I Miss You  - [Short Story]

unedited

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"Dear Gisella,

I never thought I would be able to sit down and write this, after everything that we have gone through. Every time I tried to, I couldn’t bring myself to do it, to write down my painful thoughts about you. Every time I lifted up the pen I would remember the last words I said to you…more like spat at you.

Do you remember them? Do you remember the poisonous thoughts that had plagued me that day – the day that has been itched into my mind like an ugly carving? It didn’t bothered me at that time, it didn’t matter what you felt at that time. But now, sitting on this chair and thinking back to that drama I had created, I knew I would have hated me if I were you.

For years I have been playing that scene in my mind, wondering how things would have been if I hadn’t said those words, if I had believed in you. Would you have stayed with me? I don’t know. I would never know. Even if I relive the past every single night, I know you wouldn’t be coming back. That memory is something that I have held close to myself, never letting my brain forget it, because it is the only way of reminding my self the sins I have committed…those unforgivable sins.

I will always hate myself for the way I acted in front of you, even though it was no fault of yours. But you know me right? What could I do? I was helpless – a helpless teenager that thought her best friend had cheated on her. Just like every other idiotic hormonal kid, I had believed what my eyes saw, what my ears heard instead of believing in my own blood and family.

Now that I think about it, it sounds so trivial – so foolish in the face of what happened later. Do you remember? The chain reaction I set into motion that day…the incidents that followed and ripped my life apart forever. Of course, how could you not remember? You were there; you were a part of it – a part of the reason that has made me the way I am now.

I don’t blame you for it though, why would I? It was my fault for letting you go, for letting you step out of that door without a goodbye…without a loving hug, without trying to win you back. I didn’t turn around; I didn’t see whether you were hurt or crying because of me. All I could think about was me and about the betrayal you had caused me. How was I supposed to know he had lied about it? How was I to know he had used my own sister against me and broken our friendship? If I had, then maybe I would have held your hand stopping you from leaving me, from making that fatal mistake that cost you your life.

But I didn’t.

I stood with my back against you, letting you see just how much I had begun to hate you at that moment. I could hear your sobs, but I did nothing. Like all those previous times I didn’t hold you in my arms or sooth you with soft words, like a sister would. On that day, I pushed you so far away from me that there was no way for you to come back – no way for you to reach out and call me as your own. I am so sorry.

I was the elder one, albeit just by a few minutes, but I was. I was the smart one, the sensible twin out of the two of us. But that day I crossed all lines, calling you fowl names, accusing you of stealing my boyfriend and being the wretched witch in my life. And the worst of all – secretly wishing I never had a sister, wishing I never had a twin like you.

How wrong I was about you, about that guy who ruined both our lives. I still don’t know why he did it.

That bastard ran away as soon as I discovered the truth about him. I was planning on killing him with my bare hands for what he had done to us – I wanted to bang his head against the wall and kick in his guts until he apologized for breaking us up. But alas, I couldn’t do it; I couldn’t get my hands on that jerk, that monster that took you away from me. I am so sorry.

I still remember hearing the screeching of tires, the shouting of men and the loud blood-curling cry of pain, which echoed through the living room as I stood still, lost in my own thoughts. For a moment, I couldn’t understand why those screams… that voice sounded so very familiar. Do you know what was going on in my head?…the shock that pierced through me when I realized why I recognized that sound, that voice like the beat of my heart?

It was you…oh God! It was you.

It was so horrible. I couldn’t bring myself to see that bloodied mass that lay sprawled on the road. I couldn’t bare the thought that this thing, this mutilated body might belong to someone I know…that it could belong to you. Braving all odds, I ran with my heart in my mouth. There were so many people around the scene, too many gasps that reflected the chaos I felt on the inside. I didn’t want to see it, didn’t want to confirm my fears, but I had to step forward… I needed to see that it wasn’t you. It couldn’t be you.

But you knew I was wrong, didn’t you? I was always wrong, from judging you to hoping that I wouldn’t have to pay for the grievous mistake I had made. You had always proved me wrong.

From the moment I saw that blue bracelet lying a few feet away from the body, I knew I had lost the battle. How could I not recognize it? I had given it to you on your sixteenth birthday and made a twin one for myself. You loved the color blue, didn’t you?

It suited those aqua blue eyes, those mischievous eyes which held so much love for me that it hurt to see them close. It hurt to see those lips part, devoid of any breath or smile. It hurt to see you so lifeless and so far away from me. I don’t remember what I did after that. Did I cry clutching your body? Crying for you to forgive me or was I so weak from shock that I fainted besides you…lying besides you just for those few moments, pretending the both of us were together again.

I never got to say goodbye to you. I never got to ask for your forgiveness. The doctors said your body was buried two days before I awoke from the drug induced coma. I never got to attend your funeral, I never got to say goodbye…

I never got to say how much I miss you, Gisella.... "

The girl stopped writing. Her hand shook and the ink pen fell out of her hand, rolling over and drawing a line along the paper. Soft sobs spilled from her lips as she tried hard to control her emotions, to control those tears that she had hid from everyone.

All the pent up guilt and anger flowed out with a staggering force and more tears spilled. The girl collapsed against the chair crying loudly, shaking her head as she pressed a hand over her mouth muffling the painful cries. She couldn’t risk anyone hearing her pain. She couldn’t let them know that she still had feelings, that she still had a heart.

They blamed her for her sister’s death; they blamed her for having a heart of stone – for having watched her own sister die in her arms and not help her. They were so right, so very right.

Yes, she was the culprit; she was the cause of her death. More whimpers escaped her as she remembered those dull dead eyes staring at her, their brightness, the blue shine long gone. Those eyes had haunted her ever since, recurring in her dreams turning them into nightmares where she witnessed that gruesome death over and over again.

The girl was so lost in her sorrow, drowning in her pain and sadness that she didn’t notice the shifting of the pen or the fluttering of the paper in front of her. She didn’t hear the windows creaking softly on their hinges, blowing cold air into the room.

It was only after an hour or so, when she had wiped off those dried tears and bend back to finish the letter, that she saw something odd. The black pen, which she had placed on the paper, had been shifted, moving its tip closer to the last line of the paper.

“What?” the girl whispered. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes widened as she watched the pen twirl around and position itself on to the paper, bobbing up and down as it wrote the next few words on the page.

She didn’t move nor did she see what was written on the paper. All she could do was stare at the strange sight in front of her, and the still hovering pen, as if some invisible hand held it in place. Her eyes slowly shifted back to the paper and then, abruptly with lightning fast speed, she plucked out the pen from whatever abnormal force that held it and threw it on the ground. The girl sensed the drop in temperature and her frantic gaze swept the room, looking for anything unusual, but she found none.

“Who’s there?” she asked in a timid voice and pulled the blanket closer to her body. There was no answer.

“Are you here to hurt me?” she whispered and again searched for some presence.

The creaking of the windows grew louder, causing her to jump in fright and bury herself even more into the chair. The wind picked up the written letter, swirling it above the girl’s head and making it float for a brief movement, before another gust of wind blew it in the opposite direction away from the girl and towards the open glass windows.

“No!” she shouted and lunged. Her hands clasped around the edge of the paper and pulled it towards her. She held it close to her chest, breathing heavily and frowned at the weird wind. What was going on?

With a deep breath, she moved the piece of paper and held it in front of her, checking for any damage the wind might have caused. Her eyes flickered to the end of the letter and a loud gasp echoed through the room.

There, just a few spaces below the last line written in the familiar slanting handwriting, was a single line.

I miss you… I miss you too, Gina.

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