Isabelle lay in bed that night, thoughts racing through her head at a million per hour.
Was I responsible for Aggie's death?
No, a part she wanted to say, I didn't make her get caught on that plant. It would have happened either way.
But the other part knew fully well that Agatha would have never run out of breath if she wasn't carrying a large, heavy brick.
"I need some air," she thought out loud and flung the bed covers off her body. Tiptoeing through the hallway, then down the creaky stairwell, and out the back door she went. Deep breath, let it out. Deep breath, let it out. She continued like this for five solid minutes, but her conscience remained heavy. So she took off running as fast as she could, and ran, and ran, and ran. She stopped, so abruptly that she almost fell over, though, when she reached the one place she always wanted to go to, and the one place she never wanted to be at.
The lake.
After Agatha drowned, no one in their family wanted to swim in it for almost a year. Then one by one, as if deciding that they had waited long enough, they started swimming in it again. Diving, smiling, laughing. But not Isabelle. To this day, she still refused to step foot in it. Or, swim foot, I guess. But that's because they weren't there. They didn't know how when she got close to the lake, her heart began beating, and she began sweating, flashbacks of that day taking over her mind. Agatha laughing, then, a second later, at the bottom of the lake, lifeless. Both of them, diving into it, but only Isabelle coming up.
But tonight, she just stood, frozen, as she stared at the water, moonlight reflecting on the surface, and all she could think of was how Agatha would never have the privilege to pop up from underneath it. Once again, her breath hitched, and as she turned to sprint back, she caught a glimpse of fire red behind her.
The same exact brick that had been destroyed by Isabelle's own hands (plus a hammer) three years ago.
You may ask, how did she know it was the same brick that drowned her sister?
She just did.
With a loud gasp, Isabelle ran as fast as she could, through the midnight fog and the whispers in the wind until her house came into view.
She stumbled onto the back porch, tripping over non-existent twigs and branches that wouldn't even be in that spot if they did. She twisted the knob, once to the left, twice to the right.
It was locked.
And she hadn't locked it.
By now, the windows in the house had fogged up, and she could barely see five feet in front of her. But, by sheer luck, or, possibly the opposite, it cleared up just enough that she could see, clear as glass, the writing on the window.
Tell them.
What are you afraid of?
____________________________________
Isabelle took a deep breath, walked up to her family at breakfast, and sat down at the table.
"Izzy! Good, you're up! I was beginning to wonder-"
"I have something to confess," Isabelle started. "About the night Agatha died."
YOU ARE READING
Agatha
Short StoryThree years ago, Isabelle and Agatha Lawrence went swimming alone, after their father had told them not to. Three years ago, Agatha died. Three years ago, Isabelle told a lie she had to hold on to ever since. But now Agatha's back. And she's out f...
