Seeing Red | Michael Clifford [DISCONTINUED]

Senses (Ruby's P.O.V.)

"It's been two days! I'm fine." I say talking to Belle through Skype. I'm sat in Indie's old room at her parents house. I have to admit, I really wish I got a hotel room now. The room is left how it was before she past away. Band posters plastered the walls. Old photographs displayed in worn out frames. Concert tickets littered her wardrobe doors. It's like she never even left. Her scent of her vanilla perfume still lingers in the air and I think her mother sprays it just so she gets some form of comfort. This very room has too many memories.

"No you're not. I can tell when you're going to cry. What's wrong?" Belle's voice booms through my laptop speakers.

"Nothing." I start to pick at the cream bed sheets that cover the bed which I'm sat on.

"I'm catching the next plane."

"No you're not."

"So tell me what's wrong? It's no good bottling it up Ruby. You need to start opening up."

"It's just this room. It's hard to be in when all I see is old memories. They don't even have to be the ones I shared with her."

"Why didn't you book a hotel room?"

"Her parents insisted on me staying here. I can't just say no. They've gone to so much trouble." I hear a gentle knock at the door and a handle pull down.

"Everyone's here now Ruby if you want to come down." Indie's mother peeks through the door.

"Okay, I'll be down in a minute." I give her a fake smile. I look back at the laptop screen. "I have to go Belle. I'll talk some other time." I shut my laptop and place it back inside my bag. Standing up from the bed, I straighten out my black dress and begin to head downstairs. I figure I should wear a dress for this occasion. I've never been the one to dress up, but for Indie I will. She always complained my lack of ability to dress other than casual. Always making me try dresses on with her, complaining that it's too short or not right for me. But this dress I'm wearing tonight fits. It's the one I wore to her funeral. The one I wore for her eighteenth birthday party when she came to England just to see me. Drunk and a giggly mess. I'll always carry that memory. But it's the most simplest ones I'll never forget. Like the first time I stayed over at her house when I moved to Australia. The time we hopped her neighbour's fence at midnight just to go in the pool because she didn't have one. Our first gig we spent together then chasing the tour van to the pub. I miss those times.

As I walk down the stair case, I start to feel nervous. I have never met the rest of Indie's family before. Only her mother and father. I peek through the lounge room door and see a small bunch of people. Not a lot, but still enough to make me feel uncomfortable. As I look around the room, I cast my eyes on Indie's mother. I receive a simple smile from her and return the gesture. When I look some more around the room, I see photos of Indie scattering the shelves. My breath hitches and I storm off into the kitchen, gripping onto the granite surface on either side of the sink. Hunching over the sink, heaving trying to catch my breath.

I finally regain my breath and look up from the sink into the dimly-lit garden. The sky has gotten darker and the moon is starting to rise. I catch a glimpse of a dark, murky figure standing limp in the back corner of the garden. Who is that?

"Are you okay, Ruby?" I turn around and see Indie's mother walking towards me.

"I'm fine." I breathe out and turn back to the window to see that the shadow has gone. I feel a hand on my back and I flinch.

"Are you sure? You don't have to do this if you don't want to."

"I'm okay. Just felt a little sick that's all." I smile.

"You seem a little shaken up, you can go back to her room if you want?"

"No, I'm fine. I'll come in now." I raise my back up from the sink and walk into the lounge room with Indie's mother.

A hour had past and I still can't take my mind of off the silhouette I saw in the garden. Who could it be? Why are they here? I'm glad I can control the transformation of my eye colour because the shade of a confused deep orange would show through. No one would want to see the monstrosity.

"Ruby?" A male voice interrupts my train of thought. Her dad.

"Yeah?"

"Are you okay?" He rests his hand in my shoulder.

"Yeah I'm fine. Just in my own world." I laugh off.

"I know the feeling." Her dad laughs back. "We're ready to scatter her ashes in the garden."

"Okay."

We go to join everyone else in the garden. Indie's parents said they wanted to scatter her ashes in the places she's spent the most time in. The garden being one. She always sat out here in the summer with a book and a glass of her mother's homemade ice tea. In the winter, she'd come out every year praying for snow to fall like the English winter months she longed to experience.

She wasn't like other teenagers; spending all their time in their room, no. Her garden was her room. Privacy. It was her little escape from reality. Somewhere where she could think and no one would bother her. Indie always wanted to be surrounded by nature and here she got most of it. She made the garden her own space, decorating it to her liking.

As I stand with the crowd around the little flower patch Indie grew herself, I let a tear fall. Why did she have to go? I look up to face her parents holding the urn, preparing for a speech.

"We're all here today to celebrate the life of Indie Willis." Her mother begins. "These are the last of her ashes and this garden was important to her." She starts to cry so her husband carries on.

"Indie was a wonderful daughter..."

I begin to zone out. Every sound becomes muffled. Whispers. All motions are slowed down. I start to shift. Switching from one foot to the other. Playing with my hair. Looking anywhere but the ashes. I begin to feel uncomfortable. It feels like I'm being watched. My breath is caught in my throat. Short of breath. Panic takes over so I run to the front of the house, causing a scene. I don't mean to. I tug down the brass handle of the front door and swing it open. Rushing over the the curb of the pavement an sitting down. I bury my head in my hands trying to regain oxygen and some sanity.

I don't know how long I've been sat here. My head is still hidden away from reality, so I raise it. I look around. Houses dark. They were bright earlier. The only source of light is an old street lamp besides a tree flickering. Something black is slumped against it. I go to investigate, stepping slowly and carefully. The light flickers off, but I carry on. I am standing a few feet away. From what I can see is a familiar mop of long dark hair and a frail body. Why would anyone be out here hanging around in the dark? Heck, why am I here? The light flickers on and the face of the person turns towards me.

"Indie?"

Reality is snatched out of my hands again as blackness takes over.