Gloria, Petri & I

I love classical music, I love Shepherd Pie and I love Petri. My love for Gloria is a feeling I've never felt before. I feel I must protect her. I feel I must fight for her. I love you Gloria.

Monday, 4th of August.

I live but not on my own. My dear Petri stays close to my side and will never leave as I will never leave Petri. Petri stares at me with eyes so pure and kisses me with such affection that I can only return and hope to portray the same love. Petri is mine and always will be. I am Petri’s and always will be. I sit alone in a room lit by just one lamp whilst the radio soothes us both. I have no television as soap operas do not entertain me. I own various books but never learnt to read. This is a shame to me however I do still try. I do not work due to my mild tourettes. It’s not the type to make me swear uncontrollably or have spasms with my limbs but the type to speak my mind even when unnecessary. I also suffer from Asperges Syndrome which cripples me to this settee with Petri. The outside worries me as it is filled with rapists and murderers of which I want to be a victim of none. Petri protects me from any evil, I love Petri. The time is 5:43 pm which tells me it is time for dinner. I gently remove Petri from my lap and walk to the kitchen where I shall prepare dinner for us. I open the kitchen cupboards and see packs of Shepherds Pie’s waiting to be microwaved. I buy these in bulk from my local shop and because the owner is aware of my disabilities he gets his son Amar to deliver them to me. I always leave Amar a tip of £5. After 6 minutes my Meal is complete and I dance around the kitchen preparing it for me and Petri whilst Edward Elgar’s Symphony number 1 is playing. At this present time he is my favourite composer. He transposes me to another world of which I am fully abled and can converse with neighbours of my flat. I can leave my small dark flat and say ‘Hello’ to Jack, the fat italian man who lives below and give sweets to Mrs McDowells children who will worship my presence and tell heroic stories of me to their friends and I will not only be loved by people but people will know of my existence. A shrug at the leg from Petri awakes me from my day dream and I take two plates of Shepherd Pie to the settee. Petri wastes no time in eating. I stare at mine and stab my fork into it thinking of how nobody would know if I would take my own life. I often think about this and the different ways in which I could do it. I own a belt so I could tie that around the doorframe and hang myself. Or I could overdose on some of my medication. I own both a bath and a toaster so theres another potential way. Nobody would know of my perish apart from Petri. Petri would miss me dearly. I would miss Petri. Petri is the only reason I am alive. 

Tuesday, 5th of August.

Its 8:38 am and I rise from my bed and pulls myself to the shower where I cleanse myself from any night time sweat or dirt. The shower starts cold on my back but the temperature rises. I have two minutes to enjoy the warm water before it turns so hot it scolds me. My shower has been faulty for years but I am too scared of Plumbers to do anything about it. Plumbers tend to be big men that have laboured their whole life and live with built up hate. The perfect motive to be a murdered or a rapists. I dress myself in the same attire; my grey t-shirt and my black shorts. Petri leads the way to the front room where we sit on the settee wasting another day. I put the radio on and close my eyes. I am transported to my other world. I am a successful business man driving for miles in my red convertible. The brand of car is not clear to me but I know the car goes fast. I am driving down an empty road at full speed. Edward Elgar is still blasting through the car speakers. The wind is blowing through my hair. I look to the side of the road and see endless fields of grass and trees. The sky is a perfect shade of blue with no clouds to be seen. The air smells of nothing which in turn smells beautiful. There is no smell of cigarette smoke or cheap perfume or any sign of pollution. Just myself on this open road which never seems to end. But then I see something in the distance; a silhouette of a person. The sex of this person is unclear to myself. I race as fast as I can to find this person. For all the years I have visited this world I have never seen another person before. The mystery of this person is painful. It seems every mile I get closer they move further way. We are perfectly parallel from each other. It dawns on me that there is the possibility I will never meet this strange figure. I sound the horn to let the person know I am here to save them but no sound comes from it. I try repeatedly but still no sound comes. A tear rolls from my eye as I scream ‘HELLO!’ I shout, hoping they can hear me. I try with all my might for at least someone other than Petri will know of my existence. The figure evidently does not hear me. I am taken from my own world to engage back in the real world. Petri is kissing my face. These sign of affections warm my heart. There may be a mythical figure in my own world but Petri is the only other I need in my life. Petri always smells nice. Petri’s scent takes me to a safe haven if my panic attacks become to major for me to control. Petri knows how to keep me safe from any situation and has saved my life many times both metaphorically and literally. I open the door to my small balcony where Petri lays in the cool air soaking in all of its nutrients. I feel bad that because of my disabilities Petri does not experience a normal life. I apologise to Petri countless times but I am only ever replied with by a kiss. I hope Petri can forgive me. The time is now 4:21 pm. I walk to the cupboards once again and get another Shepherds Pie out. For 6 minutes I am weightless as Arvo Pärt’s ‘Alina’ plays in the background. My wings have come through my t-shirts and I am flying through the room. I am a feather floating around the kitchen. What feels like a matter of seconds passed by and the microwave let out an alarm noise to tell me that 6 minutes has passed. I am over 12 stone now and my feet are rooted to the floor. I look around and see I have knocked a few utensils to the ground whilst mid flight. I pick them up and serve dinner for me and Petri. It’s 6:24 pm and I am washing the remainder of the Shepherds Pie off the plates. I watch as peas and carrots fall down the drain and I am filled with curiosity. I look at my hands and watch as they shrink to the size of a grain of rice. I look down at my feet and then back at my hands. They are now appropriately sized. I look around and notice that the kitchen has increased vastly in size. I hear a waterfall close to me. Surely it has to be my imagination? A waterfall in my kitchen is a preposterous idea. I turn to my right and notice it is the water running from my tap. I look down and see that the drain is inches from my feet. I have shrunk to the size of a pea and can finally cure my curiosity. I hold my breath and jump down the drain. It is an endless fall. It is nothing but darkness. I can’t see anything. I can’t smell anything. I can’t feel anything. But I can hear something quite faint. It is a female voice. I can’t make out if she is talking or singing. It becomes a bit clearer and she is singing. Her voice is angelic. Not a note out of place. I scream ‘HELLO’ once again to make my presence clear to her but my throat gives away no sound. I hold my neck to feel if there is any vibrations coming from it but there isn’t. I am panicking now. I am flailing out my arms and legs to reach onto something. Her voice gradually glides away as does my breath. I feel a nip at my calf and I raise my head. I am back to my normal size and back in my kitchen. Petri is pulling at my leg. My head is soaking wet and bleeding. I evaluate the situation. The tap is still running. I must have had my face pressed to the drain and hit my head when awaking from my day dream. A tear rolls from my eye. It’s not to do with the pain from my head but to do with the fact I will never be normal. 

