Aquarelle [h.s]

twenty-six (Harry)

I could see a girl.

She walked ahead in the empty house, a skip in her step as she waltzed along the corridor like a broken ballerina.

Everything around me was dark, so dark that I could feel the obscurity penetrate my skin down to my bones and the core of my very being. The air was just as cold, surrounding me like a wet blanket and making the tips of my finger hurt and my mind wonder why I couldn't see my own breath.

I couldn't tell if there was a source of light at the end of the hallway or if the light came from the auburn-haired girl in front of me.

She chuckled, as if she could tell I was thinking of her, the laugh echoing in the small space surrounding me over and over again until it was too low to be heard. She stopped and looked at me over her shoulder, I could see the profile of her nose and the pout of her lips and I could almost feel her gaze on me, even though it was too dark for me to see her eyes.

I took another step forward and felt something touch my face. I frowned and looked deep into the darkness, instantly reaching up to find out what it was and finding myself even more confused when I realised that it was ash.

Ashes were all around me, suspended into the air as if time had forgotten to tick by, and it was only in that moment that I realised that there was a smell of cinder and burnt wood in the air, as if someone had just turned on the fireplace in an old, dirty house.

"Harry."

I looked ahead again when my name was called, finding myself staring at the red hair of the girl in front of me. It's all I could see in the darkness, the only shade that pierced the wall of dust and broken memories.

I moved another step forward, wincing when I heard a sudden crashing sound, and I looked down, discovering that I'd accidentally stepped on a piece of glass on the floor. It came from a bottle shattered on the side of the corridor, the label too faded to be read. My feet were bare, I noticed only in that moment, but I didn't feel any pain, only a sudden odd feeling.

I moved ahead. There was a piece of glass under my foot - I suspected so at least, as it felt weird whenever I put my weight on it.

The walls on both my sides seemed to get closer and closer with every step I took, their clammy surface grazing the back of my hands, cold seeming to exhale right from them and hit my cheeks, and yet I didn't care.

The auburn-haired girl was in front of me, my only light in the darkness, mysterious and safe all at once. I needed her and wanted to get closer, but at the same time I shrunk away from her, because her presence was all but inviting.

All of a sudden she laughed again, pristine and silvery, and disappeared, leaving me to stand in the most complete darkness alone.

I could still smell her faint lilac perfume in the air, mixing with the ashes in a twirl of life and death, but she was nowhere to be seen. I looked around, scared, feeling like a child that had just lost his mother. Where was I supposed to go, what was I supposed to do? I couldn't do it on my own.

I wasn't capable of doing it on my own. I was alone, completely alone. I felt lost, and terrified. Who would've listened to me? Who would've told me that everything is okay while nothing is? Who would've come to pick me up when I was sick, and had no way to go back home?

A door opened on the right, scattered cards and a scrawny Christmas tree all bent on itself. Bottles of vodka on the ground, empty. Staring ahead as the father crouches down to pick up the pieces, sitting in the corner of the room with a book and pretending not to have noticed.