New Year- Eve's Curse

December 31^st is a day of celebration and happiness. A day for people to welcome the new year and send the past year with nostalgic regards. A day in which people decide to become a better person, improve their selves and their lives.

But to Eve, December 31^st was anything but a joyous day. December 31^st marked her birth into this world... and the birth of a curse that would continue to torment her. December 31^st marked the day that she would temporary lose one of the senses that made her human.

First, she had only lost the senses that everyone generalized: sight, smell, hearing, touch, taste.

Losing her sight when she was one years old hadn't hurt her much. Although she wasn't able to move much and play with her small playthings, she was cared for dearly by her older brother Marco, who, not much older than her, took great care to her needs and carefully made sure she would not hurt herself. She had been told by her brother that her father had passed away a few months before she was born, and her mother, a few months after. Nothing from their possession had been left behind, which she had found suspicious when she was older, but never attempted to question it.

Losing her smell at two did her more good than harm. Her brother and she had lived near a farm, which made the smell of pesticides and manure prominent in their small house.

Losing her hearing at three had almost caused her death, had it not been for a kind man who was perspective enough to pull her away from an incoming stampede of horses.

Losing her touch at four had caused her to buy rotten watermelons for her neighbors since she did not feel anything while knocking on the watermelons.

Losing her taste at five was one day she was immensely grateful for. That day, she had disliked all the foods her brother had bought for her, complaining that they tasted like plastic and cardboard. Her petty comments riled him to take the task of making food for the two of them, just as she started to regain her taste. The food her brother made was the only food she had enjoyed ever since. They had not lived in one place for more than a few months, so her brother had many different kinds of foods to take inspiration from.

She thought she could deal with the loses, as they lasted only for the last twenty-four hours of the year.

But when she started losing different senses, she realized the severity of her curse. One year, she had lost her sense of balance, causing her to fall on some sharp wood, breaking her leg and hospitalizing her for three months. Another year, she had lost her ability to speak, creating chaos during her school’s musical, as she had been one of the main leads.

She slowly started to realize that others didn’t experience what she had been experiencing, that they never had to deal with losing a sense of their humanity for a while. She wanted to tell someone, anyone, but she didn’t know if anyone would believe her, trust her, believe that she was not going crazy when she said her condition. Her first choice had been her brother, but she didn’t want to burden him more than what he already shouldered. He was only five years older than her, but he was the bread bearer of the house, the only reason why she lived a stable life, despite the constant changing of living areas.

She did not want to go crazy, as she thought that keeping it inside her would only decrease her sanity. On her fifteenth birthday­⸺ the same day she lost her ability to write ⸺her brother gifted her with a (to much irony) journal covered in peony flowers, her favorite flowers since childhood. Since that day, she had filled in every occurrence of her loses, to what was lost and to what happened, from as young as she could remember to the present. She kept the book safely stored in her bag, so she would know that others would not discover her secret (and her brother was too respecting of her privacy to ever check).

Her 25^th birthday was one that she found suspicious. She woke up to find nothing out of the ordinary, no sight lost, no pain receptors not working, no speech lost, no nothing. She didn’t know what to think and decided to proceed carefully with the day, just in case it was something that was covered by the guise of normality. She ate breakfast alone that day, which was out of the ordinary, as her birthday breakfasts were always cooked by and ate with her brother. She concluded that he may have been running late to work and did not have enough time to stay with her. She was more than old enough to live by herself but “still too immature” according to her brother. Times were changing and so were people.

As she went about her day, relishing each and every sense she had, she found the reactions of others different from what they normally would act. They steered clear of her way, making sure to not interact with her or annoy her in any way. She was confused, as even the kids that she didn’t know at college were either giving her looks filled with pity or fear.

Only when she was reaching home did she find out the reason for the actions of the people. Her house was surrounded by police vehicles: cars, bikes, even add a helicopter. She didn’t know what to think, but her gut instinct told her that going there would not do her any good. She hid in the shadows of her neighbors’ garden, trying to overhear what the police had been talking about. The only words she was able to make out were “Marco”, “runaway”, and “mother’s death”. None of it made sense to her, but she knew staying there for longer would result in the police eventually finding her and questioning her about whatever had happened.