Wednesday, 6th of August

My milk goes out of date today. I look at the milk carton as I sip from my morning tea. I must ring Patel and place my order. It will be nice to see Amar again. I only see him once a month and it’s a great pleasure for me to see how much he’s grown. Amar doesn’t speak to me much when he delivers my food. He normally has one headphone in and is talking to another friend on his phone. I own a mobile phone. It contains one contact; Patel. I sometimes think of asking Amar for his number but the fear of rejection destroys me. Amar is too cool to speak to me. I understand that. I look in my cupboards and notice I only have 7 Shepherd Pies left. I make a note on a piece of paper to order another 20. I also need more teabags, more sugar, 4 cartons of milk, £20 worth of electricity and some pickled onion crisps. The total will come to roughly £45 including Amars tip. I get my mobile phone and dial Patels phone. He answers as he always does, ‘Hello my dear friend!’. He is always happy. The fact he calls me his friend lights me up inside and I let out a giddy laugh. I respond with ‘Hello Patel, I would like to place an order please’.  We converse and it goes as following:

‘Would you like your normal?’

‘And £20 electric please, I believe you still have the key?’ 

‘I certainly do my good friend,’ another giddy laugh from myself ‘Why don’t you come to the shop yourself?’ 

‘I would love to Patel but your floors are sticky and the neighbourhood is horrible’ I cover my mouth and apologise for what I just said. I blame it on the tourettes. There is an awkward silence and Patel then finishes with ‘I’ll send your items straight away’

‘Thank you’

‘Thanking you dear friend’

The call then disconnects. 

I sit and wait in anticipation. Amar will be here soon. Amar has come here 19 times now. I am gradually building a relationship with him and on his 15th trip I managed to greet him and ask if he was ok. He responded with ‘I’m good thanks, yourself?’. I stuttered and failed to respond. The next few visits I decided against asking him again until I was confident enough to reply. I felt that on this trip I would ask him again and be able to reply. I had written it down on the palm of my hand in case I forgot it. I looked at the palm of my hand and could read the word ‘good’. I watched the clock hit 5 o’clock and I keenly waited by the front door. There was a knock. Just a single knock. This threw me off course. Amar always knocks twice followed by a delayed third. I raise my eye to the peep hole and see a baseball cap. I’ve never known Amar to wear a hat. It must be a phase he is going through. I can see there are blue carrier bags beside him which contain my groceries. I unlock the 4 locks on my door and open it. 

‘Hullo’ grunts an unfamiliar voice. I look in amazement as this strange figure stands at my door. ‘Is this number 10?’. I am speechless. I nod to indicate it is. The stranger then pushes past me and walks into the kitchen where she places the carrier bags on my side. 

‘That’ll be £38.73 please.’ My hands stay firmly by my side. I am shaking. I closely examine her face. She has a lip piercing on the bottom of her lip. Her dirty blonde hair drapes through her baseball cap. She has a hole stretched in her right ear lobe and her eyebrows are untamed. Her eyes are black and her lips are red. Her face is pale which tells me she doesn’t wear that much make up. I slyly look lower down and see her top reveals her belly button which is also pierced. She is wearing black jeans and scruffy looking trainers. She is chewing gum rather loudly. She places out her hand waiting for the money. I look back at her face and nod again. I turn to walk towards the settee where my wallet is kept. I am still stunned and speechless. 

