Chapter Text
The sunflowers, tall and lively, sway gently in the warm breeze. Valeria is running towards you, but she's too slow. You've seen this all before. Lived it. There's an urgent expression on her face. Even though she's too far away. You can't see her face, but you know. She runs slowly, behind her shadows hurtle after her. Harsh male voices shouting words you can't make out. You will her to move faster. Faster, Valeria! Faster. As long as she makes it inside - into your arms - she will be safe. Just ten more steps. she stretches out her arm, but your fingers never meet. A crack splits the air and Valeria's head pops like a balloon. Blood showers you and she crumples to the ground.
You jerk awake. The gunshot ringing in your ears. You breathe heavily, sweat dampening the nape of your neck. Your bedroom is empty. As it has been for the past two years. The right side of the bed cold and unoccupied. You swallow thickly and soon the faucet begins to leak. Salty droplets running down your cheeks against your will. Shakily you wipe at your eyes. The tears sting. You need to get up for work if you call in sick one more time you run the risk of being fired, but you feel like a scarecrow stuffed with bricks. It's not like it matters. It would be so easy to just lay down and close your eyes. To forget and to be forgotten.
You force yourself up anyway. Stumbling to the bathroom. Bacteria and dust and whatever nasty things that occur when you don't clean have built up around the sink. You brush your teeth and eye the mold in the reflection of the mirror. A small patch growing on the tile wall right beside the tub. The dark, blurry circles feeding on the moisture. You keep forgetting to call someone about it. Always putting the task off for later. You spit a white glob into the sink and wash off your mouth. Making short eye contact with yourself. You've been avoiding your own face. Ashamed of what you might see. Unclean skin and hair. Dark circles and cracked lips. You should shower. You told yourself you would last night. Before you can talk yourself out of it you move towards the shower. Shedding your clothes like a filthy second skin. Your wash is half-hazard, but half-hazard is better than nothing. Just the task of having to scrub yourself down is exhausting you and you haven't even done that yet.
You leave a small trial of water droplets on your way to the kitchen. A few dirty plates with food caked up on them loiter in the sink. You can smell their foul odor from the hall. You stare at the meager pickings in the cupboard. Expired and rotting food. You need to clean out the pantry. You shake your head and shut the door. You weren't that hungry anyway. You make your way outside. Pausing in the doorway. The sun shines down but the sunflowers avert their gazes. Heads lowered from weak spines. You walk past them and get in your car.
At work your coworkers shoot you a few heavy glances. Some wary, some pitiful. They try not to get too close to you, like whatever you're feeling is contagious. Time passes by in a blur. Moments occurring that you'll forget by tomorrow. You'll have to try really hard to remember which conversations actually happened and which ones you imagined while standing numbly at the counter. There are three checkout counters, but you always get the least number of customers. More often than not you're stuck organizing and cleaning the bookshelves. Not that you mind all that much. It keeps your hands and mind busy. It's the worst when you have no extra tasks to do. When you have no choice but stand at the counter. Then all you can do is think. And regret. What's the point of doing any of this? With Valeria gone it's just not-
"Excuse me?" Comes an impatient man's voice.
You snap your head up to look at the older man that is currently glaring at you.
"Are you going to ring me up or what?"
He has a stack of books. Thick boring ones that only the most pretentious of people pretend to enjoy.
"Yeah. Sorry." You mumble. Grabbing the top book and scanning it. You almost drop the second book. Uncomfortable with how intensely he's staring at you.
"You look familiar." He remarks gruffly. Narrowing his eyes, trying to match a name to your face. His scrutiny sends flares of anxiety through your gut. He nods and you instantly recognize that look disgust. "You're that drug lord's girlfriend."
You don't respond. Trying to scan the next book quickly. You keep going too fast and the stupid book won't scan.
"I'm glad that bitch is dead."
Your movements stutter, and you almost drop the book. "...Um.. your total is thirty-seven-eighty," you tell him. Silently pleading with him to drop the subject and take his books.
"You got to be sick in the head to knowingly cozy up to someone that evil," he says loudly. "You had to have known what she was." You glance around, nervous that other people may be watching or listening.