Frantically dialing her brother’s number, she ran towards the alleyway behind her house, the path her brother and she used to come home most of the days, hoping. Her brother’s voice sounded hoarse through the phone, but she managed to hear him ask her to come to the spot that they usually split up at to go about their days. It was close by and she knew she would be able to make it, even with her heavy bag slung on her shoulders.

And there she found him, absolutely wrecked and looking like he had been running for his life. She attempted to give him some water and to bandage his cuts, but he refused her help and faced her, his face filled with seriousness. His demeanor surprised her, as he had always been soft and mellow.

“Eve…I’m sorry”

“What? What happened? What’s going on?”

“I don’t think forgiveness is an option, I don’t… I’m not even sure if this is enough,” he said, thrusting a small package into her bag “but if this can help you understand why… then-”

He suddenly stopped, as the blearing of the sirens started to grow louder and nearer. His face fell at the thunder of footsteps and the increased shouts.

What happened next felt like a dream.

Police walked into the alley, guns and phones in hand and ready.

“Hands up!”

Marco turned serious, eyes cold and unforgiving, a sight Eve would never forget. And as quick as his appearance changed, he thrust a dagger right below Eve’s heart, purposefully missing and stabbing through the skin underneath, penetrating through her body.

“Miss!!!”

Her eyes widened as her blood seeped through her clothes. Never had she expected that they sole person that cared for her and protected her from harm would be the one to first try to harm her.

Bang!

His grip from the dagger slipped as his hand went limp.

Bang!

His legs crumpled down as his body fell towards her

Bang!

Blood seeped through his back and chest, staining both of their shirts bright crimson

“I don’t want you to suffer more than her, little sis” he smiled weakly.

……………………………………………………………….

“Miss, let go of him”

No, he’s my brother

“Miss, you are losing too much blood”

Nothing hurts

“Miss, are you conscious?”

He stabbed me yet nothing hurts

“Miss!”

It couldn’t be…

……………………………………………………………….

Beep, Beep, Beep

When she regained conscious, all she saw was white.

White ceiling, white blanket, white clothes, white doors.

She saw the tubes, numerous, attached to her, bandages covering where they pierced her.

She pinched herself, yet she felt nothing.

A dream maybe?

Brother…

Why…

She scratched herself, yet she still felt nothing.

No, not a dream, but…?

Had he really done that to her?

Was he really gone?

A metal fork placed near a tray of food, untouched and clean.

She stabbed her thigh, yet there was not an ounce of pain.

Not when she saw her skin reddening.

Not when she saw sprouts of red blood spill out.

Not even when the nurses came in to see her leg a bloody mess of holes.

……………………………………………………………….

The second time she regained conscious, she knew they had changed her room.

This room was cleaner, and less furnished, aside from the bed, a clock, a small chair (in which there currently sat a tired nurse) and the tubes. This time, there were more bandages, given her little experiment a few hours ago.

She turned her body to check the time (20:45), signaling her state to the nurse

“Miss! Please be careful with yourself! Your body was already low on blood, I don’t think the loss of more blood will help you get any better!” scolded the nurse.

Eve groaned a turned her head to the opposite side of the bed, discovering a small bag nestled in the corner of the room.

My bag!

The nurse, seeing Eve’s attempts to grab her bag, helped her sit up straight and gave her the bag.

Eve’s hands trembled as she took the package her brother gave her.

“My brother…where is he?”

The nurse stiffened and closed her eyes.

“Is he…still… alive?”

The nurse took a deep breath and looked at Eve straight in the eye.

“I’m sorry”

He stabbed her and now he’s dead, what was this supposed to do?

The contents of the package revealed to be two journals, each coated with a different flower. Her thoughts swam as to how similar these looked to her own journal; her mind raced with anticipation at what the contents may be.

She opened the first journal, one that was dated with the oldest year. Its pages were yellow and some crumpled, but the words were legible due to the beautiful penmanship the writer had used.

