The Sorrow

by Azhar Amien

  Chapter 4: Still

  The shadows danced along the walls and on the ceiling. Their own private party, the light from the door sending them into frenzy. The air was still. Soundless. I could vaguely hear my own breathing. I did not feel as though I were in my own body. I could not explain the feeling I had that, somehow, I knew something was wrong. But the air was so still. The house was so peaceful. I was already tense, my hands starting to ache from gripping my gun so hard. The quiet soon became as loud as thunder. I edged closer towards my bedroom. I wanted to call out to Nicole and to Jess. But somewhere my rational mind told me that if anyone else was there waiting for me I risked alerting them. I remained silent; robbed of choice. There was a faint beam of light emerging from my room. It half gave me relief and half filled me with fear. I silently prayed. I prayed that I was simply being paranoid. I had seen the police officers’ car right outside. They were still here watching over my family. Nicole and Jess were safe. All too soon, much sooner than I had wanted to, I reached our bedroom. I placed my hand onto the doorknob as I prepared myself. I breathed in. Once. Twice. Thrice. A silent count, yet I relished each second of waiting.

  I barged inside.

  My breath caught. The shock burned through my body like icy venom. My gun clattered to the floor. I saw red. A body. I recognised it. So much red. White sheets stained with wet blood. The ground disappeared beneath me. I choked. I stood there as the shock became a paralytic and my mind could not interpret what I saw. Yet I could not force myself to stop seeing. I heard a sound emerge from my mouth that I did not believe was me; an anguished cry so full of pain.

  Nicole was dead.

  My legs gave in and I crumbled. My arms felt weighted and old. I clawed my way over to the bed, going mad. Each moment I drew closer, yet I fought to stay away. I finally forced myself to reach toward her. My hand touched hers. Cold. So cold. I shook her. No movement. She did not breathe. My hand touched the blood. There was so much. I tried to speak. Nothing.

  Everything was still. Somewhere deep in my mind where rationality was a growing darkness, yet still there, I remembered Jess. I raised myself from the bed and the blood stuck to me like a parasite. The room began to spin. The light started to fade.

  And then I saw her.

  Her body was on the floor beside the bed. I saw nothing but blood and ruin; the body of a child completely unrecognisable. The world collapsed down upon me.

  I screamed.

  I screamed so loud my insides scorched. I fell down onto the body of my wife, clutching her to me, and all I saw was red. 

  I was awake. But I was not. I was aware of people around me. Voices, echoes and noise. I could not make sense of any of it. One of the officers placed a hand onto my shoulder, offering me comfort. I did not feel it. He began to speak to me. I could not hear what he was saying. My ears were filled with white noise, and my senses were numb. I did not feel anything. Then Sarah was there. She put her hands on mine. I felt no warmth or comfort. I was cold. I had aged. I was empty. I was something less than human. I wanted to speak. My voice was lost. There was nothing I could say. I could not bring my mind to work or my body to move. I was simply in darkness.

  In some way it brought relief; a tainted mercy. I felt no pain. I felt no sorrow. I felt nothing. I was just drowning. I wanted the noise to stop. I just wanted to let go. Yes, that sounded good. I could just let myself drown. I could save myself from feeling again. Before I felt the pain take hold. I could prevent it. I did not need to think about what was gone.

  Sarah then told me that she was sorry. She told me that one of the officers who had been guarding my house was missing. The two in the car were dead. She did not know how this could have happened. And then she turned to speak to the coroner about Nicole. About Jess.

  She thought that I could not hear, but I did. She was told that my wife had bled to death from multiple, deep stab wounds over her chest and stomach. There had been dozens of small lacerations all over her body. It had not been quick. It had probably taken half an hour for her to have bled out. Jess’ body had been utterly ruined. The teeth had been removed. The blood drained. The body was unrecognisable. It was the work of psychopaths, Sarah had said. She had not seen that level of violence before. The differences between the murders was staggering. It was as if Nicole’s murder had been at the hands of a sadistic artist, and Jess’ by a monster.

