@amber_is_in_a_loop
At first, when I walked in, it didn’t seem like anything was wrong. I took a few steps on the dark hardwood floor, setting down my bags, obnoxiously happy to be home. But then the silence hit me full blast, and the smell. The stench of metal and medicine. I squeezed the toy monkey in my left hand, taking the tiniest comfort in its soft brown fur. I almost managed to calm down.
I couldn’t wait any longer to see Annika. I took a hesitant step towards the staircase, my boot slapping loudly on the planks underfoot. Then came a small stifled gasp from upstairs. A creaking of doors. Rushed footsteps sounded as Isabelle appeared, hidden behind the banister. As soon as she saw me, she stopped dead.
I smiled tentatively, and took another, more confident step. But as I neared her, I noticed more. The smudges of mascara, as if she hadn’t bothered cleaning them off. Her usually sleek red hair hanging limply at her shoulders. Puffy eyes, streaked cheeks and taut expression, as if holding back tears. The tiniest, pearly tear slowly sank down to the base of her neck. Dread washed over me.
“Isabelle. Talk to me,” I commanded, harsher then I had intended.
She opened her mouth to speak, but her words were replaced by a fresh flood of tears racing each other down her face. I barely even noticed the stuffed animal slip out of my hand as I ran towards the staircase. I shoved Isabelle out of my way, and a man in a white coat ran out of Annika’s bedroom and tried holding me back. All I could see was my daughter’s sweet smile, her sparkly laugh and gentle voice. I didn’t even notice the doctor stumble as I elbowed past him. My screams for my daughter resounded in my ears, sounding a thousand times louder than they should have, weighed down with heartbreak. I finally reached the white door covered in drawings and stickers and slammed it open.
The first thing I saw was the drawn curtain. Then I saw her clothes and toys and books hadn’t moved from their place on the shelves, and neither had the fort we had made before I left. But my gaze then drifted over to the bed. In that one, tiniest fragment of moment, I felt my heart shatter in a way it could never be fixed. The flowered sheets were neatly folded, though the lack of sunlight dulled the bright shades. Annika’s teddy bears were still tucked in neatly at the foot of the bed. Tears were already streaming down my face, blurring my vision, but I could still make out the still body lying on the blankets. As I wiped them away, my baby, my eight-year-old daughter, my Annika’s cold face swam into sharp focus.
I stumbled towards the bed, screaming for the part of me that had been so suddenly ripped out. She wasn’t smiling up at me, not reaching up to me, not ever again. I realized I was kneeling next to her bed. My hands ran up and down her stiff body, the emptiness in my heart growing and growing until I felt as if I were air, there but not at all.
My fingers were shaking violently as I caressed her cold cheek, cupped her face and raised it slowly so I could kiss her frozen forehead. Strong hands were gripping my shoulders, trying to drag me away, and a sharp pain in my throat brought me back to reality.
I was shrieking at the top of my lungs for my darling, my baby that would never talk to me again, never open her startling green eyes again. I managed to pull free with a well-placed kick and I was back next to the bed. I slid my hands under her, holding her, rocking her, my tears soaking through her clothes.Now there was a delicate, cold hand on my shoulder, turning me around, and Isabelle pulled me into her. I never knew how long we stayed there, crying into each other’s hair. I felt dirty and hollow and alone. I felt as if the part of my life that had been so suddenly snuffed out had left a void in my heart that could never be filled, and that void took over.
All I could feel was indescribable sadness and rage, an endless well of pain and grief, and I knew this was no nightmare I could wake up from. As Isabelle held me and my Annika was carried away for the last time, I thought of the toy monkey lying in the entry hall that I had been so sure I could tuck under her arm as she laughed and leaned down to kiss its fur. When, that morning, I had sat at her bedside, when she had leaned over to kiss me, and her coughing fit had taken over, I never thought it would be the last time I would see her lively spirit behind her magnificent green eyes. I had never thought that the last words I would hear come out of her mouth would be a request for a pet monkey. I thought I would be there, stroking her face, holding her hand, when the life seeped out of her.
Now she was gone for good, and all I had left of her was the memory of her cold, stiff body in my arms.
