from the sun through the thick array of clouds.

            She clasped an old style necklace around her neck that had yet another bloodstone on it paired with a pair of bloodstone dangly earring that shook every time Willow moved. These items had once belonged to her mother, whom Willow had now discovered that her father, Severin Struthers, had murdered with a gunshot wound in order to get to Willow for some unknown purpose. That was what Willow wanted to know desperately.

            Willow slipped on a pair of long black boots that extended to her knees to complete the look. She looked in the dusty mirror in her closet and scowled slightly.

            “At least I’m decent,” she muttered under her breath to herself. She glanced for a moment at her chipped black fingernail polish. She sat down at her desk to reapply it.

            The strong smell of the polish filled the room. Willow coughed slightly and turned on her overhead fan. It turned slowly, creating a light breeze that was fairly pleasant. Willow continued to concentrate on her long nails, carefully applying the polish so that it looked almost professional. Blowing at her nails, she lifted them to eye-view and examined them. She shrugged and shoved away the nail polish.

            A light knock came from her door.

            “What?” she snapped, averting her gaze to the door. The door opened slightly and Agatha poked her head in.

            “Everything al�"What in the world is that smell?”

            She picked up the bottle and shook it around.

            “Why do you need to wear that?”

            “Because I feel like it, okay?” Willow barked, shooting straight up from her chair and thrusting her face in front of hers.

            “Alright, alright, no need to be snappy. I just wanted to know if you’re ready.”

            “Almost…go away.”

            “Fine.”

            Aggie slammed the door shut behind her, leaving the walls and the shelves on them rattling in its wake.

            Willow slumped down in her chair, folding her arms and shoving her face in them.

Why can’t they just leave me be? I wish Viola was here. She’d know what to do…what to say. But she’s gone because of me.

            Like so many times during those past twenty-four hours, tears slowly rolled down her cheeks. It seemed to Willow that not enough tears could be shed, that everything was wrong. That she was born with this kind of luck. Reoccurring bad luck.

            Her heart began to ache and beat furiously. Though Willow knew her face was probably beet red, she was just so absorbed in her own self-pity that she didn’t even notice how out of control she was. She sobbed madly, whimpering softly. Everything hurt; nothing spared anything. It was like the world was constantly stabbing her in the heart. It hurt so much. She couldn’t control it, for the pain was too much.

             Willow ran over to her bed and threw herself onto it. She wept into her pillow. She whimpered once more. Feeling utterly breathless, the loneliness within her very heart and soul began to consume her. A feeling of dread started to creep upon her. She let the tears flow from her eyes like excess blood from a fatal wound to the body. Willow was slowly dying, drowning in the berth of her own darkness once again…

Author's Note

I don't know why the text is in different sizes. xD
It's only going to get darker in the story from here on out. Enjoy the next installment, my dear readers. :)