Poisonous Heart (Ongoing)

DEATH OF A FLOWER

"Play that song she loved so much. That..what's the name again?"

Asked the man in a black single-breasted suit, his chin-length hair covering half of his face, seated at the edge of the bed, crossed-legged and eyes focused on a pale hand resting on his own. With no expression showing on his face, no emotions on his apertures, not even despair for the death that is about to arrive soon, he stroked it gently and as sweetly as possible. Experiencing death is something that doesn't come unnaturally to this gentleman. He had caught a glimpse of it many times, and this one, for he is sure, will just be the same as the other that had expired before her. Death is inevitable, sure is, especially if he'll do it with his own hands.

"Chopin, sir. Nocturne.."

Answered the one standing beside the apathetic man, with his hands on his back, his left foot in front of the other, and eyes on the marbled floor.

"Hm. Yes. That song.."

He heaved a sigh and looked up for a moment as if trying to think of something to assert, not in an unfortunate way but rather in a mocking manner. Then, he returned his eyes on her again and caressed her cheek as he used to.

"Nocturne. Ironic. This was the first piece she learned from her father. She was his joy and pride. Her mother adored her, her brother cherishes her. And now, for the last time on her death bed, it will be the last song she will hear, and then, off she goes. Pity.."

"Sir..?"

The man looked to his side and nodded once as a response.

"Go on.."

"Yes, sir.."

The manservant turned to his left and unhurriedly walked towards the grand piano. The room was considerably enormous but, no sign of sunshine from outside was present, only a glimmer twinkling from the tapers surrounding them. The only thing that was shedding tears for the woman lying defunct on the bed, gradually losing its light with her. The moment the song was played, he started humming to it, amused by the despair the melody produces. He stared at the girl who was about to fly away shortly, free from it all finally. He kind of felt envious of her for a moment, thinking to himself the time that he too would go. He stroked her fluffy and twirly hair, while still humming to the nocturnal carol as he imagined it.

I wonder what it would be like; He thought, his lips slightly upturned.

Then, as the song came to an end, he revised his position and slowly proceeded close to her face.

"My sweet girl, my beautiful girl. Say hello to your parents for me, will you..?

As he was saying it, he was carefully pulling the pillow placed beside her. He kissed her forehead, then her cheek the same way he would do it a long time ago. And for the last time, he spoke her name. That name everybody worshiped.

"Goodbye, Dahlia.."

Without seconds thoughts, the thing that was her companion for almost a month was delicately placed on her once lovely face, never again to be witnessed by those who had known her, especially by that person that loved her. The reason she lived, and now will be the same reason for her demise. No movement was made as he continued to squeeze the soft thing on her face. The atmosphere was calm, everyone was silent, and only the black and white keys spoke.

Once done, everything stopped. Her heartbeat, her misery. He planned it well. He had performed it well. Everything is what it's supposed to be. He was contented.

He stood up and sauntered towards the table near the window, didn't bother to look at her again, and poured himself a whiskey as if nothing happened. The manservant stood up as well after executing a heartwarming piece. Walked to where his master is, stood still, and waited for his signal. 

One sip. Two sips.

"You know what to do next.."

"Yes, sir.."

He opened the drawer and grabbed something clamped in between pages of a book and glared at it while he sips on the bitter liquid continuously.

"I will see you in hell.."

"Lan Wangji.."

TO BE CONTINUED..