Three Hours & A Thousand years

[Trigger Warning]

In all her twenty-one nights, Dahlia had never been as anxious as tonight. She looked beautiful. Fragile as glass and enchanting, like the moon. Her inky curls had been styled to perfection. Detangled and perfumed with rose-scented water. The silk against her petite frame, a seductive shade of wine. She fluttered her eyes open and stared her reflection down. Her pale skin gleaming under the moonlight with previously shed tears.

She looked beautiful but she wanted to feel it too.

She shook her head. This is not how it's supposed to be. It wasn't her fault she wasn’t perfect. Her soul shackled to the night and her mind that has only ever known the cold embrace of the dark. Was she even worth it? Would anyone even care if she was gone?

"Dahlia! Five more minutes. The Smiths are going to be here anytime now!" Dahlia's mother screamed from across the house.

She heard her father grunt in approval.

Dahlia wiped off a tear that rolled down her eye in a hurry. "Coming mother!" she said hastily before powdering on some concealer under her swollen eyes.

--3 more hours.--

Dear James,

By the time you read this, I’ll be gone. 

I’ll be nothing more than a fleeting memory that invades your mind in the dead of endless nights, a passive thought you reminisce back on, or a fading memory, forever imprisoned in one of our polaroid pictures. 

Don’t worry, I’ll still be by your side-- confined in the walls of all the memories we once shared. All of which I’m extremely grateful for.

I’m grateful for those moments which filled the dark void in my chest with a sliver of bliss, for those nights where our laughter echoed through the halls as time flew from our grasps.

But, then came the other days of darkness that seemed to stretch on for eternity, turning mere seconds into hours.

Those were the moments that broke me free of your warm embrace, the embrace that shielded me from the world.

Those were the moments that slapped me across my face with such brutality that they left my cheeks raw and bloody. Those were the moments that I found out the real meaning of life.

Those nights of dispair became days, then months and years. The same sun that served as a reminder that I could start over on a new day now taunts me with life.

...

Dahlia’s footsteps echoed off the empty hallway as she made her way to greet everyone. A smile plastered onto her lips as she welcomed everyone into her home house. 

She clenched onto her necklace, counting each bead as she repeated her mantra over and over again. 

“Three hours and thirty minutes. Three hours and thirty minutes. Just three more hours and thirty minutes.”

James walked up next to her, smiling and giving her a friendly pat on the shoulder. “Hello sis, you clean up well.” 

Dahlia answered with a grateful smile. A genuine one this time.

James had always been a sturdy rock, helping her withstand the tornado that was her life. Her lifeline. Her brother. Her sole reason to live.

--2 more hours.--

I know what you’re thinking. I have no right to complain. There are millions out there, riddled with famine, violence and a life I couldn’t even begin to understand. But I guess I’m just not as strong as you are. Mom and dad always said that the strongest, most deserving are the ones to survive. So it’s only fitting that you continue this legacy.

I can just hope that one day you forgive me for being such a burden.

...

Dahlia sat at the dining table right across the Smiths. Her mother, delicately clad in a white evening gown strode in with steaming platters of roast. If there’s one thing Dahlia liked about being alive, it was food. The aroma that left her daydreaming for ages, the strong burst of spices in her mouth as she took the first bite and the sweet after taste that kept reminding her of the small things that made life worth living. However, her mother had brought a halt to that specific daydream of her’s after telling an eleven-year-old Dahlia that girls were meant to be delicate and beautiful. An important goal that food would definitely hinder. So then life was a monotonous cycle of unsweetened porridge and boiled vegetables. 

--1 more hour.--

Happiness, James in a word I don't necessarily believe in. It is a Hollywood word. A notion created merely to sell literature and movie rights. Happiness as I see it is a global obsession born out of a desperate need for validation. People call it love, destiny, and give it all other sorts of fancy nick-names but for me, it’s chemistry, biology and hormones, dressed up in some happily-ever-after society-created delusion born out of fear. Of course, you’re always a cynic after your own parents have told you that you’re not special or even worth much. But all those neighbourhood kids are right, true family does exist. But the only thing they fail to understand is that for some of us, finding them is not always a good thing.

...

“Dahlia, pass me the sauce.”

“Yes, Mrs. Smith.”

“You’ve grown up so much since the last time I saw you. However, you do seem to fill out that dress a little too… um...well. You might want to eat some more vegetables instead of all that roast.” Mrs. Smith said in a seemingly sweet comment, slightly tilting her head to examine Dahlia more closely.

She squirmed in her seat, putting her plate aside. “Forgive me, I’m not too hungry. Mother, can I go back to my room? I don’t feel too well.”

Her mother smiled tightly. “Of course my dear.”

Dahlia was doomed. Her mother was clearly not pleased.

She pushed back her chair and exited the room, her dress trailing behind smoothly. Reaching her room, she opened a drawer, pulled out a rope and stood on the bed. 

Looking at the fan and the rope in her hand Dahlia closed her eyes.

--That’s it, dear reader. No more hours left.--

If you’re reading this, I’m gone, James. But you’re still here. Bearing the weight of the world. You survived. You still have one chance to create the life you want.

I know it might be asking for a lot, but I have one final wish. I wish that you keep living for both of us. Love and give infinitely. Chase your dreams and maybe say goodbye to me with sorrow, but hopefully with a smile.

I love you. Always and forever.

Dal.

--

James had to stop there. The tears behind his eyes had built to a shattering intensity. He wanted to put his head down and burst into unmanly, undignified tears. For Dahlia, for her expectation that his love would be unconditional. His sister was dead. The thought sunk into his heart like a wrecking ball.