  I could not be there anymore. But I was being made to stay. The time passed without me knowing. Eventually the police were gone, the bodies were taken away and my home was a crime scene, but no one could get me to leave. Sarah ordered them to go anyway. My family had died just a few meters away from where I stood, in that room that ceased to be my bedroom, but a pit. Only Sarah was left. She went to the kitchen and began making either tea or coffee. I did not know. I heard her stop moving abruptly as if remembering I did not drink either of them. She asked me what I wanted. I did not respond. She trailed off, bringing me a glass of ice cold water. She held it uncomfortably out towards me but I did not move to take it. I could not bring myself to do anything. Sarah took the glass back to the kitchen, and I heard her choke up and weep. It sounded like that. I had never seen her upset or emotionally compromised in any form, not even once. I had never seen her cry. But here she was, in my house, still trying to keep it all a great big secret to herself. How curious. Of course she hurt. She and Nicole had known each other and been friends since they were teenagers. It must have hurt. I just stood and listened to Sarah cry. This is what it felt like to be broken.

  Sarah returned and kept her head low. She took me, guided me towards a chair in the living room and made me sit down. I did not register anything she said. Eventually she just sat with me in silence. Seconds passed. Minutes. Soon they stretched into hours. Sarah had dozed off. I just stared into nothing. That is what I had. It’s what I was. Nothing. Sarah stirred. I listened to the stillness of the air. I did not know how long I sat there, but light had started to stream in through the windows. The darkness was gone. Sarah woke up slowly and surprise registered on her face when she saw that I was still awake. She worryingly leaned down and cupped my face, looking into my eyes. It was almost strange. She had always shown me concern and care, but this was bordering on pained affection. She told me she would stay as long as I needed. She asked if she could get me something, and told me I needed to eat. Worrying about that seemed so trivial. Who cared what happened now? But I began to feel a wave of dread. It was only morning. There was an entire day to still face.

  Sarah’s hand eventually left my shoulder and she took reluctant steps towards the door, saying that she would get me something. Without another word she slipped out and suddenly I was alone. The quiet was eerie. The house was dead. My hands began to shake and I finally moved as I clutched my head. It was all my fault. I had done this. I gritted my teeth as my sadness turned to overpowering anger and my face became hot. The agonised scream that erupted from my mouth was not something I recognised. I screamed and knocked over the chair I had been sitting on. I unleashed my rage, pounding the walls, throwing furniture to the ground. I savagely kicked the dining room table and it flipped over.

  I pulled at my face. My family was gone. Nicole was dead. Jess was dead. My little girl.

  “No, God, no...” I stammered.

  My legs gave in and I collapsed onto the ground, cradling my head in my hands and weeping, feeling a crippling pain that rendered me unable to breathe.

  Hell had opened its gates for me, and I had accepted the invitation by my own doing. I had made it so easy with my mistakes. Because I could not let go. Because I had been arrogant. Pathetic, worthless idiot. Now my punishment was to be the only one left alive. 

  I wept for a long time. Until Sarah returned with a bag of food in her hand and found me curled up in a ball on the floor. Surprise spread across her face as she took in the mess I had made and me on the ground. She rushed over and held me in her arms. 

  Time just seemed to pass by ever so slowly.
I sat in the same chair that I had been on most of today. It had a bit of a wobble now. My earlier kick had damaged it. I did not mind too much. I just sat. I was feeling a little tired. Sarah had been called out and she reluctantly went out to do her duty. I wondered why she did it. With nothing to gain and only everything to lose it seemed like a fool’s path. Had she not learnt anything from what had just happened to me?

  But I felt strangely at ease. I guess I was relieved that I had made it through most of the day. It was early evening now. I was feeling tired. Maybe a short rest would do me some good. At the very least I’d get to escape this place for a while. I slumped in the chair, ignoring all else. I still felt my wedding ring on my finger. I could not bear to remove it.

  I closed my eyes, and suddenly it was May 15, 1998. I looked into Nicole’s eyes and told her that I had never imagined that I could love anyone like I did her. That I had not believed that this sort of love existed. That she had showed it to me. She had given me everything I had ever wanted, and everything I had never known I wanted. That only she was able to bring me back down to the ground. I looked into her beautiful eyes and told her that I did not want to spend another minute of my life waiting for the right moment. I loved her as easily as I drew breath. And I always would. With a soaring heart and a determined mind I had asked her to marry me.

  With tears of joy in her eyes she had said yes.