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1^st of July 1934

Cousin had given me a journal to write my thoughts, but I decided to use this to record the peculiarities I seem to be facing on every one of my birthdays. I do not remember much, but I do remember that on my fifth birthday, I had not been able to taste the cake I had bought myself- a tad bit disappointed I was. I remember not being able to speak on my tenth birthday, such peculiar indeed, as I had never gone a day without talking with everyone whenever and where ever they may be. Yesterday, I couldn’t write. I could speak, just as eloquently (cousin says I’m being too delusional) as I normally would, but as I held a pen in my hand to write, my mind went blank. Hence the reason why I wrote it today.

~Natalia

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Eve’s heart stopped.

This… this is…

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30^th of June 1944

Today was absolutely awful. Today was supposed to be the day I would travel to the city side, but our carriage driver was not paying attention to the road and our carriage rolled down the hillside, toppling into the nearby river. Both the driver and my traveling companion had been heavily injured so we were made to stop by the nearest town to find some treatment for the two. The townspeople were so immodest, gawking at us like we had come out of a muddy pile of cow manure. It had only been when we had finally gotten to an inn that I noticed the blood that had been dripping down my skirt, staining it, much to my dismay. It was my favorite skirt! How I didn’t know about the blood was a mystery to me.

~Natalia

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This person! They experienced the same things! Wait…

I know this name… from where?

Eve quickly skimmed through the other journal, looking for their account of their twenty-fifth birthday.

I knew it!

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September. 30. 1987

I can’t write much today, as I had just fallen off the third story of our building. Trying to save Lili. The little rascal she is, giving us a heart attack. Thankfully I didn’t feel any pain, but I had to limp home because I had broken my leg and arm? Interesting…

-Carla

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Wait, Carla? Isn’t that my…?

Heart racing, she searched the journal for the account for her birth year.

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October. 1. 1994

Oh no, oh no, oh no. What have I done?! My poor Marco, what have I done? My poor Eve, I…I don’t want to write this, no someone might come after me, I didn’t know. I wasn’t in control of myself. No, yes I was. No, I don’t know. He’s dead. And my hands have his blood. No, it wasn’t me. It was…I’m sorry. I didn’t think this would happen. No, please. Someone. Anyone. Help   me

-Carla

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Tear stains and blood stains dotted the entry. The last and final entry of the journal, the rest of the pages blank and empty.

He’s dead? Who…wait... that doesn’t make sense

She prayed the last account of the other journal would be different, less…hysterical.

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1^st of July 1968

Life just loves to bask in people’s sadness. Yesterday, everyone said I acted like I had no memory of anyone. Someone said I even tried to kill…Carla… like, like how I had ended his life…why would I even try to attempt such a thing? On my daughter! Preposterous. No… I may have. Carla she… she’s showing signs, signs of the same things I experienced. No sight, no taste, no smell, all on her birthday. I don’t want her to suffer. Not like how I did. She’s too small, too young, too… she has to enjoy life. She can’t be held back by this, she can’t be, she can’t, she can’t let this take her. No. I don’t know…If she lived, would she still be happy…should I leave her…she doesn’t need someone who tried to kill her… ha, it would be better off without me… she’d be happy. Would she be safe? I hope she would. I just pray that this doesn’t continue on to the next generation, not her children, please Lord, please protect them. I don’t know if it was only the females, but none of my brothers have it, none of my sons. So I ask you, grant her only boys to take care of, please. Please keep her safe, as I, her own mother, am too selfish to do so. I just hope my leaving will help free her…

~Natalia

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“Nurse,” Eve turned “My brother…what had he done?”

“Stabbed you right below your heart, clogging up some of you arteries and bursting important veins, which made you lose a lot more blood than what we have in stock”

“No, there was police…why?”

The nurse sighed, “I don’t think I am the one to be telling you this, I only know from what I overheard…”

“Which was?”

“Your mother”

“My mother?”

“He… He killed your mother”

Realization dawned on Eve. Mother killed Father.

Her grandmother and her mother ended their lives in agony. All for what?

For what?

Her grandmother hoped for her grandchildren to be saved, but life went about and gave her only granddaughter the curse.

She wanted her grandmother’s wish to be true. She deeply hoped what she would do would stop this.

23:59

The nurse wasn’t looking her way.

She grabbed her small pocket knife.

3…

2…

1…

Silence