‘It’s a lovely house you have here’ She compliments me as I return with my wallet in hand.

‘How big is your hole?’ I reply; not intentionally. She is taken back by my question. I look down at my feet red faced. I am hoping Patel has told her about my tourettes. She finally laughs it off and replies ‘10 millimetres’. I look back up and see she is rooting through her pockets for the change I am owed.  ‘Don’t worry about it’ I say coyly. She looks at me for a last time and blows me a kiss giggling. I’m not sure whether she is being friendly or mocking me. She skips out of my flat and disappears from my sight. I lock the front door and sit on the ground. I lock sight with my wallet which is sat on the dining room table and notice it is atop the crisp five pound note I had ready for Amar. It rightfully belongs to this strange girl now. I know not of her name. I picture her face and try to place a name next to it. 

Shannon? No. 

Hillary? No.  

Elizabeth? No.

Sadie? No.

Hannah? No.

Gloria? Yes. 

Gloria suits her picturesque face. Gloria’s eyes are deeper than any ocean and hold a key to a thousand stories I am longing to hear. Her lips are untouched by any being and are crying out to me to be caressed. Her hands are the perfect size for me to cup mine around. I will learn every line on her hand and recite them too her. She will take my surname and we will have many abled children. Children that are always outside playing and never cooped up alone in a dark flat. Children that can control what they say and only stay in the real world. Children that have a mother named Gloria who will love each of them equally and give all her time to them. Gloria, my love. I love you Gloria. I notice the five pound note again and know that I need to give it to her. I think I have only been sitting here for a minute or so and hope I can catch her before she leaves the block of flats. I quickly rise to my feet and stare through the peephole. I have gotten up to fast and suffer from head rush. As I stare through the peephole it is black. I am staring at an alleyway where a white silhouette of a woman is running frantically whilst sobbing. I can tell it is a woman from the red lipstick and the red high heels. She stops running when she reaches a brick wall taller than she. She turns around and faces me. She looks for an escape route but can find none. I do not know why she is running away from me. I have done nothing to this being. She slouches to the ground and rests her head into her lap. Her arms are covering her head. Still staring through the peephole I get closer to her. She raises her head quickly just like a deer would if it heard a stick breaking as a hunter foot crushed it. She looks at me and stretched her arm out to grab me. I stand back. 

‘Please, help me, please’ she begs. Her voice is quiet and shaky. I try to respond but my voice has gone. 

‘Please help me, please’ she repeats. I focus on the only colour which is red. Her shoes are at different heights. Her heel must have broke whilst running. I focus on her lips. They are similar to Gloria’s apart from the piercing. In the corner of my eye I see there is another drop of red falling ever so slowly to the ground. I follow its route it came from and am drawn to the woman’s arm. She quivers and lets out a sob. Her head is again buried into her lap. Her arm have fallen lifelessly to her side. She is sobbing and muttering, I can’t hear what she is saying. She lifts her head again and screams at me. She doesn’t scream a word, just a noise. I mouth I’m sorry as I stand here helpless. 

‘This is your fault!’ She screams at me as she shows me the inside of her arms which have evidently been slashed. I let out a gasp. The blood is flowing out of her body. She repeats herself ‘This is your fault!’. She rises to her feet and staggers toward me. The lack of blood is taking its effect on her

. She stumbles from right to left. ‘Why won’t you help me?’. She is forlorn. The white ground is starting to turn red. So much so that her shoes have now blended into the ground. Her dress is turning red now. Gradually she falls to the ground and she is lost within the red which has covered the ground like a flood demolition houses. I watch on as the brick wall loses itself to the red as well. Suddenly the whole peephole is red and I am awoken by Petri who is groaning for food. 

Thursday, 7th of August

I barely slept last night. Gloria was on my mind. As I walked into the kitchen to make a tea I passed the five pound that rightfully belongs to her. I dare not touch it as it is no longer mine. I am holding it for a friend. I wander if she remembers me? Maybe someone other than Petri knows I exist now. Would she be sad if my life ended? Most likely not. I look in the  cupboards at the pile of Shepherds Pies that are stacked to the top. Then it hits me. All I have to do is place another order and she’ll be here again. In my humble home. I take all of the Shepherds Pies out and throw them away. I take a carton of milk out of the fridge and tip it down the sink. I am ready to make another order. I quickly run to my phone and dial the number. I am giddy like a school girl going on her first date.

‘Hello dear friend!’ Patel greets me in his usual manner ‘Calling already?’ 

‘Yes’ I mumble. 

‘How can I help dear friend?’ 

‘I’d like to place an order please’

‘Already?’ Patel sounded very concerned now ‘Did the girl not bring you your groceries?’ He mumbled something in his mother tongue and continued ‘I will be having words with her as soon as she gets in’

‘No!’ I shout. The last thing I wanted was Gloria to get in trouble.

‘Then what is it?’ Patel enquires.

‘I want more’ I lied.

‘But it’s only been a day?’

‘I know but I want something different’ I lied again. I hate change but if it meant seeing Gloria again I was willing to eat something new.