  I opened my eyes. One hour had passed. I did not know how. I did not feel my feet on the ground. I did not feel the cold on my face. The numbers on the clock turned into a blur. It was then August 20, 1999. The twentieth day of this month, the day Nicole first became my girlfriend would be the same day she became my wife. The wedding had been flawless. She was perfect. What had I done to deserve her? I did not think it was possible to be happier.

  My eyes closed once again as I slumped. The darkness took me to July 18, 2004. I was pacing at the hospital with my heart racing. I was a wreck. Nicole had had an accident. She had fallen from a stepladder and had went into labour. The baby was pre-mature. Hours later a nurse found me and my hands were bloody. I had crushed my water glass in the cafe by gripping it too tightly. She had smiled at me, tried to help me and told me that everything was okay. Nicole was fine. The baby was okay. On this day I had been proven wrong. It was possible to be happier after marrying Nicole. I had held her close in her hospital bed. She had been smiling weakly, but had somehow retained all of her radiance. I was telling her how proud of her I was. That she had done it. I held her hand as we went to see our baby. It was a girl. She had been so small that I had gasped. But it had only taken a moment before I had felt overwhelmed with joy, in awe of my baby’s beauty. She was a miracle. The ordinary miracle is what they called childbirth. There was nothing ordinary about it. Right then I felt the love that only a parent could feel for their child. I would protect her from anything. I would become anything to keep her safe. I would give her the world. Nicole was crying and holding me tightly. I kissed her.

  I jerked awake. Three more hours had passed. It was midnight. I felt hunger. I did not care. My mouth was dry. I would not quench my thirst. I did not want to breathe. My eyes felt heavy again. Before I could do anything they shut and I was facing the black once more. Vivid dreams took me back to January 27, 2005. Nicole and I were sitting at the dinner table. I was holding Jess in my arms. Nicole was teasing Jess, saying that she was her daddy’s girl and did not love her mummy as much. Jess had then looked at her with the most adorable eyes and said “mama”. Nicole and I stared in surprise. That had been her first word. Surprise had turned into elation. We shouted and cheered for our girl and I had grinned at Nicole uncontrollably. She performed a mock victory dance and I knew neither of us would forget Jess’ first word. 

  Reality slipped back into focus. I had nodded off for a few minutes. I ran my hands over my face and tried to remain awake. I tried really hard. And I succeeded. I breathed slowly, but my mind drifted once again. It was September 6, 2005. Nicole and I were arguing about something silly. I could not even remember what the disagreement had been about. It had got heated. Suddenly, in the middle of our fight, her face had burst into an expression of wonder, followed by immense joy. For a moment I was confused; irritated even. Then I had turned around. There was Jess, our baby girl, taking her first steps. She wobbled on her tiny legs and held her arms out to balance. It had been the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. Words could not have explained the pride, the love and the joy that I had felt at that moment. Nicole and I had rushed over to Jess and had made a huge fuss. She had giggled at us shyly but proudly. I smiled at Nicole and she beamed back, our stupid fight had been instantly erased. I stroked her cheek and she kissed my hand. Jess had then abruptly fell back onto my lap, and had begun to cling to me, not wanting to let go as she made herself comfortable. I had looked at Nicole as I smiled. I had winked at her. She had rolled her eyes in that cute way of hers. She had then leaned in and kissed me. I recalled telling her I loved her. She had simply said that she knew. 

  I cradled my head in my hands and wept. The agony was unbearable. Nobody could live with this. And then, in that moment, I realised my true punishment. For what I had done, I would be tortured every moment, every hour and every day just by being alive.

  The dead are free. It is those who live that suffer until the end. 

  I recoiled. The moment the thought entered my mind I hated myself. I felt ashamed. I raked my face with my hands. How could I think that? I was no victim. I deserved this pain. My family were the victims. I had cost them everything because of my selfishness. My arrogance. I never deserved them. I began to suffocate. My mind continued to flash back to the blood, their bodies and that despair, and then I wept; unable to escape the images in my mind.

  There were moments in your life that you could never forget. Choices you made that haunted you forever and left you thinking about all that you could have done differently at the time. In hindsight every little detail became clear to you. Minutes on the clock, words spoken and decisions made all became as clear as a deep blue sky. I felt it in my heart. If I had known then what my choice would have brought me I would have instead chosen death. 