"Do you want to pay with cash or card?" You ask. Just wanting him to leave. Wanting him to stop talking about things he doesn't even have the first idea about. He slams a fistful of cash on the counter.
"Keep the change, use it to fuel your little drug habit you junkie." He turns and walks off. You resentfully grab the money and put it into the register. His assessment of you burns. You don't even do drugs.
Your shift drag itself along the road of time like a legless animal. You can't get home fast enough. You ignore the overgrown yard. Weeding and mowing the lawn is just more empty checkboxes to add to your long list of things you need to do. You unlock the door and step inside. Gasping at a Valeria coloured blur disappearing around the hall. You drop your bag and rush after her. Crashing into the wall and ignoring the dull pain in your hip. You dart into the bedroom, and it's empty. Of course. You're not sure what you thought you'd see. Valeria is gone. It doesn't hurt any less to have that hope crushed.
You see her often, in little glimpses. Shadows around the corner, in the faces of strangers. You want to try and tidy up around the home but you're just so tired. You'll do it after a short nap. You don't bother with removing your work clothes as you crawl under the blankets.
"You're being too careless with your life!" You snap at Valeria. gesticulating angrily from across the kitchen island. "What about me?"
Valeria turns to scowl at you. Not an ounce of compassion or understanding in her dark gaze. "What about you?" She replies harshly. "I'm not going to give up my goddamn empire for you, how do you think I pay for this place? For all the shit you like?"
You rub your face. Trying to calm yourself down. "I am not asking you to give it up but I'm asking you to be more careful."
Valeria laughs at you condescendingly. Giving you that look you can't stand. Like you're nothing more than a speck of dust. You're unimportant. It makes you feel small. "You don't even know what I do and you're going to stand there and preach at me to be careful? Are you serious?"
You wish she wouldn't speak to you like that.
"I know about the raid on one of your warehouses - the one you were at."
Valeria came so close to being caught. She could've been arrested. Could've been killed. Valeria suddenly hurls her shot glass at the fridge. Only a few inches from your head. You flinch, eyes widening in surprise and fear. You instinctively shrink in on yourself. Words drying up on your tongue.
"I spend all day working with idiots and being stressed out!" She shouts at you. "I just want to come home and relax, enjoy a cold glass, maybe make love to my girlfriend! But I can't, because as soon as I get home she starts nagging me."
"Maybe I wouldn't nag you if you weren't so careless." You mutter. Valeria's hand twitches. You can tell it's coming before she even speaks.
"You are such a codependent, depressive loser." She hisses. "If I don't spend every waking moment catering to your fucking feelings you freak out! You are not easy to love and it's not shocking that no one ever wants to stick around. You don't know how often I want to just leave you."
Valeria has been stressed lately. She never tells you why, but you try your best to provide comfort. A heavy silence settles between you two. Shock and hurt coursing through you. Her words hit, and they hit hard. But that's what she's good at, hitting where it hurts. Valeria offers no apology, and you don't demand one. She wants to leave you. Her words trigger those deep-rooted abandonment issues inside of you. You know you're hard to love but you thought Valeria was strong enough to do it. You walk out of the kitchen without another word. You don't join her in bed that night. Choosing to sleep on the couch. Valeria tries to talk to you in the morning. A subdued, almost guilty 'hey' leaving her lips. You purposefully turn away and Valeria gets the hint. The wounds from yesterday are still fresh and bleeding. You'll talk when she gets home. Except, she never does.
A sharp pinch pulls you from your sleep and you slap at your face. Sending a little black scorpion flying onto the floor. You sit up like lightening and watch it skitter away. Your lips throb and you touch them gingerly. Wincing at the stinging pain. It's almost completely dark in your room. Were it not for the light of the full moon creeping in through the sides of your curtains, you wouldn't be able to see at all. You sit in bed indecisively. Torn between just laying back down and ignoring it, and getting up to tend to it.
Your body makes the decision for you. Slumping back under the blankets and forcing your head down. You lay like that for hours, but you don't fall asleep. Your last memories with Valeria are still fresh in your mind. Clouding your thoughts until you can think of nothing else. You snake your hands around her unused pillow and drag it towards your chest, holding it tightly and burying your face in the pillowcase. If you try hard enough, you can pretend it still carries her smell.