‘Ok’ sang Patel ‘what is it I can get for you?’

My mind went blank. All I’d ever known was Shepherds Pies and Pickled onion crisps. ‘Lasagne’ I answered.

‘How many?’ 

I didn’t actually want a Lasagne but the lies continued ‘Nine’. 

‘Anything else?’ 

‘Vodka’

‘But you are not a drinker sir’ Patel always looked out for me.

‘I am now’ I didn’t like this new me that ate lasagne’s and lied.

‘Ok sir, it’ll be on its way soon’

I hung up.

I sat waiting in my armchair for Gloria to arrive. I had another five pound note waiting to give to her. I watched the pendulum swing on my clock. They always get here at 5:30pm. It was 5:23pm. I couldn’t sit anymore. I stood up and walked to my mirror. The reflection was scraggly and weak. He had black knotted hair that rested just above his shoulders. His beard was untamed. His eyes were lonely and had no friends. This guy doesn’t eat Lasagnes and drink Vodka. This guy enjoys Edward Elgar and a weak tea with three sugars. I was comfortable with this guy. I hoped Gloria would be to. I brushed my hair and my beard to look a bit more groomed. Women like men who are groomed. Gloria will love me groomed. A familiar knock hits my front door. Two knocks and then a delayed third. My heart sinks as I peak through the peephole. It’s Amar. I unlock the door and let him in. He has a headphone in and is talking to a friend.

‘Shall I put it in the kitchen?’ He asks.

I nod to say yes. 

As he rests the carrier bags on the side I walk behind him and ask him ‘Are you ok?’. He continues talking to his friend. He mustn’t have heard me. As he turns around he is startled by how close I am to him. 

‘F**k’ he curses ‘Sorry mate, I didn’t see you there’

‘Are you Ok?’ I ask again.

Amar pulls out his headphone and replies ‘I’m good mate, how are you?’ He has a thick south London accent with a hint of Pakistani. 

‘Good’ I mutter.

‘I see you’ve got Vodka’ he laughs ‘Planning a good night?’ This is the first real conversation I have engaged in real life. 

‘No’ I answer honestly.

‘Oh’ he replies awkwardly. ‘Well, I better be off now’ He tries to glide passed me. My curiosity gets the better of me.

‘Where is the girl?’ 

‘Dad cut her hours down because she hasn’t been performing well to say the least.’ This fact hurt me. 

‘Was it because of what I had said?’ Amar has now stopped trying to escape and is leant against my wall comfortably engaging in a conversation with me. 

‘I don’t know mate,’ Amar itches his nose and looks around ‘Between me and you I don’t know how she got the job, I mean you’ve seen the state she’s in! She’s a mess! She makes the shop look like a brothel!’ I wince at every comment he says. I can feel my hands starting to clench. ‘And her reputation around the streets are starting to drive customers away and her…’ Amar continues to talk but I stop listening to him. I notice in the mirror behind him that my reflection is accompanied by another male; similar looking but with subtle differences. The other male wore his hair slicked back but kept the beard untamed. He was wearing the same top but was holding a leather jacket over his right shoulder. He had a toothpick in his mouth like the old western cowboys did. He had a scar under his eye and his eyes told stories of danger. Women would love him. Gloria would love him.  My reflection cowered in front of him. I interrupt Amar and ask ‘What reputation?’ 

‘She’s a s**t’ he informs me. I wince. ‘She sleeps with everyone! I’m sure if you invite her around with that Vodka you’ll probably end up getting lucky!’ He laughs and jokes with me like I am one of his friends on the end of one of his headphones. I stare at this other male in the mirror who is smiling at me. He waves his finger at me to tell me to go over to him. My eyes are fixed on his. I cannot control my feet. I am walking over to the mirror. I cannot see Amar’s reaction. I climb into the mirror with this strange male. He pulls me over to a red arm chair and sits me down. I try to look around but my eyes are still fixed on this marvellous being. He hands me some headphones and covers my legs with a thick woollen blanket. Music starts to flow through the headphones and it’s Edward Elgar’s second symphony. This is bliss. I am alone in a blank room with no sound but Edward Elgar’s beautifully composed masterpieces. I am sat comfortable and warm in this big chair. After several minutes I feel the urge to take the headphones off and do so. I lift the blanket off my legs and stand up from the chair. I walk to the edge of the room where I entered from. As I get closer I begin to notice the once blank wall is turning into my home. I try to walk out of the mirror just as I got in but I can’t. I knock loudly to get Amars attention so he can help me but there is no response. I try to scream to be heard but no voice leaves my throat. I’m starting to panic now. I still cannot hear anything and can make no noise of my own. I feel any strength in my legs disappear and I am suddenly sat in a ball just as the white silhouetted woman was. I can feel myself rocking back and forth. I look at my hands and notice they have splatters of red all over them. I search for cuts but cannot find any. Like being pulled out from under water, sound suddenly hits me and I am overwhelmed. Petri is yelling frantically. I can hear water flowing through the pipes as if the toilet had just been flushed. I notice that I am still in a ball near my front door. The toilet door is open and I can see feet sticking out. It must be Amar. Is he throwing up in my toilet? As I scramble to my feet I notice my hands are still covered in red. I smell it to distinguish what has happened. It smells of blood. I run to the toilet to check on Amar. His arms are hanging by each side of the toilet and his head is placed in the toilet. He doesn’t move when I tap him with my foot. Although it is obvious what has happened I cannot come to grips with the reality of the situation. This does not explain the blood on my hands though. I pull Amar’s head out of the toilet and sit him against the wall in an upright position. I see there is a knife still held in his chest. His eyelids are closed. His mouth is open. His face is motionless. His upper half is wet from toilet water and blood. I sit beside Amar in the lavatory and let the reality hit me like a train. I have so many questions. How could I have out powered Amar? How could I have the anger to commit such an awful act? Was I the strange male in the mirror? I rest my head in my lap and gently cry myself to sleep. 