  I had not left my home in days. I was completely cut off from the outside world. Sarah checked in whenever she could. And she grew more upset daily. I did not remember the last time that I had eaten anything. The pain of hunger was unbearable in my gut. For a moment I thought of not doing anything about it, and simply waiting until my body failed and I starved. But I could not do it. It would be drawn out and so pointless. It would be a stupid death. 

  Reluctantly I shuffled over to the kitchen with an overwhelming tiredness. My body was so weak. I barely made it without feeling nausea. I filled a glass of water almost as if in a trance. I gingerly took a few sips. It felt incredible. I began to gulp it down and filled another glass immediately. I drank deeply. I felt so good. I stopped. I did not want to feel good. I did not deserve to. I dropped the glass. It cracked badly as it hit the basin. I turned to walk away. I stopped again. I was so starved. My body screamed at me. I was weak. I was pitiful. I gave in. I hurriedly threw cheese onto a slice of bread and ate it. I felt more alive. I felt okay.

  Maybe I could take a step outside of the house now. Get some fresh air. Clear my head. I needed a break from this place. I began to walk purposefully towards my front door. I reached it quickly and placed my hand onto the doorknob. And then I froze up. I could not move. I began to tremble. My heart thumped wildly. And then I knew. This I could not do. I could not face what was out there again. It had taken everything from me. There was nothing out there for me now. Yet my mind was in contradiction as a small part of me wanted to step out, just for a moment, so that I could breathe again. The thought was like a dull needle in the back of my head, working its way to the core of my mind. Maybe I could rip the bandage off quickly and pull open the door. But I could not bring myself to do it. I dropped my hand to my side.

  Tomorrow, I thought to
myself. Maybe tomorrow. 

  The days stretched on and soon a week had passed. Sarah was here again and I could tell she was more impatient, and more determined to want to get me out of the house. Somewhere deep down I appreciated it. I also knew that I resented her for encouraging me to take the job. We had known each other for such a long time. There was a strong friendship. I had still not said a word since my family’s passing. Not one. I did not have anything to say. 

  “Jack, you’ve been here long enough torturing yourself. I think you need to talk to someone professionally. If you don’t want to talk to me I understand. But you can’t do this. You need to at least try. I’m still here for you.”

  But I was trying. I was trying so hard. I had tried every single day to leave this house. And every time I had tried I had failed. I was stuck here. With the stillness in the air, the photographs on the walls and the pit that I used to call home. I just said nothing to her.

  “I miss her, God knows I do. I know that we didn’t stay in touch as much as I would have liked, but she was wonderful. She always had been. I practically grew up with her.”

  I let her talk. I did not have anything to say. So I just let her be. 

  “I’m so deeply sorry, Jack. I am not going to tell you that everything happens for a reason or that God has a plan for us or anything like that. I’m not going to tell you that everything is going to be okay either. But there is one truth that you need to face. Nicole loved you. Jess loved you. You have a chance now to honour their memory and repay that love. Only you can decide if you’re going to do that. But you can. They’d want you to live.”

  How was I supposed to live? There was nothing left to live for. Sarah carried on talking. I didn’t know for how long. I began to lose track of her words. I only recalled that she eventually snapped and grabbed my arm, pulling me off of the couch. I barely reacted. Then she began to pull me towards the door. I knew what she was going to do.

  And I went mad.

  I fought her, I struggled and I tried to pull away. But I was weak. My body was not functional. And she won. She dragged me to the door, threw it open and almost shoved me outside. I closed my eyes and my entire body trembled. My heart hammered so hard against my chest that I felt faint. I stood, paralysed, unable to gaze upon the world. Time fell away and I felt a cold breeze on my neck. It cut like ice. I knew that the sun was out. I could also feel its warmth. I felt a hand on my shoulder. Sarah had walked up beside me, whispering words of comfort. For a small moment I felt that I could do this.

  I opened my eyes.

