Who knew that being utterly wretched could literally make you sick to your stomach? Brushing the long, dusky bangs that stuck to his face, he continued to mop his sweat doused forehead. Flushing the toilet and rising from his knees, Vaedin hovered to the sink.1
Damn.2
He was only seventeen, but the haggard and gaunt face that eyed him intently with pale lips parted looked around thirty. His reflection revealed the greasy, glossy vomit stain on the formerly immaculate white dress shirt that he forgot to protect.3
Although the sunshine filtering though the bathroom window was bright and wholesome, it just made his puffy-feeling eyes ache. Light fractured through the crystal faucet knob when he twisted it, and though he cupped his hands to seize the cool gushing water, it would ultimately slip through his fingers. Like another thing he had no control over. He brought the water to his face, breathing it in to fill his nostrils, and sighed, exhaling all his troubles into what little liquid he held. The larks’ call rang shrilly in the distance, but nothing of the sort seemed to make Vaedin less nauseated and weak. Lapis-lazuli mosaic tiles spread across the bathroom floor. When he reached to the terry cloth towel that hung conveniently on the gilded rack, a violent shudder raced through him again. He clutched his mouth with his free hand, clenching his teeth in attempt to prevent the wave of nausea that threatened to overtake him once more.4
After the second lapse of dizziness subsided, a knock came upon the door.5
“Sir, is everything alright in there, Mr. Lorynce?” Gordo, the family butler asked with his usual monotonous drawl. Even though the door muffled the voice, Vaedin could discern his old friend’s rustic burr.6
“Just found a stain on my shirt, Gordo. Mind helping me to another one?” He was sure he sounded uncertain and shaky, but hoped the door wouldn’t let Gordo notice.7
“Not at all sir-- be just a moment.”8
Vaedin could just imagine Gordo hobbling along cheerily to the nostalgic country bagpipes that only the old gentleman could hear. At least, that’s what Gordo said anyway. Gordo always seemed hopeful, even in the most severe circumstances. Even for today. 9
Vaedin returned reluctantly to the mirror, bracing to face the shadow of a person that glowered at him. To his surprise, the reflection produced someone who looked more vulnerable than guilty. His gray-green eyes glowed with innocence and susceptibility. Damp hair still plastered to his temples and forehead stark against his translucent skin. He was paler; his usually peachy lips were ruddy.10
This is what contrition looks like, Vaedin thought ruefully. Well, I’d better get back before everyone thinks I killed myself.11
He opened the door and stepped out only to be greeted by Gordo.12
“Your shirt sir.” He said, half-smiling, looking as if he just laughed at a private joke, as he presented the starchy new shirt to Vaedin.13
“Thanks Gordo, appreciate it.” He was relieved that his voice didn’t sound as unstable as before.14
“Not at all sir, anything else?” Gordo asked, though a bit tentatively. His wry smile still evident, but now it seemed a bit forced. The lines on the old butler’s jaw were drawn tight.15
“Nah. It’s all right G-man. Let’s go.”16
------------------------------------------------------------17
Without expensive Ray-Bans shades to protect his eyes, Vaedin would have been blinded by the obscenely mocking sunlight. Why today of all days did it seem so promising when life as Vaedin knew it was over? Vaedin, although no crime was discovered and arguably committed, was a man marching to his death-sentence. But he was guilty: he was alive. He was the only one alive.
He did not know how he would die, just at what moment.18
It was not fair. Life was not fair. Life denied Vaedin and Sophia true happiness. Sophia was more cheated than anyone, even Vaedin. And yet, he discovered a way to equilibrium: where Life fucked over, Will liberated. 19
He marched up to his sister's casket, and glanced at her in her corporeal form one final time. He almost deceived himself that she was merely sleeping, like many people crazily in love would believe. He knew for a fact she was dead: he had held her hand, ear to her cooling, halting throat as she died.20
Is Sophia couldn't be happy, and alive, than neither would he.
Adding your comment: