Chapter 1

People leave all the time. The dread that fills me comes from all that they leave behind.

Kiara

18th April 2019, Thursday
17:00

I was an artist's work gone wrong, horribly wrong on so many levels and she wasn't even ashamed of this piece. I was a result of her and now with no more whines to fulfill, I felt naked standing here. The red striped yellow t-shirt hurt my eyes every time I glanced down at it. Why was everyone dressed in full whites? My distorted mind jumbled up various images and gave me an answer. I shook my head as the scene transitioned to fire, fire rising till the roof, fire sinking in this building, moving, lapping around, desperate for a way out. Just like I had felt. When the flames finally rested, I saw ashes.

We stood in the middle of a cremation site. It was my first time witnessing a funeral pyre. Nine years ago when Grandpa had died, I hadn't gone with my family because children didn't accompany them. It was either that reason or something else, I didn't exactly know.

I removed my specs. My vision remained blurry, yet somehow the ashes were clear. Blackened shade of yellow. She was gone, maybe even at peace. I wanted everyone to hear this, gone, at peace but first, I had to make it clear to my own mind.

"Excuse me."

The flames rose again, throwing the ashes across the hall, on my face. They stuck to my chest. A laugh rose through my throat and carried the ashes out of my body. I looked up and saw a nurse. Excuse me.

This was no funeral, yet every time I looked at a nurse or a doctor, their white clothes against my bright tees, I thought back to the cremation day; her father and brother had been standing at the head of the crowd. I hadn't bothered to move closer. The flames had been dropping cold flakes on my skin even from afar. They had set her on fire, not her body but her.

As I reached room number 4B, I looked inside. There was no one around, no family, no doctors. Shay resembled those typical patients of the movies with wires dangling from machines, skin pale with numerous injection spots, sunken eyes. Movies did show reality. I had seen her last week at the school. She looked just as pale as she did in the hospital bed, only now her forehead had no creases but last week, she had freaked me out. Later, I had found out about her from Papa.

"How's school going?" he had asked while I had been standing at the top of the staircase, unwilling to step down.

"Kiara?"

"Your coat." He had no idea how much I loathed white. It scared me like every single thing that threatened my sense of security.

He had taken off his coat, all white in its glory and given it to Mum who had bothered wrapping her fingers around my red knuckles on her way up.

"Stop hurting yourself. It won't bite you," she had said. They knew I rarely listened.

I had been angry, mad and desperate, I knew but I was not sorry. I also knew they understood but I didn't want them to understand. I wanted them to nag me, question me, force school assignments down my throat. I wanted them to do everything other than feel sorry for me. I wanted to move on but I couldn't. They set her on fire.

I lifted my gaze to Shay's quiet breathing as Papa's words rushed in, deep deep down in the pit of my mind where I could truthfully address the issue.

"How was your school?" he had asked again.

"Fine. We did Zoology today but I swear our teacher told us yesterday that we would be doing Botany. Why do we even have one single teacher for both subjects?"

"Zoology isn't bad."

It had been her favourite, Botany, not Zoology. Of course I hadn't told them that.

"How was your day?"

"About that." His voice had turned hoarse. "Are you familiar with the name Sheereen?"

"Ash's second best friend," I had mumbled, "first being me. What about her?"

"She had an accident earlier today. She was leaving town when the local bus hit a truck."

I smiled as her breathing continued.

"She's alive," Papa had answered. "Just not in the best condition."

When I had left my chair, I had been afraid of the force of my jerk, of my insanity that toppled everything. "I don't feel like eating. I think Kinematics is calling me. I'll eat somewhere around 10."

I never ate anything that night.

Papa finally allowed me to see Shay today. He was not too happy about it but an unconscious girl could not cause me much harm, at least not as much as a dead girl.

"You're breathing," I finally said as another cycle of breathing continued. I wondered if dead ash could ever rise too, Ash's ash.

I blinked away the rough tears from my eyes and stared at Shay, the beauty in an uncanny way. She was not beautiful to look at but when Ash first told me about her, I was awestruck. After that, every time Ash told me about her, I felt incomplete. They were friends. We all had been until last year. Now, we were a track and our hearts the train. It rode on our bodies and we broke so fast that even the crack in the bones went unheard.

The white atmosphere of the hospital filled my lungs with tarnished particles and I decided to leave. What was I even thinking by coming here? Shaking Shay's shoulders? Or wrapping my hands around the papery skin so that she'd choke and meet Ash? What was I thinking last year?