  There was nothing. It was so anti-climactic. The world had carried on. It had forgot about me. Everything seemed peaceful. Exactly as it had been. Except I knew the monsters that lurked out there. I knew what they had done. I carried the scars. But from where I stood you’d think that the city was safe. Only because you couldn’t see their faces. From where I stood it was alright. I felt calmer now. I strolled over to the curb and sat down. I stared vacantly out onto the street. I sat there for so long. Sarah gave me a gentle hug before she left, telling me to call her if I needed anything. That I didn’t have to talk. I could just call. I watched the birds. I watched the cars. I watched the people. I watched the sun eventually set. I witnessed darkness arrive.

  They were not dead. I would open the door and I would walk inside. Nicole would be reading a magazine. Jess would be waiting in her bed for me to read her another one of her favourite fairytales. Nicole would greet me with her beaming, beautiful smile. Jess would giggle; a splitting image of her mother. She’d run into my arms and throw her hands around my neck. Nicole and I would share a kiss.

  I would breathe again.

  For one small, insignificant moment my life was within reach. The illusion took hold. I was liberated. I opened the door. A family photo greeted me on a nearby wall. The pit in my stomach enlarged, and my heart shattered once again. My legs felt weak and I could not bear to take another step. I felt a wave of panic wash over me. My hands were unsteady. The room began to shift out of focus. It was dark. I was alone. I was in hell. I tried to walk, but my breath caught in my throat and then I was suffocating. The tears fell. I collapsed to the ground in misery. I clutched my hands to my face as I wept, trying to block out reality.

  I did not know how long I remained on the floor; how long my heart ached. I only knew that it was much darker and colder. I must have laid on the floor for hours. My eyes were throbbing. I had no feeling left in my body. I knew that I needed to eat and drink. My body was failing me again. But the pit in my stomach was growing and nothing would fix it.

  I could not live like this any longer.

  In desperation I shuffled to my room. I needed it to be over. For the briefest of seconds I resented the love that I had for Nicole, and even for Jess. Shock and horror coursed through me the moment the thought entered my mind. I was despicable. I was weak and pathetic. I had caused my own pain. I deserved the pain that tore me down.

  I wanted them back.

  Life must have meaning. It could not just be so pointless. If there was a God out there, maybe there was an afterlife too. Maybe there was an easier way out. Maybe I could see my family again. I pulled open the drawer beside my bed. I reached for my gun. I slowly sat down onto the soft duvet cover and stared at the weapon in my hand. All I had to do was pull the trigger. There would be no pain. There would be no more suffering. It would just all be over. I would be with my family again. I had to believe that I would be reunited with them. It had to be true. It had to. People would understand why I did it. It would be alright.

  I placed the gun underneath my jaw.

  My heart began to pound, and now it was the only thing that I could hear. My final symphony. Many people did not know what they would want in their last moments. I knew. I could think only of my wife and daughter. They would understand. They would know I was doing this to be with them again. I closed my eyes.

  I squeezed the trigger.

  The gun clicked.

  Nothing. I stared at it in confusion. Then I realised. Stupid, pathetic, weakling. I did not keep my gun at home loaded. Nicole had demanded it. I should have known the moment I had held the gun in my hands; I should have felt that it was lighter. I threw it down onto the floor in anger. I had been spared by my own negligence.

  I might have laughed if I had remembered how.

  But then I realised. It had not been negligence that had prevented it. I had been saved by Nicole. Even gone she could still do that for me. She could still save my worthless life. I no longer had the nerve. I just stayed there and cried the night away.

  I made it through a few more days, slowly getting used to leaving. I could do it without feeling my insides constrict. But despite that I did not feel any better. I did not feel normal or like anything ever would be. Every day was the same. I woke up. I suffered. I drowned in sorrow. I survived. I barely knew what time it was or what I did from one hour to the next. I was just aging. Years in days. The days were pain, and the years were endless. I could not bring myself to have any desire to do anything. I did nothing other than serve time in my private hell.

  Right then I felt that I needed to get out again. And so I left my home for no particular reason, heading in no particular direction. The one solace I had was that I did not dream at night. At least I did not remember them if I did. So I did not suffer nightmares, and for those hours in the darkness I was at least gifted fragments of escapism. But there was a downside to that too. Not being able to dream meant that I did not see my family in my sleep, in a better time and a better world. I would take a dream. Sometimes fantasy was better than reality.