Friday, 8th of August

It is 12:13pm. Henryk Górecki plays through my radio. Petri’s fast asleep on the settee. Amar is still in my lavatory and I am waiting for the kettle to boil. As I pour myself a cup of tea I hear a vibrating noise coming from somewhere. I quickly turn the radio off and listen closely. I follow the sound. It’s coming from Amars pocket. I pull out his phone. It’s Patel ringing. I stare at the caller ID showing as ‘Dad’ until he stops calling. I fall to the floor as I remember Amar is the son of Patel. Sweet lovely Patel. Patel who cares for me even though  he doesn’t need to. Patel who will hate me if he finds out I have murdered his only son. He mustn’t know I did it. I can’t tell him. I hear another vibration going off. I look at Amars phone. It’s not coming from here this time. I stand up and follow the sound. This time it’s my phone. It’s Patel. I debate whether to answer. If I don’t answer then I will look suspicious. 

‘Hello?’ I answer

‘Have you seen my son?’ Patel asks frantically. This time with no happy greeting.

‘Yesterday when he dropped my groceries off’ technically I’m not lying right now.

‘When did he leave yours?’ Patel quizzes me.

‘He didn’t stay for long, maybe five minutes after he arrived?’ this time I lied. The thing that scared me the most was how good I was getting at lying. ‘Is everything ok?’ I ask.

‘He has not returned home and none of his friends have seen him,’ Patel sounded as if he was going to cry at any moment ‘I think the last place he went was to yours’. My heart started pacing. My hands started sweating.

‘If I see him then I will call you straight away’ I tried sounding as innocent as I could.

‘Thank you, you are a very good friend’ With that Patel hung up. I wish he didn’t end with that. Now I feel guilty for murdering his son. I walk to the kitchen and place the Lasagne into the microwave. Its time for me and Petri’s dinner. 

Monday, 11th of August

It’s been three days since Amar was murdered and instead of feeling guilt I felt lonely. All I could think about was Gloria. I know that I need to ring Patels shop in order to get her to deliver my groceries but I wonder how long I have to wait. After all he will still be grieving about his son. I wander if he still has hope that Amar is still alive but has just ran away. I hope he does. Murder is such a horrible thing. As I lay listening to Beethoven’s Symphony No. 9 I get a foul whiff of an ungodly scent. I stand from my settee and follow the scent. I first check the kitchen to make sure nothing is out of date. It’s not. I follow the scent again and realise it’s coming from my bathroom. It’s Amar. The three day old corpse is starting to smell now and soon that scent will take over my flat. If Gloria smells this she will question me and she will know I killed Amar. I need to dispose of his body but how? I could throw him off my balcony but what if people see? Also the police would find him and relay it back to Patel. Patel would see that he is next to my building of flats and place the blame on me. Throwing him off the balcony would not work. I could phone the police and tell them it was suicide. But they would see the stab wounds and question why I didn’t tell them straight away. I sit down next to Amar and think as hard as I can about how I could get rid of his body. I remember that tomorrow is when the bin men collect the rubbish. All I have to do is get Amar into a bin bag and they will collect his body. It’s a perfect idea. I stand up and head to the kitchen once again where I keep my bin bags. I compare the size of Amar to the bin bag and see a flaw in my plan. He isn’t going to fit in just one bin bag. He would need to be cut up into pieces to fit in a few bin bags. I hear a moan from Petri. I look at the time; its dinner time. I’ll eat first and then think of a way. 

