Please be kind, this is the first time I've posted one of my short stories on Tumblr and English is not my first language. Happy reading !
The Black Winter
I tossed and turned in bed for the umpteenth time, melancholy lacerating my heart. I still couldn't believe that she had left us. That she'd left me. Yet I remembered perfectly the day she had announced her resignation. Her pained but utterly resigned look haunted me. I could see myself leaping from my chair when the shock of the news had worn off. I remembered very well the feeling of betrayal, of fury boiling in my guts, ready to explode at the slightest spark. And unfortunately, I remembered my words all too well.
The image of our meeting in a seedy café suddenly popped up, supplanting the one in the kitchen. I had tried everything to change her mind. I'd even suggested firing Holly, which she'd formally forbidden me to do.
My eyelids blinked shut, trying to erase the memories that accentuated my distress with every hour spent in her absence.
The morning she left us, I didn't come down to say goodbye, anger having overtaken my reason. I was left with a gaping hole in my chest, and no longer bothered to fight my regrets and dark thoughts. Only the temptation of emptiness remained, threatening to engulf me in the abyss.
I'd give all I have to spend just one more moment with her, to see her rant against the Skull, to stand by her side during a misbegotten case. I wish she could be with us like she used to be... This feeling of peacefulness, of warmth I had for her, was above all else. My will had fought this attachment with all its might. But I couldn't help myself. She made me... Vulnerable. The word made me shudder. She meant something to me, I'd known it since the day she walked through our door. Her courage, her intelligence, her mischief, that worried crease on her forehead when she was anxious, her smile, her hi−
“Pull yourself together, Lockwood ! This is not the time for that !” I lectured, smacking the back of my head. “She's gone, and she hates you. You don't deserve her. She's much better off without you and your darkness.”.
I was aware of the cold, distant, even cruel behavior I'd displayed in the months leading up to her departure. My chest tightened at the thought of her never wanting to hear from me again. When that was all I deserved for treating her that way.
Days, weeks, months didn't really matter to me anymore. Without her, I had nothing left to lose. The arrogant Anthony John Lockwood was a shadow of his former self, mostly alone, double locked and prostrated, waiting for death to end his agony.
Deep dark circles lined my reddened eyes, and my hair was no better than the old mop Holly kept in the broom closet. A corpse would certainly be in better shape than me. Nevertheless, I wasn't the only one transformed. We'd all changed. George in particular. The situation was affecting him more than he wanted to let on. He hardly ate anymore, and his sarcasm was all gone. Holly was no longer herself. Her expression grew darker by the day. I'd catch her giving me worried glances before disappearing behind her paperwork. She blamed herself.
I pulled the curtains of my bedroom wide enough to keep an eye on the post office truck. Every morning, I'd get up at the crack of dawn and watch for it. It wasn't long before the red van pulled up in front of Portland Row. My blood ran cold. Rushing out the door and down the stairs, I arrived in the lobby just in time to retrieve the newspaper that had slipped through the mailbox flap. My attention instantly drifted to the last pages that contained the obituaries.
“Please... Please, please...”.
My eyes roamed over each death notice, praying I wouldn't see her name written down in ink. A hundred of them later, my fear vanished with a sigh of relief. She was still alive. This information was the only thing that had kept me sane over the last few weeks. Although my despondency was tearing me apart, a faint glimmer of hope still shone within me. Perhaps one distant day, I'll finally see my Luce again...
