Short Story - Figment

She was laughing, with those shining eyes that could light up a room. We were complete opposites, she and I, she was never seen without a smile.

The old floorboards creaked with every step we took, telling us stories, from when the houses were more than just lonely, cold piles of brick. The musty smells, familiar to an old home wafted with every bit of dust I kicked up. The lingering smells of spray paint and rolling beer cans were a cold taste of reality in the fantasy escape I had found.

My feet became sore and my legs began to ache. The old floorboards were replaced with cold and cracked concrete slabs, and the smell of an old home was replaced by the scent of wretched things. My heart became full of dread, each beat made my body tremble more than the last. She was still smiling, but the closer we got, the more it became a grimace. I ignored the wings fluttering around my head, and she acted as though everything was fine. Still trying to make me laugh, always trying to make me laugh.

The shadows around the corners leered at us, just out of reach of the shitty streetlights they stalked, they lived in the same realm as my butterflies. She was trying to get my attention again, she reminded me of Tinkerbell, ethereal, always stealing my attention away from other things. Away from real life.

When we stepped into the house, our house, the first blow was expected. Swirling colors and beating wings flew in a panic around my head. She was never hit, I always bore the bruises. She disappeared for a moment, but she always did that. Then when the blows continued and I was on my back, she was there again. Forcing my eyes to focus on that smile, that laugh, until I smiled too. Until I couldn’t feel the pain anymore. When I finally fell into the darkness, she was the last thing I saw.

When I woke, still on the kitchen floor, she wasn’t there. There was no comfort in being alone, not here, where the rotting carpet held no warmth and the sight of the kitchen tiles made my skin crawl. Everything in this house made my hair stand up. Heavy footsteps thumped the floor, fear pricked at my skin, my head pounded. Worn black boots came into my vision, in a fruitless attempt of being ignored my body shrank in on itself, knees to chest, chin to chest. I could tell she was here, her hand grasped my shoulder, Tinkerbell saving me from the butterflies. Laughing with bright blue eyes she always had. She told me all the funny stories she had heard, and I laughed with her. Oblivious to the blood that was staining the carpet.

I’d wished for death, for the pitch black and the sleep I longed for. It didn’t come. There she was telling me that I had to get better so we could go exploring again. I said I would. The bandages were cheap and scratchy, only just stopping the blood from seeping. But they held back my butterflies well enough. My Tinkerbell was there, begging to go out again, into those forgotten houses. I said yes.

We found one that still had couches and tables covered in white sheets, I made a fort for us out of the belongings left behind. She clapped, she flickered like an old tv and the butterflies began to fly around my head again, their noise slowly becoming deafening. Louder, louder, louder…

I blinked, she was back, I was just seeing things she said. We stayed there until the sun was long gone, and the air was cold. We just sat there, finding solace in the dusty furniture and moth-bitten sheets.

They yelled at me that night, they wanted to know where I had been, I wanted to know why they cared. She had disappeared again, I was on my own. They spat at me, tormented me, until I ran, hiding under my bed. Muffling the cries of trying to escape. She was hiding there, she laughed so loud that I didn’t hear the boots next to the bed. And when I was dragged out, she was there, Tinkerbell, ‘Look at me,’ she said, I screamed, wings flapped erratically and my eyes sewn shut. She forced my head up, and I was captivated by her bright eyes, the screams didn’t need to escape anymore. And when she told me to sleep, I had no choice but to listen.

She wasn’t here today, I had no distraction from the pain aside from the ever-fluttering butterflies. They told me they didn’t love me, that they never had. The realisation that the two people who are meant to love me the most would never and had never made every noise become a buzz, eyes darting and senses slowing. My heart felt like it had been grasped by cold skeletal hands, squeezing and squeezing. They laughed at me. Their laugh wasn’t lovely like hers, their laugh was harsh and cold. I asked if they knew where she went, they laughed again and called me crazy.

Was I crazy?

She didn’t tell me where she had been, only laughing. I asked her if I was crazy, she stopped laughing and for the first time she was serious. ‘No,’ I wanted to believe her.

We went back to the fort that night, I told her I was hungry, she smiled at me. We stole that night, a loaf of bread. I offered her some, she said she wasn’t hungry, she never was.

The police found us, they arrested me, not her. I didn’t question it. When we got to the station, when I was sitting in a room with an officer and they asked me why I stole, she was there. She smiled at me, a serene smile, it was calming. The officer clicked in my face,

‘I was hungry,’ my voice coming out small,

‘Why not eat at home?’

She was sitting behind the officer, laughing and smiling. Her eyes always grinning. I wanted to tell her to be quiet or she’ll be arrested too. The officer clicked in my face again.

‘Can’t,’ I choked,

‘Why not?’

She told me not to say anything, said that they were just being nosy. I stayed silent.

‘We’re letting you off with a warning,’ the officer said,

Silence was the only answer I could give.

‘Don’t steal anymore ok?’

I nodded.

That night, again they asked where I had been, why a police car had dropped me off. I stayed silent. They beat me until I spoke,

‘We stole a loaf of bread,’ I cried,

‘We?’ They asked

‘Yes,’ I said, ‘the both of us.’

They looked confused for a moment before they laughed,

‘It’s her imaginary friend again!’

‘She’s not imaginary! She’s right here’ I yelled,

She was, she was right next to me, still smiling at me. I asked her why she wasn’t helping me.

‘Tell them!’ I said,

‘You crazy bitch there’s no one there!’ They leered with a grin.

I turned and saw that they were right, she was gone. Suddenly every moment came back to me, my mind clear for the first time. Those memories I had made, the fort, the houses, the bread, she was never there. I collapsed in a heap on the floor, and just like every other night, they did everything in their power to hurt me, to make me cry. But this time with, each kick, each punch, cold fingers squeezed my heart little by little, until all I felt was pain.

At the end of the night, I was on my back again, blood coating my teeth. I saw her again, there was no smiling from her, and only anger from me, and she was silent, and the only sounds I could make were a choked gargle. The butterflies went silent.