Ambiguous and bereavement(Fruk)

8

"Hey, we will be by later tonight, around eight," Alfred spoke into the phone. "Yes, I know, I'll see you soon," I spoke. "Great, see you soon," he spoke. Alfred and I hung up the phone, and I placed it beside me. It was already late in the day. I was already eating dinner with Francis and still had my laptop in front of me. "How about you eat first," Francis laughed. I was about to start the last file.

"What? I have one more," I explained. "Yeah, all the more reason," he spoke. I looked at him, annoyed, and looked down at his plate. "How about you eat? You haven't touched anything at all. Not even your coffee," I spoke. I looked at him annoyed and his smile dropped. "You know I can't do that..." he suddenly said.

Again with this?

He is always saying he can't do things.

"And why not? For someone who likes to do things, you don't like doing things," I spoke. However, my light joke was soon shot down by the atmosphere. I observed him, and he looked at me seriously.

"You know why I can't..." he spoke.

I glared at him and shook my head. "I don't know why, how about you spit it out instead of going in circles with me," I spoke. He looked at me plainly, and I rolled my eyes. "Whatever! I'm opening the last file!" I spoke.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he spoke. I looked up at him confused, and he stared blankly at me. "Why not?" I asked. "You won't like it," was all he said.

I won't like it?

"I'll decide that myself!" I spoke.

He shook his head, and I started to feel nervous again. "Why won't I like it?" I asked. "Arthur, you know why..."

"I don't... just tell me!"

"I can't..."

"WHY NOT!?" I asked. He looked at me plainly and began to shake his head at me.

"Because you don't want me to say it..."

What? What is he saying?

I looked back to my laptop and clicked on the file. "What do you mean by that?" I asked.

Once the file finished loading, I immediately began scrolling. "Well?" I asked. I continued to skim past all the basic information and look at the report and photos. "Because...I'm not really here to tell you..." he spoke.

I froze at his words, and I stopped scrolling. His words sent shivers down my spine, and I looked up at him confused. However, I felt horrified seeing him. He had blood coming down his forehead, and I stood up horrified.

"I can't tell you...can I?" He asked. He stood up to look at me, and I watched as his intestines poured out of his abdomen.

I began screaming bloody murder and quickly grabbed my things to run away.

He continued to watch me as I ran up the stairs quickly. "No, No, No!" I cried. I ran into that closet again and locked the door.

WHAT THE HELL?

THAT COULDN'T HAVE BEEN FRANCIS!

My heart rate was increasing and I tried to look around in the dark room. I began to rock myself back and forth, crying, and I didn't know what to do. I was going to make sure I am not going crazy! This has to be some kind of sick joke. I quickly pulled up my laptop again and scrolled down to the photos horrified.

Pictures of my home.

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Pictures of a destroyed kitchen and living room.

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Signs of a struggle.

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Photos of blood on the floor and walls. Like someone purposely spread it there to send a message.

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I felt tears falling down my cheeks as my breath began to rapidly increase. I looked at more of the photos, and it was worse. "No! This is not real! This is not real!" I cried.

Pictures of Francis lying on the kitchen floor. His head was bashed in, and his abdomen was ripped open. His organs were thrown around like the other victims. He lay lifeless and grotesque.

I breathed harder as I saw how his hair was spread around. He had a ribbon in his hair, and I immediately began sobbing looking at it. "No!" I choked out.

"This isn't real; this can't..." I choked out.

I began looking at the report, and I read it out loud. "Victim, thirty years old....he was caught in the middle of a revenge act...victim in relation to the...to...Detective Arthur Kirkland..."

"Francis...murdered in their home...after the killer found their address..."

I began crying more as I threw my laptop away from me. "No! This is not real! He was there right now!"

The door suddenly began shaking, and I held myself terrified. "ARTHUR! YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENED! SAY IT!"

"I don't know what happened!" I cried.

"YES, YOU DO! YOU SAW IT HAPPENING!"

"I did not!"

I covered my ears as I heard the door begin to shake. "REMEMBER! REMEMBER! REMEMBER!" He yelled. "I CAN NOT!"

"You know what happened! I know you do! Stop avoiding it! Say it! Tell me what happened!" He yelled. I continued to sob as I recalled the events from this week. The people I interacted with. How was this happening?

The door began shaking more, and I screamed for help. "No! I was supposed to protect you, but I failed!" I cried. I held my face in my hands, and the shaking continued. "How? Say it!"

"Please don't make me!"

"Say it! Say it!"

"NOOOOOOO!" I yelled.

I shoved the door open and ran down the stairs. As I ran, I missed the last step and fell down, crying. "No! I didn't mean to," I cried. I continued to sob as I looked up across the room. I pulled myself up, and It was like I had been living in a sick dream.

There was a small memorial set up near the door. I began to crawl over to it, terrified and looked at the photos of Francis that were placed there. "I'm so sorry! I didn't—I tried my best!" I cried.

I continued to hold myself, but I felt horrified as I saw Francis coming toward me. This time, he looked normal. "I'm sorry... I loved you! I did not mean for this to happen," I cried.

"Say it! Say it! Say what happened! You know what happened! Say it!" He spoke.

I began to hit myself on the head as I began to scream. He suddenly grabbed me and forced me to look at him. Suddenly, everything began to come back to me.