Losing Ruby
Copyright © 2020 Kelsa Dixon
All rights reserved
— • —
[Chloe]
The next few days passed immeasurably. Debatably, they didn't move at all.
In the silence all I could hear was the steady line of his failed heart. It tormented me. And then when I was lost in its depth, any other sound sent a pang of hope through my system; as though the blank rhythm jump started itself again. I'd blink and remember he was gone.
People came and went. They drifted in and out the front door and somehow I managed the ability to curl the corners of my mouth in appreciation for yet another bouquet of flowers that would inevitably last as long as their illusory grief. Yet, still, I encouraged their words of sympathy with a dose of gratitude I didn't truly feel. Because, although it was kind, it did nothing to ease the shock. The numbness.
Now, the house was quiet again, and water fell through my fingers as I stood at the sink. I didn't have the mind to pay attention to what my hands should've been doing. Instead, I stared blankly through the window and watched as the Spanish moss twirled in the silver light; flirting—reaching out to kiss the leaves of the oak trees it spun from. I let the memories twist into my thoughts and pull me under. I preferred them to reality; there—in the memories—my parents were still alive.
"DAD!" The shrill shriek left me before I could call it back. I was standing where I was now at the sink. It was framed in the window, eighteen inches from my face. Six spindly legs like tentacles tapping at the glass for its next step.
His heavy footsteps rumbled through the house as he ran from the other room. He was always quick on his feet. I would've thought it had to do with the murderous sound coming from his only daughter, but I knew it was a precision he'd refined in his years on the football field.
"Chloe? What is it—what happened?"
I pointed a finger and I wobbled backwards. My stomach rolled as it reached the windowsill. A shiver raced through me at the idea of the feather-like touch crawling all over my skin. I gagged. "In the window. The window, the window." I practically threw up the word and aiming a shaky finger in its direction.
"Who?" He brushed by me in a hurry and clung to the lip of the sink as he leaned closer. "Who did you see?"
Who did I see? Momentarily, I was confused. Then it lifted another lanky stem that caught in the overhead light.
It was right in front of his face, and I stumbled back again. At some point I'd managed to back myself up onto a chair and instinctively my arms curled under my chin, hugging myself together. My upper lip started to sweat, and I had to remind myself it was only a spider. Although this one was the size of a hand. Really, the size of a child's hand—smaller than an infants'.
The size didn't matter.
"Please," I hissed through clenched teeth as it scurried down the wall nearly disappearing behind the cabinets. "Just get rid of it," I pleaded, my feet stamping out my urgency. "Please."
I bit my lip and didn't dare tear my eyes from the trail it was making across the white countertops. A stark comparison to its grisly, black frame.
"Hmm." Dad hummed, he'd caught onto the irrational, displaced fear. I heard the amusement in the underlying chuckle. "I don't see it."
It dropped to the floor and I stomped in place, my knees lifting to my chest one at a time as I suppressed a scream. "I swear to God dad, just step on it." I nearly cried. Hot tears pricked at the corners of my eyes.
YOU ARE READING
Losing Ruby
ChickLit[Ongoing] It took one tragedy to tear them apart. Another tragedy to force them to face their issues. And the scare of a third to finally mend what was broken. Brody has never been able to forgive himself for the death of their sister six years ag...
