Red Ink Stains

CW: Death

Three years back when my sister died, I felt like a part of me had died, but they just forgot to bury me. I had cried myself to sleep every night, mourning her absence. Little did l know, she was there with me all along. And now, when I have finally given up pain, there is just one regret. 

It’s like I am in an endless room with thousands of colourful loops swirling around me. There is a wave of tranquillity washing over, but I am too numb to feel anything. There is a voice playing at the back of my head, like a familiar hum, too faint to recognise. I take a step forward with a sudden urge tensing the back of my shoulders. I have never felt so desperate before. I reach out to grab a figment but all I can gather are shattered pieces of pain. My vision blurs and I am swept away. 

I find myself in an old apartment. Faded red curtains drop low by the window inviting the little warmth in the room. The sofa seems as if being jabbed several times. Empty bottles of beer lie still on the table. Before I could react, a man walks through the door. He is wearing a casual t-shirt with baggy jeans and a notebook stifled between his arms. 

Later do I realise, it is me.

I wish I could yell at him and warn of the upcoming peril, but my voice never came out. It stuck there at the bottom of my throat, fighting against my will. The thoughts dispersed when I saw myself talking on a phone call. 

It was my brother, Jack.

Jack was the director of a well-established theatre company. I had been working with him for five years as an actor and at times, even a co-director. We named the company ‘The Millers’ and luckily the fame rocketed in the initial years itself. We had a performance in Chicago today and Jack had called me to come early as he wanted to discuss some important details. I agreed nonchalantly and went back to my room where my stylist had been waiting for me. 

After three long hours of thumping make-up, I stepped out of the room in my costume. It was a well-ironed white shirt along with a pair of black trousers. My hair was neatly parted to the side held with ample amounts of hair gel and spray. The strong smell of foundation and makeup coming off the skin tingled my nose. Oh well, I did look handsome. I saw myself grab the car keys and walk out of the door. 

Thick belts of fog surrounded me and the scene shifted to a theatre backstage. Artists and coordinators were running to and fro, shouting orders and assigning work. Three painters were rolling their brushes against a huge canvas of a household setting. A number of prompts were neatly piled on the table, including fake moustaches, wigs, handcuffs, clothing accessories, iron rods and even wax faces. 

Jack and his team were standing in a crowd and upon their expressions, it was a serious conversation. I saw myself bulge out of the door, panting and drenched in sweat. 

“Sorry I am late” I announced “Did I miss anything?” 

I too must have noticed Jack’s worried guise when I asked “What’s wrong Jack?” 

Jack took a step forward, taking my hand in his and made me sit on one of the side couches “Dan, I am not so sure of tonight’s play. Maria said she has still not memorized her lines perfectly. I know it might sound silly but could we do a short practice. Just of scene four. I know it’s against the rules we made, but please?” 

Maria was like my sister. We have been doing plays together forever. Past a year, we have grown really close and it’s very unlike her to not be prepared. 

When we had just started this company, Jack and I had agreed that we would never rehearse on the day of the performance, no matter what. It was because we believed that rehearsing might pressurize the actors and that they should relax the whole day. 

My eyes trailed up to Maria just to find her blank eyes staring back at me. We had a very important performance coming up so I ultimately agreed. 

Scene four was the last scene I would appear. In that scene, Maria, a wealthy businessman’s daughter gets misled by the malice words of her father and kills her lover a.k.a me. We had all prompts ready for it. A fake knife, that would go in its handle as soon as pressed against something. We had packets of red ink attached at its bottom which would be used as fake blood. And then we had a plastic sword that would be my weapon.

The whole crew crowded at the corners as Maria and I rehearsed our lines.

“No trust me, Rose. I didn’t do it. I love you with all my heart and soul. I could’ve never betrayed you!” I said with a false sob lingering in my tone.

“I have heard enough. I know what is the truth and you shall blind me no more.” Maria yelled with the fake knife in her right hand. She stepped forward menacingly while I begged “No no no! Rose, please. Just listen to me.”

“I am sorry, love. This is how we end.” And with these final words, Maria plunged the knife into me. I let out a yell and fell dramatically on my knees. Splotches of red ink stained my shirt. 

Jack then finally came out of the dark, clapping. “Well done, Maria. Are you ready now?” 

“Absolutely captain” Maria replied with a smirk “Right Dan?” 

But I was still lying on the ground, not an inch moved. Maria’s smirk changed into a nervous laugh. 

“C’mon Dan, get up,” She said while giving my arm a soft kick. 

“Dan?” Jack said sitting beside me. “Dan?” He soon started to shake me vigorously but it turned out to be of no use. 

With shaking hands, he checked my pulse. 

Maria took a step back and gasped. “No! How could this- no no no” She looked at the knife in her hand, covered in red ink.

Turns out, the last yell was too real to be fake. 

All of this rained on me like rocks. It was Maria. It was Maria who had killed me. But why would she do that? I always thought of her as my sister. We were so good friends then why? A part of me still wanted to believe it wasn’t her but when the truth is reflecting right in front of you, there is no way to deny it. I could feel my eyes well up but all that rolled down my cheeks were thick vapours of ash.

It was too much to handle. I ran and ran until I found myself in the dressing area. Even though I was invisible to mortal eyes, I felt an urge to hide somewhere. It couldn’t be really Maria, could it? It could possibly be an accident. Or maybe- 

“Good work, Charlo” My thoughts got distracted by a sharp voice. 

“Ay, master. Charlo ay good at everything. As long as you pay the price” 

The first man replied with a chuckle. “How could I forget that. Here”. He handed a handsome amount of notes to Charlo. 

The man then sighed “I hope he rests in peace” and the two men share a laugh. 

It took me no longer to strike the familiarity in the voice. It was the last person I ever could expect. Jack. 

But why would he ever do that? If my heart could shatter the second time, it just did. I might have even forgiven Maria, but Jack? We loved each other so much, at least I thought we did. When dad died, I had always seen a part of him in Jack. I remember him being our angel when I had typhoid and my sister was down with a high fever. After my sister died, we had grown closer than ever. Then why?

I was again in the endless room. I guess some questions always remain unanswered.

I just wish I had died better. 

That’s my only regret.