  I circled around the block, my hands deep in my pockets. It was so quiet here. I hated it. The air was cold, and I liked it. It was fitting. My desire to live was insignificant. I barely knew why I was still here. I justified that it would feel like betraying Nicole if I loaded that gun in my bedroom drawer. It felt like I would be spitting in her face for saving my poor excuse for a lif
e. Maybe there was another way that I could die. A better way. A car approached, speeding down the empty street, and for a moment I thought of throwing myself in its direction. But there’d be no guarantee of death, and I stood the chance of landing up trapped in a hospital bed, a useless cripple unable to do anything on his own. Unable to do anything but feel every moment of pain. The universe was that cruel. The car passed, taking the moment and the vision with it. And it was silent again. This was pointless. I headed back home.

  I felt alone. I felt depressed. Other than Sarah no one had remembered to care. Or maybe they did, and I just did not remember the phone calls. Both my parents were dead. Nicole’s parents did not live here. Did they even know? Should there have been a funeral? I did not know. I did not want any of it. I did not really have much family. Not many that I had kept in touch with. In life you just drifted. With time everyone becomes a stranger. And if you stopped paying attention eventually you would find yourself looking into the mirror and not recognising the face that stared back. That was how I felt. Sometimes. Other times I hated the face that I saw.

  I reached my door and lifelessly pushed it open. I rubbed my eyes as they adjusted to the darkness. I was thirsty. I headed over to the kitchen and quickly poured myself a glass of water from the tap. I retreated to the living room, thinking of sitting down for a while. I moved my hand towards the light switch and flicked it on. I turned. I gasped. I dropped my water glass and it shattered as it hit the ground. My insides turned to ash. And I felt a hollow pit rise up to the surface within me.

  Written on my wall, in wet blood that glistened in the light, were the words: ‘Don’t be a hero.’

  Hundreds of thoughts coursed through my mind. My heart raced. I felt instantly hot. I trembled. I started to feel detached from my body. I was nauseous, and my breathing was strained. I was having an attack. I turned around and held onto the wall for support, closing my eyes and trying to breathe. I was sweating within moments. My head was pounding. My breathing was now laced with panic.

  I looked again and the writing was still there. My mind flashed back to the blood in my room. The body of my wife. Of my Jess. I silently screamed to myself. I raked my face, breathing in deeply. I was suffocating. I doubled over and clutched my head in my hands. I needed it to stop. I needed it all to stop. I could not take this. I forced myself to turn around a third time and I slowly opened my eyes.

  The wall was empty. There was nothing there.

  I stared at it in confusion. I was so sure of what I had seen. Someone was screwing with me. I hobbled over to the wall and slowly reached for it. My hand was shaking. I felt weak. I touched the wall. It was completely dry. There had never been anything written on it. I let my hand fall. I closed my eyes again and rested against it. I just focused on trying to regain my composure. I felt sick. The dominoes were starting to fall. I was breaking. Despite everything I knew I deserved, I did not want to wait until I lost my mind. I wanted to be clear. I wanted my mind to be awake so that I could be punished for what I had done, and so that I could feel my pain and know why. I did not want the clarity to go. I did not want to forget. I did not want that mercy. And I did not want to corrupt the memories of my family.

  Perhaps it was time.

  I padded over to the home phone. I reached for it slowly. And then I hesitated. I would be giving myself over to the dogs. Once I went down this path, there was no way to know when I would emerge. But I did not want to just wait like this anymore. Not with my mind starting to deteriorate. I did not want to be crazy. I knew that I did not want that. I dialled Sarah. It rang. A few times. I started to lose the nerve. I wanted to put the phone down and retreat. I fought with the decision. But she answered and the choice was taken from me.

  “Jack? Is that you? Are you okay?”

  I tried to find the words. She did not speak again, but I could hear her patiently waiting. I could hear her desperation over the phone. My throat felt so dry. I did not know when last I had spoken a word. I needed to break the silence.

  “You were right,” I breathed. I barely recognised my voice. It sounded rasped, lifeless and old. “I need to talk to someone.”

  I hesitated.

  “Of course, Jack. Anything you need. I promise.”

  I wrestled with myself. Once I said what I wanted to say it would all change. But I had come this far. I may as well cross the finish line.

  “I’m seeing things.”

  I put down the phone after my confession. I felt too exhausted to do anything but fall.