You had just arrived after a tiring day of work and you wanted nothing more than to just find something soft and sleep on it. Huh, now that you thought about it, the floor looked pretty comfy . . .
You shook your head. No, you had to at least tell your mom that you were home; it would probably worry her that you had come home so late and not stop by and say hello. You shuffled out of your black high heels and sluggishly walked over to her bedroom. You lived in a two-room apartment, and you have been for as long as you could remember. The beige walls and pristine kitchen always seemed to be a comfort to you, even if many others didn't agree with you. Your mother's room was right across from yours, so all you did was push the door open gently and peeked inside.
"Mom, I'm home," You called out to your mother gently. This was what you always did before you would come in; you did.
Your ____ eyes widened as you noticed that there wasn't a thing in the room. Your heart beat picked up as you raced inside the room and saw nothing but complete whiteness staring back at you. When you went to look into the closet that was to the left of you, all there was in there was complete darkness. You felt clammy.
You looked around yourself desperately, and it seemed that the walls seemed to press on you, forcing you to feel claustrophobia like you've never encountered. You rushed out of the room and turned your head towards the front door. The figure didn't seem to be anyone you knew, but as your eyes adjusted to the light and silhouette at the door, you noticed that it was your boyfriend and neighbor, Arthur Kirkland, coming in with a satisfied look on his face.
Arthur seemed to take a look at your and his oversized eyebrows furrowed in confusion. To him, you look like a wild animal, afraid of an oncoming car about to hit you. He crossed over and bent to face you, his green eyes level with yours.
"____, what in heaven's name is wrong with you? You look like you've seen a ghost," His low voice lulled to you. His lips were pursed, trying to figure out why his friend looked this way.
"Arthur, there were some things in the room across from mine, and now they've all disappeared! I don't know what to do!" You put your hands to your cheeks and casted your eyes down. A line creased your forehead. You had worded your sentence carefully so that he wouldn't look at you odd.
He blinked rapidly as if he understood what you were talking about. "Oh, those things? I thought I'd stop by and help get rid of those things. You know, they cluttered an extra room and whatnot." He gave you a smile and stood upright, going into the kitchen to scavenger ingredients to make tea.
Your blood ran cold. Arthur . . . got rid of the things? Those things that were so near and dear to your heart? How could he! Why would he go into your mother's room and throw out her things? What in God's name was wrong with him?
You were trembling so violently that you had to crouch down and hold your head between your knees. How where you going to get her stuff back? Mom . . . that was all you had. Without that, she couldn't be so close to your heart anymore.
" . . . ____? ____, please talk to me. What's the matter? What was in there? Was it something important?" You could feel Arthur's grip on your shoulders as you kept on shaking.
"M-my Mom was in there! How could you throw her out? Arthur, she was in there!" You were yelling out loud now. To any other person, you may have looked like you were acting irrationally, but it didn't matter to you.
"Your mum? But all that was in there were a few clothes, perfumes and a picture," He rattled off quickly, trying to understand what exactly he threw out. It still wasn't clicking to him.
"That picture . . . those perfumes . . . that was all I had left of her after she died. If I don't have that, my memories of her will vanish forever." A silent tear streaked down your face as your voice strained on the last word.
Arthur became incredibly quiet when he heard those words leave your lips. Never had you told him that your mother was dead; you had simply told him that she was out traveling, probably in Europe somewhere being the unruly spirit that she was. You told Arthur that she would eventually come back; that was why you had all her things there, ready when she showed up at the apartment door.
The Brit's arms curled around your frail, curled body as he buried his head into your shoulder. He didn't know what to do. He even knew better than to believe such an outlandish lie, but he believed it nonetheless.
"My Mom . . . her picture . . . I can't tell her 'Goodbye' in the mornings, or 'I'm Home' in the evenings like I'd always do," You whispered to him, curling your arms around his neck.
"I think that stopped the moment she passed," He murmured into your shoulder.
You kept your lips shut; afraid of what you would say would sound childish.
"You know, I think this is a sign, ____." Arthur pulled back from you with a sincere look in his eyes.
"A sign?" You couldn't help but question his logic.
"Yes, I think so. I bet since your mother was such a wild soul, that she wouldn't want you to grieve for her, or wait for her for an eternity. I think when your time comes, she'll be waiting for you instead." He put his hands on either side of your face and pulled it close to his. You shut your eyes against the warmness his body was emanating.
Somehow, it felt as if a very heavy weight was slowly being lifted off your shoulders. Not completely, goodness no! It would still take time for the rest of it to be lifted off, but for right now, it felt good to breathe. Those were the words you wanted to hear. The words that set your free from your everlasting chain.
And when his lips slowly touched yours, it was just . . .