 Three hours passed and its 8:53 pm. Petri has eaten both mine and his own dinner. Thinking about cutting Amar up has put me off my appetite. I walk to the kitchen and pull out a kitchen knife. It’s a big knife which is very sharp and is the best tool I have fitted for the job. Before walking to the bathroom I look at the mirror hoping that darker side of me will take the reins and do this job for me. He doesn’t come. I wait for a while but I am not aided with his help. I walk to the bathroom to see Amar. He is still fully clothed. I know my first job is removing his clothes. This proved to be a stressful effort. The closer I got to Amar the stronger the stench got. At some points I couldn’t help but gag. About five minutes passed and I stood back to see Amar in nothing but his underwear. I felt he should at least have some dignity. A tear rolls down my cheek as I pick the knife up again. I am trying to get myself in the right frame of mind for what I am about to do next. I kneel next to Amar and bring the knife to his wrist first. I pierce his skin and see blood pouring from his wrist. More tears stream down my face. I gag again and just watch the blood drip from his lifeless body. My hand can’t hold on to the knife anymore. Without meaning to I drop the knife and lose balance. I quickly stand up and head to the kitchen. I did not come to the kitchen for any particular reason other than to get away from Amars body. I look around and see Petri asleep by the fireplace. I look to the kitchen counter and see the bottle of Vodka. In the state I am in I’m not thinking straight. I rip the lid off of it and swig it straight from the bottle. It burns my throat as it drips down. I continue under the notion it will numb me of any feelings hence making my chore easier. With numerous stops in between swigs I have finished the bottle. I don’t feel the effect at first as I am slouched on the kitchen floor. My face is red and my tears are pools of misery and loneliness. I stand up and then the alcohol hits me. My vision blurs for a second. I shake my head and everything is back to normal. I walk to the bathroom and see Amar slouched. I’m sure he is smirking at me. He knows I am to weak to butcher him without the aide of something, whether it be alcohol or another version of myself. 

‘What are you laughing at?’ I ask him ‘Why are you laughing? You’re dead! You shouldn’t be laughing!’ I realise I am shouting now. I should lower the volume of my voice in case the neighbours hear me. ‘Please stop laughing’ This time I am begging. I pick up the knife and cut through his other wrist. Both of his wrists are pouring with blood now. I feel his smirk has vanished now and he understands I am not a joke. I poise the knife amongst his throat and ready myself to behead this poor delivery boy but am interrupted by a vibrating. I know at once it’s not my phone because I have left it by my bed. I root through Amars trouser pocket and find his phone. I see someone called ‘Abi’ is calling him. I mean to click ‘Decline’ as I did before but in my drunken state I click ‘Accept’. I hear a familiar females voice.

‘Amar?’ she sounds suprised ‘Are you there Amar?’

I ignore her.

‘Amar? Wherever you are, please come home’ she begs ‘Your dad is going crazy looking for you’ I wince at the thought of my only friend hurting ‘He’s shut down the shop until he finds you. Why don’t you tell me where you are and I’ll come and get you and we’ll speak about it?’ The voice seems incredibly familiar. I am trying to picture a face. I have only ever known four women in my life; my mother, my aunty, my social worker and Gloria. I know the voice off by heart of all three apart from Gloria who I have never shared a phone call with. It hits me like a beacon of light in a never ending tunnel. Tears continue to stroll down my face yet again but for a new reason. There is silence between me and Gloria.

‘Hello? Amar? Are you there Amar?’

‘I did this for you’ I reply.

‘Hello? Amar is that you?’

I realise the alcohol has taken over me and I have no control over my speech. ‘This is all for you Gloria’

‘Gloria? Who is this?’ I realise now her name is not Gloria and that upsets me a little. I know I must call her Abi now but I do not love Abi, I love Gloria.

‘Please save me’ I beg her.

‘Where are you?’ She asks me, not knowing who I am. I love that she is caring.

‘I’m at home’

‘Where is Amar? Is he safe?

‘He is here with me’ I answer honestly.

‘Do I know you?’ She quizzes me.

‘You delivered my groceries last Wednesday’

‘Number 10?’ She doesn’t know my name but it’s enough for me that she remember where I live. I choke. There is silence again.

‘Hello? Are you there sir?’

‘Yes’

‘Is it ok if I come over and see you?’ she asks. My lips curl into my cheeks. I haven’t felt this happy in a while.

‘Of course’

‘I’ll be over in an hour ok?’ She has taken all dominance.

‘I look forward to it.’ With that I hang up the phone. I get to my feet and run to the mirror. I look at myself and realise my cheeks are red and so are my bloodshot eyes. My hair is tangled and knotted and my beard resembles a birds nest. My hands are still red from Amar’s blood. I take the scissors from my kitchen draw and start to tame my beard allowing my facial hair to hit the floor and sink into the carpet. I slick my hair back and try my hardest to look like the man from the mirror. I have accomplished it apart from one small detail. I try my hardest to think of what it is but cannot place my finger on it. It then hits me; the scar. The man in the mirror had a scar starting from above his right eyebrow and ended at the top of his cheek. This is what would make me look edgy and daring which I assume all girls would love. I grab the knife I planned to cut Amar with and take it to my own face. As I tear the skin on my face a sudden pain rushes through me. I don’t let out a sound. The man in the mirror wouldn’t so I wouldn’t. I see the red blood fall on to my carpet. The blood tears through the carpet as if it was acid burning through plastic. I look back at the mirror and see my whole face is now covered in red blood. I look back down as the pool of blood burns through my carpet right where I stand. I am falling now. I know not where I am falling to but I know I am falling down through darkness. Just like before it is quiet when I fall. This time however I do come to and end of the fall and hit the ground with a thud. I am in an alleyway. I look up and see the white silhouetted female in a ball sobbing again. This time she is not a silhouette but is actually my beloved Gloria. 

