Scarlet

The scarlet sky was fading. The sun began to hide itself behind the horizon. Sydney just walked and walked and walked until he reached a green rusty bench and sat himself upon the steel. He had enough. Another one of that mess, and he would move out from the house. Sydney had enough of all those bickering, statements of hatred, the accusations. He had so many chances of going out from that house, but one person kept him from doing just that: his sister. Sydney was not going to leave her behind.

He was just 16, but he went through a lot. He wanted a normal life, but normality was not destined for him. It was never part of his life, and it seemed that it would stay like that for eternity. Sydney’s eyes were emotionless, but his heart was mixed with too many of them. Why he was put in the middle of this hard life? He could not fathom it. Why he was chosen over millions of others in the world to deal with it? He would never know the answer.

The sun was half-hidden behind the horizon. A veil of dark sky appeared out of nowhere – a sign that told Sydney he must went home, a home he did not want to stay. He might have run away now, but he was obligated to get back. His sister had a special event on the night, and Sydney was her partner. At least, he would be happy with her tonight. With that thought in mind, the boy got up and dragged his still reluctant feet over the pavement. Sydney passed a number of blocks, and arrived at the doorstep of his apartment building: a shabby, dilapidated building, one that you could not imagine to be the dwelling of many souls, sorrow souls, with nothing to live for, and lived with everything that could kill them.

The stairs creaked as Sydney climbed them, one by one, with all the risks of breaking apart by every hard step. Finally, he faced the door of his ‘abode’, 153. The golden numbers were losing their yellow glimmers as the brown grimes took over. Sydney instantly touched the knob, but it was not locked. In fact, the door was not even shut properly. Queer, he thought. Sydney knew he had locked the door properly. Maybe her sister forgot to locked it

“Christine?” he shouted. As the door squeaked, Sydney slowly went inside the house. The house was void of other people, and there was no signs of any force entry or trespassing. Nothing was even stolen, but that would not matter anyway. The house did not have anything worthy to be stolen.

“Christine?” Sydney asked again, louder still. “Where are you?”

His feet brought him further, and he was now standing inches from Christine’s bedroom. Sydney tried to open it but it was locked, and he was on the verge of leaving it when he heard a soft, restrained voice inside the room. His inquisitive mind put him on alert, and he pushed the door with force. It did not budge. Again he did it, and another time. A couple of tries were needed for him to break it apart. There, he saw her, Christine.

Sydney had trouble coming towards her.

She was laid almost motionless, still like a mannequin, yet her eyes showed marks of life that was rapidly losing. Her beautifully patterned white dress had a tear, and a river of red was oozing out, forming a thick burgundy lake on the floor. No words came out from Sydney’s mouth as he crouched in front of her sister. He could not even touch her – seeing her, seeing Christine in that inhuman state was causing him paralysis. Just moments later, he managed to let out a single cry, “Christine?”

Christine could not talk nor could she move. She just watched him silently, and silently she left the world. Sydney sat still, without uttering anything, without leaving his gaze at her, without touching her. He just watched her, his beautiful dead doll.