One Week and Two Days

It’s been a week since my bother was murdered. For one week I’ve sat within the walls of this house. Time drags on for eternity. 

Seconds feel like minuets.

Minuets feel like hours.

Hours seem endless.

Its around 3 am and my eyelids droop. I fight against my body to stay awake. Whenever I close my eyes, I see him. Eventually, giving in, my eyes drift shut but snap open again when I see my brother sitting in the chair across from me.

“Jake?” I breath. 

Hey Isla. You look like you could use some sleep. 

His voice is so loud. It rings in my ears. Yet it’s quiet, like a tendril of mist curling around my mind. 

“You’re here?” Was all I could think of.

I’m here, yet not all there. Jake recites, smiling. He loves saying things like that.

“How are you alive?” My voice cracks. “I saw your…body.”

What are you talking about? I’m here and alive. You’re freaking me out. My brother flickers, as if he has a mask on.

“You’re not real.” I say, pressing against the couch. Am I wrong? Maybe he was right. Maybe I was so sleep deprived I had imagined his death. 

My brother’s face is lined with concern. 

“You don’t look well.” I observe. His usually olive skin is pale and, oddly, slightly transparent.

I’m fine. He says, shrugging. Jake’s flickering continues, growing more severe. His voice has a fuzzed edge, like an old song. My brother’s eyes widen and sparkle with pain in their hazel depths.

Fine. Not fine. Not FINE! He yells, dragging his hands through his hair. 

The mask dissolves like mist into a phantom wind, revealing a bleeding and broken body. Blood blooms like a crimson amaryllis on his white shirt. Purple bruises stain his skin. His handsome features are contorted in agony. 

A scream catches in my throat. “Jake?” I say, extending my hand towards him. “Who did this to you?” My voice shakes.

Isla. It was… He doubles over, clutching his wounded side. 

“Who, Jake?” I try to move, but find my feet stick to the floor. My brother stumbles over to me, leaving a trail behind him. He grips my shoulders. The metallic scent of blood on him stings my nose. 

It was… was… Mira. Then he fades to dust.

I wake, covered in a cold sweat with my hair plastered to my face. Mira. It was Mira. My best friend killed my brother. She pretended to be overcome with grief when she found out. She lied. She can’t get away with this. She won’t get away with this.

As they say, a life for a life.

No, I didn’t really have a plan. All I knew was that Mira would be dead come morning time. And no, I didn’t have proper weapons, but a kitchen knife should do. I had called Mira this morning asking if I could come over this evening. We planed to go down to the river to watch the sunset. Then go to her house for the night. Unfortunately, she wouldn’t be alive for the last part. We meet at her favorite restaurant for dinner.

“I’m glad your feeling better.” Mira says, giving me a huge smile.

“Yep. Can’t hide away forever.” Mira is blinded by her own cleverness, that she doesn’t realize the hidden meaning in my words. 

Mira laughs. I pretend to laugh with her, all the while I am wondering where I should stab her. The countless novels that I have read have given me a good idea.

My brother’s murderer flicks her Long blond hair over her shoulder, casually. We talk for the next hour before heading to the river. Mira and I have had a special spot, away from the crowds of people, by the river. The perfect spot.

We reach it just as the sun starts to change the sky’s color. The water flows over the rocks, heading steadily downriver. Mira lays a towel onto the sand and sits down, patting the empty space beside her. I remove my shoes and take the seat beside her. 

The sun slowly makes its descent, coloring the blue above to orange. It casts a pink glimmer on the water’s ripples. 

Mira continues talking about all the recent high school gossip. I only reply with a well placed “wow.” or “really?” My fingers itch to grab the knife, but I restrain myself. Not yet. 

She is talking about Vivian’s new boyfriend when I interrupt,“Mira, who do you think killed my brother?” I reached my hand into my bag.

“What?” She asks, blue eyes wide with false innocence.

“My brother. Do you think they will find the murderer?” I try and keep my face emotionless, but must fail because Mira pales. My hand tightens on the cool handle of the knife.

“I-I don’t know. Hopefully.” She stutters.

“Really?” I say, my voice edged with venom. 

Mira’s face whitens further, contrasting with the rose red sky. The sun’s light gives our surroundings a golden tone. 

“Who do you think it was, Mira?” I say pleasantly, removing the blade. The metal glints in the fading light.

She gasps. “Isla, You can’t think it was was me. You can’t!”

“Liar.”

“Isla, he-”

“I don’t care what you think he did! You killed him. I won’t let you just saunter off.” I hiss, my voice is barely audible over the rush of the river. 

Mira tries to back away, but I hold the knife to her lower abdomen-where her liver is located. I tilt my head, savoring the look of fear in her eyes. She seems unable to move. The sun has disappeared under the horizon, making the beach cooler than it had been. I smile, the same smile I used whenever I did something I enjoyed, before pushing the knife through her cloths and into her skin. Blood leaks from her wound as I push it further in. This is the same place she stabbed my brother. Her lips part in a silent scream as I retract the blade, the liquid warm on my cool fingers. I don’t care that this used to be my best friend. As her life slowly bleeds out onto the sand, I remember the broken face of my brother. What Mira had done to her. 

My brother was murdered one week and two days ago. Now his killer is no more. After all, revenge is a dish best served cold.