‘What is wrong?’ I ask her, shocked that I can now converse with her unlike before. She raises her head but does not reply to me. Her face is pale. She has a worried look on her face. She points behind me, I turn and see what is scaring my love. It is a ghastly beast three times the size of me and has menacing eyes. Its teeth are showing and saliva was falling from its mouth. It stared right through me and straight at the helpless woman. In my right hand is the kitchen knife. The beast charges right for us. I know I have to slay this beast to save Gloria. As the beast jumps into the air I raise my arm up high and aim for the beasts stomach. I close my eyes as I feel the knife cut into the beasts flesh. It lets out a deafening scream. I hear a loud thud as it falls between be and Gloria, who is still sobbing in a ball. I run to Gloria to comfort her. As her heads falls to my lap I stare at the beast who stares back at me, this time not gritting its teeth or staring at me with anger but staring at me as if it had been betrayed by me. Its teeth are no longer on show but it is panting for its last breath. The doorbell rings. I am awoken from yet another daydream. They have been getting longer and deeper ever since I have felt love for Glor- Abi. I must stop calling her Gloria now I know that is not her name however much it pains me. I realise that I am kneeling down. I look around and see yet again blood trailing to the scissors. I immediately assume it must be from where I cut my face on purpose but as I look to the right of me I see Petri laying down. Normally he awakes me from my daydreams and protects me from doing any danger to myself. Is it possible he just slept through it? I pat Petri to make sure he’s ok but he doesn’t move. As I stand up I see that Petri is laying in a pool of his own blood. There is a stab wound on his belly. My feet give way. I am sat on the floor sobbing. The beast in my daydream was petri in the real world. I killed Petri to protect Abi. How could I do such a thing? I understand it’s not the first murder I committed but it is the first one where the victim was someone I cared for. I know that sounds crass but Amar was just a delivery boy who consistently spoke badly of my beloved however Petri had never wronged me. Petri loved me throughout everything. We shared dinners and both enjoyed listening to classical music all day long. We slept together in the same bed and this is how I repay him for his loyalty. My eyes are full with tears. My heart rests broken in my skinny frame. I feel both angry and upset. The doorbell rings again. I struggle to stand but if Abi is at the door then I must see to her. I daren’t hide Petri as I did Amar, he deserved more honour than to be locked away in a bathroom. I wipe away my tears and accidentally brush the cut on my face. The pain sores through my body but the pain of losing my best friends hurts more. I look through the peephole in my front door and see Abi stood there. This time she is in her regular clothes; a Black top which says ‘Metallica’ on the front, I don’t know what it means but i’m sure it’s lovely, it must be if Abi cares for it. Her bottom half is hidden by a pair of black tights and a skirt which looks like a tutu a ballerina would wear. Her eyes are black from make up and her lips are a matching colour. Her dirty blonde hair looks shorter this time but is till untamed. She looks much more rebellious than the sweetheart I met once before. I slick my hair back again and open the door. 

‘Hey’ She greets me.

‘H-Hi’ I stutter. Not a great start but at least I can speak this time.

‘What happened to your face?’ I’m not sure whether she is talking about how blotchy it may be due to the tears as I grieved the loss of my best friend or the fresh cut on the side of my face. I look blankly at her. ‘How did you cut it?’ 

‘With a knife’ I answer honestly.

‘Lets get inside and stitch that up for you’ She takes my hands and walks into my flat. As she enters my front room she sees Petri laying on the floor. She smiles at first as she assumes Petri is sleeping but she looks to the left and can see the bloody knife not to far away. She rushes to Petri and feels his chest.

‘He’s not breathing’ she screams. I wince at the honest truth. ‘There’s blood coming from his chest!’ 

I can no longer fight the tears and they come flooding through. Abi looks at me confused. She looks scared and that upsets me more. I want her to love me, not be scared of me.

‘D-Did you do this?’ She asks me scared to know the answer.

I nod yes. I can’t lie to her. I know I have to explain how it happened and that it was solely down to my disabilities but the lump in my throat prevents me from speaking. Her hand covers her mouth. Now tears leave her eyes. She stumbles back further away from me as I try to get closer. She is scared of me as if I were the beast in my daydream. 

‘P-Please just stay away from me’  she begs. I take a step back.

‘I don’t want you to be scared’ I cry.

She wipes away her tears and stands up.

‘Where is Amar?’ I notice her fists are clenched and shaking.

My chin hits my chest as my head falls down. I can hear Abi crying again. ‘Where the f**k is he!’ she screams at me. 

I blubber ‘In the bathroom.’ 

She runs to the bathroom and sees Amar sat in the bathroom in nothing but his underwear and lets out a shriek. I fall  to my knees and continue to sob. 