The cremation site stood between my house and the hospital. I stared at its entrance and the smoke that rose in a distance from the ground. Somebody died today. Another soul next to Ash's. I looked at the sky and thought about congratulating the stars but I was sure we were not righteous enough to stay among the stars. Reassured that the dead souls roamed Earth only, I continued walking. If she was here, I'd feel her. We all would. Shay was so close to see her.

I hated how concerned Papa had sounded when he had said she wasn't doing great. I hated how his tone matched the night he came back home, covered in Ash's scent. There was a difference in both of them. Shay was alive, her parents could see her and Ash was a lost souvenir, a doll who'd be long forgotten. I knew it. I knew we'd mourn and then move on.

My shoes, caked in mud and dread stopped outside my house. There was an advertisement hanging on the gates. I frowned and scratched it off the plastic sheets. It was something about a political rally dated 11.5.2019.

"Retarded politicians," I said and tore the paper away before throwing it along with the pile of newspapers lying in front of the newspaper.

Inside, Grandma sat in front of the TV with her eyes shut. I did not wait to look for Mum and climbed up the stairs. Halfway I paused and turned back to the TV. It was on but she wasn't watching. Her chest rose steadily in rhythm to the movement of rosary in her hand. I continued walking. After two steps, I paused again.

"Did you call me?" I asked. She stayed in her position just like everyday, never replying but I always felt like she'd call me.

The TV blared to her ignorant ears and the same political advertisement reappeared. 11.5.2019. I tripped on the stairs.

11.5.2019

11.5.2019

I ran to my room and threw my lunch on the floor, just a feet away from the toilet. My hands, covered in the half digested meal did not disgust me as much as the splattered drops on my shoes did. A drop of tear fell on the lens of my specs. I wanted to shrivel up and hide in a corner away from the mess and the smell. I wanted her.

11th April 2019, Thursday
23:29

My nerves were still jittery from the excitement of hours before. Another mug of coffee went into my stomach and it recoiled from its bitter taste. I was neither a coffee person nor tea, I preferred plain cold milk but of course I didn't get it. So I was surviving on coffee, holding my head with one hand as the other worked to complete the assignment. My head throbbed but I was so happy. It had been one of the best birthday parties and the birthday girl had been smiling after a long time. I grinned at the memory of her dance and picked up my phone. There were numerous pictures all over my gallery, none included her but it was a good reminder of tonight. She had wanted to talk to me, perhaps to thank me for the gift but Mum had been getting impatient and I was already late by thirty minutes. I had come back home in a hurry.

'Happy Birthday' I sent her another wish with a number of emojis. She loved them.

Five minutes later, I got no answer. The watch read 11:35pm. As I took another swig of the coffee, I grimaced. It was time for a break. I stretched a little and decided to take a stroll.

My parents' room was open. Downstairs, Mum sat on the sofa.

"Mum," I called out.

She glanced up at me. Her eyes looked hollow in the dimly lit room. "Kiara," she whispered.

I frowned. "Are you okay?"

She nodded. "Did you need something? You could've called me."

What? My frown deepened. She never said that, knowing I preferred self service. Before I could utter another word, my penguin mug was snatched from me.

"Why do you call me 'Mum'?" she asked in a low voice. "You used to call me 'Mumma'."

I used to. I didn't remember how it had changed but I had started calling her Mum some time ago. I blamed it on a certain Brit who had wavy hair. Another jolt of excitement shivered up my toes when his smiling face lit in my memory.

Mum placed the mug in front of me, returning from the kitchen. I peeked into it. Milk. My fingers touched its surface. Cold Milk. I grinned at her.

"You know I love you, right?" she said.

My smile slipped.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. A sob followed. I heard nothing else except her words that explained the silence from Ash's side. The sound of my favourite mug breaking echoed through the house followed by a crackle rising from my throat.

I heard Mum call my name as I shook my head. No no no no no. She couldn't be dead, not without telling me. She told me everything. I puked out my negativity on the broken pieces of my mug, her birthday cake falling down on the kitchen floor. I couldn't breathe. My body recoiled as it got into a fit of coughs. My gaze stayed at the door and waited for Papa walk in and say she was fine.

Please be fine.

When I thought my stomach had emptied it all, my gut twisted and the muscle contraction tried to choke me on my food.