Grief:A Compelling Short Story Part 3
Grief: A Compelling Short Story Part 3
Part 3 of Grief:A Compelling Short Story of heartache, grief, deceit and crushing mystery. Read Part 1 and 2 below:
The male police officer stared at me with enquiring eyes, and said “So, is that all you remember? Do you remember if Adam was wearing a seat belt?” My mind went blank and I could feel myself crumbling, it was all too much for me to take. I looked over at Michelle and she nodded as if to say, that's enough now. She stood up and walked over to where the police officers sat, and said “ I think that is enough now, she is tired and she has had a terrible shock.” The female police officer stated that they had a few more questions to ask me before they left. The last question was, “Do you know if Adam was on any medication that could have made him disorientated at all?” Closing my eyes, I tried to think of anything, cast my mind back, but I just couldn't think of anything. It was like someone had wiped my memory, like I had been somehow rebooted. All I could remember was Adam's face before the car spun over. That was it, I said in a cold stern voice, “I dont think so.” They swiftly left, and all I wanted to do was crawl under my duvet and sleep, and reside there for an eternity. The same bed that Adam and I shared, the same sheets, the same duvet. Everything the same, I didn' want to change the sheets, I didn't want to change the duvet or even wash the dishes because I could still smell him. The house I shared with Adam and my sister, Michelle still felt like Adam. His scent lingered in the living room, in the kitchen, and especially in his favourite place the basement where he loved to play computer games.
We lived in a gorgeous house in East London right next to Victoria Park, that once belonged to our parents who now lived in Jamaica. Our mother was of Irish descent and our father was Jamaican. They left us the house and packed up a few years after our youngest sister Stella died in a motorbike accident. This is why this whole situation was so hard to swallow, we had already lost our sister in a horrific accident, this was just more pain and more misery to add to the back catalogue of grief. We had already faced an abundance of pain and heartache so, I guess we could get through this right?
I feel like I am not strong enough for this, I feel like my body, my mind, my spirit just cannot muster up the strength and the courage to go through days and weeks of feeling like I want the world to end. They say that when you are grieving you go through a phase of total denial, you just can't quite believe that the person is gone. It doesn't register for a few days, sometimes a few weeks. It is almost like you shut it out. I kind of felt like I was detached from the situation like, I watched the whole thing on television. When I look back on it, everything happened in slow motion. So, slow that I can hear the screaching of the tyres on the road, I can hear the police and ambulance sirens. However, it feels like I was replaying it on a TV screen, like a scene from a movie. Maybe this was my way of coping with it all, I don't know.
I was supposed to go to work, I hadn't even called in sick yet, I actually started panicking and screamed at the top of my lungs:
“I have to go to work, I have to go to work!” I was trembling, heart racing and my palms sweaty, Michelle raced over to me as I tried to climb the staircase, she held me by the shoulders and helped me up the stairs. She looked at me with a cold stare for some reason. I can never forget that stare, it is the same stare that she had on her face when Stella died, the same stare. Michelle always detached herself from emotions and she rarely cried. This is why she ended up working as a defence lawyer in the city. It was almost like she was dead inside, she always managed to get through the difficult times by focusing on her work. She was quite a bit older than me, 10 years in fact. When our sister died five years ago Michelle was 26 years old. I was only 16 and Stella was 14 on that fateful September afternoon. Michelle showed no emotion, the day she died, the day of her funeral and up until now she has never showed an ounce of emotion.
We got to the top of the stairs and I turned to Michelle and said, “How am I going to get through this?” She gave me the same stare and ushered me into my bedroom. I decided to crawl into bed and look through some of my photos, old photos I had taken of Adam when we first met 6 years ago. I remember these were the first pictures I had ever taken, that is when I realised that I wanted to be a photographer. Now, I was working as a photographer for a local newspaper, I loved my job, it paid little but I got to meet some of the most amazing people. I met Stacey and Victor at work, the guys who came with us to the club on my Birthday. I remembered I hadn't even spoken to Adam's parents to say I was sorry, I couldn't face it. “Another day” I whispered to myself, the only thing I could really face was work, taking photos, lots and lots of photos. Photography is my escapisim, my love, my art, my world. Adam was part of that, but now he is gone, I felt sick to my stomach. I started thinking about some of the things the police officers said to me. I was wondering why they asked me if Adam was taking any medication. It just didn't make sense, I lay in bed and clutched my camera and drifted into a deep sleep.
I was woken up by fierce banging, banging on my door. I drifted back to sleep hoping that Michelle would answer it but they just kept on banging, banging and banging. She must have gone out, so I dragged myself up and crawled out of bed. Eyes half closed, puffy and bloodshot red. I slowly crept downstairs and opened the door, it was the police again. When I looked through the peephole it was actually dark outside. I wondered how long I had been asleep for, it must have been for hours. I opened the door and stood there stone cold still. “Emma?” The police officer in plain clothes said with an inquiring eye, I nodded and stood there cold and still, with the fresh summer breeze kissing my cheeks. “We are here to take a look through some of Adam's things if that is okay, we have a warrant” I stood there shocked and barely moving, frozen I wanted to speak but for some reason nothing would come out. My lips were fastened shut, I felt like a mute. “Some new evidence has come to light this evening and we need to take a look through some of Adam's belongings, I am Detective Sargent Peterson, we are really sorry to have to do this now, but we have to carry out our investigations” I mustered the courage to speak, with door ajar, I whispered, “ I thought it was an accident though” The detective answered “Well, we still have to investigate to establish that it was one hundred percent an accident, can we come in? Where did Adam sleep?” I opened the door fully and led them up the stairs, into mine and Adam's private haven.
As they searched through everything and began bagging up what they thought was evidence. My mind wondered off to Michelle, where did she go? It was all over so fast, and they police left with little transparent bags of Adam's belongings. The whole thing is a blur, I couldn't understand why on earth they would believe that there could be a possibility that it wasn't an accident. I crawled back into bed. My head was spinning, there were all these unanswered questions. Why did the police think it wasn't an accident? Adam hadn't been drinking, I survived with only minor cuts and bruises, I thought he died from his head injuries, I just didn't get it. I slipped into a deep sleep, comatose, I dreamt of that night....the night he was taken from me. The night he went away, the night that my world turned black.
To be continued....
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