‘This is not at all what it seems’ I admit. ‘I didn’t mean for any of this to happen’

‘You’re a murderer’ she points at me with anger. As my sight is impaired with the floods of tears I first see Abi pointing at me with her finger but as I wipe away the tears I see she is actually holding the knife that was used to kill Petri.

‘What are you doing?’ I ask

‘Making sure you don’t murder anybody else’ 

‘But Gloria, you must understand-’ I begin to defend myself.

‘Who the f**k is Gloria?!’ She looks around expecting to find someone else.

‘I mean Abi’ Both of our tears seemed to have rested for a while. ‘Please put the knife down and we can talk about this’ 

‘Whats there to talk about?’ I hate seeing Abi this angry ‘You killed two living things and most likely planned to kill me when I got here’

My eyebrows raised at this comment. I feel shocked that she thinks I would want to hurt her in anyway. ‘I would never want to hurt you!’ This has been the most honest thing I’ve said recently ‘I love you!’

This time she is taken back by my comment. 

‘Love me? You don’t know me! I know Patel said you weren’t all there in the head but this is just sick and wrong!' I feel betrayed by both Patel and Abi. ‘Did you seriously think I would  find out about all of this and love you back?’

I nodded. She scoffed. 

‘Please put the knife down’ I begged. I was no longer crying, my body was far too weak to carry on crying and had run out of effort to try and reason with Abi. I reached out to take the knife from her. I made sure I was slow and gentle. Thinking that she would hand it over to me I lowered my guard to show her that I wasn’t going to hurt her. What she done next was very unexpected and made me rather angry. She swung the knife at my hand and cut my palm open. I pulled my hand into my chest and cowered. She had the same look of anger in her eyes as the beast did. I could feel the blood, that was left in my body, boiling to the top of my head. I suddenly felt the need to scream as a from of release but as I was about to scream I felt a tap on my shoulder. As I turned round to see who it was I saw the man from the mirror yet again. He looked at me and winked. He paced towards Abi who was still wielding the knife. I didn’t know what his intentions were but I stood still and watched him. The closer he got to Abi the more she cowered back. After a while she had nowhere to cower back to as her back was against my wall. All of a sudden she screamed and lunged the knife forward. I watched it stick into the man from the mirrors stomach. As it pierced his skin I could strangely feel the pain and could feel the blood trickling through my top. The man from the mirror continued without wincing one bit. He pulled the knife out from his stomach and threw the knife to the floor. He stretched both arms out and forced his hands around Abi’s neck. She tried to scream but couldn’t due to the force of the choke. I watched as Abi tried to fight the mysterious man. Abi tried fighting back by punching and scratching at the mysterious mans face. Again he did not wince and look unaffected by the blows however any signs of cuts were apparent on my face. Abi’s angry eyes started to close and any strength she had disappeared. Her arms were no longer swinging but were still by her body. Her legs had evidently lost all power as well as she collapsed to the floor. She laid on my carpet as still as Petri did. The mysterious man from the mirror walked up to me and placed his hand on my head. With his force he pushed me to my knees. My head fell to my hands as I started to weep in the realisation that not only had I lost my best friend but now my lover as well. 

‘Excuse me’ said a familiar voice. I looked up to see who it was. It was Amar! He was fully clothed with no wound marks at all. He stood next to the balcony and was stood next to Gloria and Petri.

‘How can this be?’ I was very confused. Just moment ago they were all dead and now they are all alive and smiling.

‘We were wandering if you wanted to come with us?’ Asked my beloved Abi.

‘But Abi, I thought you hated me?’

‘Please call me Gloria’ she blushed. 

I stood up and walked towards them all. As I did they all jumped off the balcony which sent a sudden chill through my body. I lived very high up and a jump from my balcony could only end in death. I ran to the balcony and looked down. I could all three of them flying around like magnificent birds. 

‘Go on then’ said a voice from behind me. I spun around to see who it was. It was the voice of the man from the mirror. ‘What are you waiting for?’

‘I don’t know’ I answered. 

‘Just do it!’ He protested ‘Don’t think about it, just jump and fly! You’ve always wanted to fly right?’ With that he turned around and turned the radio on. Edward Elgar’s symphony played again and as I closed my eyes all worries faded away. The truth was I did want to fly and here was my chance. I opened my eyes and nodded to the man in the mirror who was no longer there. I pulled myself over the balcony and without any hesitation I leapt off. When I looked round I couldn’t see Gloria, Amar or Petri anywhere. What I could see was lines and lines of traffic. I could see hundreds of people walking amongst themselves in such a hurry. I could see buses stopping to let passengers on. I could smell fresh air which was heaven. I could hear birds singing to each other and car horns beeping. Everything was lovely as I was flying about. I never wanted to land. But unfortunately the birds singing and car horns were overpowered by a females scream. I looked down and saw that I was not flying but I was falling. The path beneath me was getting closer and closer. ‘This is it’ I told myself. There was no way I could land safely and not die. But at least I would be with Petri and Gloria in a safe place where no one could get hurt. That would be the perfect home for Gloria, Petri and I.   

 

Author's Note

Please strip this short story down to your bare opinion and feel free to share it with me.